Red Blue Green

Clooney, Obama, and political disappointment

2011-12-18T22:11:00.001-08:00

Recently on Facebook I reposted this (click to enlarge it):

My friend Rob responded by posting the video that follows. His opinion: "None of that outweighs this."

Which started a lengthy discussion. My opening salvo:

I think the thing for me is that I'm not activist-y enough. I was friends with someone for a while who believed in the radical transformation of society, government, etc. because things were/are too broken to salvage, so we need a whole new plan. She also believed that the breakdown of capitalism and social chaos were nigh. Capitalism has looked especially awful in the last few years, but I wonder if it's really going to fall apart in the U.S. and yield to some new age of more enlightened social and economic structure. Inertia is a bitch.

All of which is to say, every president does terrible things. The comedian Bill Hicks once said that when someone is elected president, these shadowy figures take him (or eventually her) into a dark room and show him/her a version of JFK's assassination that no one's ever seen before -- the implication being that it was an inside job. The point being: Stray too far from a certain prescribed path, and you're toast.

I take this to mean that there's a limit to how much good a president can accomplish. Obama has made many compromises, as he kind of indicated he would by positioning himself as a moderate/centrist who would try to change the highly polarized nature of politics in D.C. Well, the GOP has never been more knee-jerk in its opposition to a Democratic president, as far as I know.

I'm not assigning all the blame for Obama's missteps to Republicans. I'm just saying that every president makes major "mistakes" that can either be seen as lapses in judgment or conscious betrayals of previously stated ideals. Maybe my attitude, that expecting a lot of consistent action powered by solid integrity, is expecting too much from a president reflects jadedness or laziness on my part. But maybe the position of president has enough inherent limits that there will always be great disappointments. (Clinton signed the DOMA, right? And he's supposedly one of the best presidents in recent memory.)

I think it's good to know what Obama's doing that we liberals consider bad. Clooney, however, seems to be saying that he's also accomplished good things, and if we think he'd be better than Romney for the next four years, we'd better emphasize those. Throwing out the baby with the bathwater might not be the best approach to presidential politics, you know? They're all gonna disappoint. But they're not all George W. Bush. The lesser-of-two-evils concept doesn't preclude actually going ahead, holding one's nose, and CHOOSING the lesser of two evils.

Rob came back with:

If what Senator Carl Levin says is true, Obama didn't compromise by moving to the right more than he wanted to, HE pressured congress to move to the right. Language excluding American citizens from indefinite detention was in the version of the bill that left committee, until Obama insisted that it be re-inserted.

Me:

Rob, do you think the next step is writing letters to Obama, or voting for a third-party candidate in 2012? Or some other action? The commentator says that if Bush had put forward a similar bill, "the left would have been in a rage." But what would that rage have resulted in? Our "rage" over Bush got Obama elected. Now it's fueling Occupy. I guess I hear guys like this get worked up and wonder what we should or can actually do. He's so angry. I dunno. I don't feel as much as he does. Al Franken voted for this bill, too, huh? Is everyone awful?

Rob:

When conservatives during Clinton were frustrated that the Republican party didn't reflect their values, they didn't write letters to the Dole campaign, nor did they vote for Pat Buchanan. Instead, they got involved with the Republican party at the local level, got their values into the party platform, got their candidates on the ballots, and eventually took over the party and the country. They got G.W. Bush into office and turned the Democratic party so far to the right, they are nearly indistinguishable. (Compared to ending due process for all Americans, ending DADT is "throwing us a bone".)

We need to do the same.

My local Democratic party (36th Legislative District) holds its next meeting on January 18th at 7 pm. The meeting is open to the public. It's too late to do anything for this election cycle, but I intend to have a true progressive as the Democratic nominee in 2016.

And so on. I know reposting Facebook writing constitutes lazy blogging, but sometimes the informality of Facebook is more conducive to this type of "thinking out loud" writing. In other words, I wouldn't have written a blog post to this effect on my own, but the Clooney quote and Rob's reply inspired me to produce a lot of words, quite unexpectedly. In that way, Facebook beats blogging. I think one of the reasons I blog less these days is that I never developed a big enough readership to produce a regular flow of comments. And without dialogue, blogging can start to feel like talking to yourself in a deserted building. Whereas Facebook is like a crowded subway car. My last comment in this thread:

Some people think big picture, long term. I guess I don't have grand visions for a nearish future that's radically different from the present. There are exceptions, but social and political shifts tend to be gradual. Obama's election shifted things a bit in terms of our country's respectability in the eyes of the world. Healthcare reform, as meager as it turned out to be compared to what it could have been, put America's deeply troubled healthcare system in the spotlight, and Occupy is ensuring that it remains part of the national conversation.

Repealing DADT may be "throwing us a bone" in a sense, but I think a lot of gays and lesbians who are or have been in the military appreciate that it's more than a symbolic gesture -- it's a change in how the military does business. My upbringing led me to believe that not every positive change has to be really big to matter.

I think about this when I think of how movies, TV, etc. depict LGBT people. "Philadelphia," the '90s movie with Tom Hanks as a gay lawyer with AIDS, gets flak today for how chastely it depicted Hanks' relationship with Antonio Banderas, and for invoking the Gay Protagonist As Tragic AIDS Victim, a tired trope. But a movie that showed a same-sex relationship as healthy, happy, and strong, with major movie stars (Denzel Washington was also in it), from a big-name director (Jonathan Demme, who had won as Oscar for "Silence of the Lambs") and with significant studio money behind it? Holy cow, back then that was significant.

Similarly, "Transamerica" wasn't the radically transformative film that every trans activist was dreaming of, but it wouldn't have been made (with Felicity Huffman, anyway) in the early to mid-'90s. Progress happens gradually. By the time a "Brokeback Mountain" is released, the social, cultural, and political forces for good have advanced considerably on the ground.

I get that Obama's being the first African-American president is cold comfort when (some of) his policies seem terrible. But I still remember looking at the paper the morning after Election Night in 2008, seeing the Obamas on the front page, and thinking: "Wow. It wasn't just a dream. This really happened!" Eventually, hopefully, electing a president who isn't male, white, straight, wealthy, and/or Christian won't be such a big deal. But I think that future is a ways off.

Lana Del Rey has something important to tell you

2011-12-13T21:36:00.000-08:00

I first heard this on NPR's All Songs Considered. Now it's come back to really haunt me.

An education

2011-12-08T13:13:00.000-08:00

Fall quarter officially ends tomorrow, but I've finished all the papers and tests. Now I have time to watch Hulu and reflect on the last few months. I moved to Spokane on Sept. 1, and I've settled in well, all things considered. Sure, the construction next door has literally shaken my apartment building, but all in all this is the quietest place I've ever lived. That's a true blessing for someone who greatly values quiet, as I do.

I've gotten to know Spokane a bit since moving here, and I've found that the horror stories you hear from Seattleites who have never been here aren't accurate. In fact, they're about as true as the outdated, stereotypical impressions of Seattle that you sometimes hear from Midwesterners or East Coast residents. Seattle isn't a forest of grunge and plaid, and Spokane isn't a smoking hole in the ground that smells like meth. Crime isn't rampant here. I feel as safe in Browne's Addition as I did in Ravenna, and the neighborhood is probably safer than Seattle's Capitol Hill. I live across the street from a gastropub and a Tully's, and a few blocks from a lovely park, a grocery, and a yoga studio. This place is just as comfortable for me as Seattle was, and the people here are friendlier.

Wherever I move after this, I want it to be a place where strangers acknowledge each other. Seattle is full of smart, literate people, but it's not friendly enough for me. Too many iPads and iPhones, too much personal space. Spokane's combination of urban pleasures (art cinema, farmers market, co-op grocery, gorgeously landscaped parks) and small-town charm is pretty winning. Bellingham would have been great, but Spokane has everything I need at a lower cost of living.

Grad school is a little different from how I pictured it, because I was picturing a highly academic program, like film studies or Spanish literature. EWU's applied psych program is just that: It emphasizes the application of skills, not tremendous intellectual rigor. Self-reflection matters as much as, if not more than, research papers, although next year there's a hefty one to write. The program's goal is to make us examine ourselves while learning the techniques and attitudes we need to help others. It's a program that gives back what you put into it.

This seems like an apt introduction to the counseling profession, since being active in the field -- going to conferences, networking, finding ways to learn on an ongoing basis -- is clearly the key to a successful, fulfilling career. I like structure, especially the kind that's imposed from outside. I'll need to get better at structuring my daily life, not just my academic work, in order to realize my goal of having a private practice. I'll also need to keep improving my financial skills. I currently create a budget for each month, and I tend to follow those plans pretty well. But responsible planning and investment go beyond that basic step, and I know it.

The support I receive is humbling. Many of my classmates have to work much harder, and manage much more, than I do. They have spouses or families, and some work multiple jobs. I'm learning to respect people whose political and spiritual views are different from mine. If I'd attended Western, I would likely have been among a more liberal, less devoutly Christian crowd. That would have been a comfort zone, which I'm not sure is what best serves a master's-level counseling student. Spokane is more working class, religious, and Republican than anywhere I've lived. Better to experience this part of American reality than to remain in a liberal bubble. I can always visit Seattle, and I can move to a big city after graduation. For now, being in a place where the political spectrum is wider, and the things I'm used to taking for granted aren't necessarily true, may be just the education I need.

You know what's good?

2011-12-07T22:13:00.000-08:00

Hot cocoa with a peppermint teabag in it. I thought I invented it, but then I realized there's a Facebook page devoted to it. Oh well. Back to the test-kitchen drawing board...

Look, ma, I'm on the teevee!

2011-12-07T22:10:00.001-08:00

The new "Hunger Games" trailer is terrific

2011-11-18T15:13:00.000-08:00

See for yourself:

Exercise isn't always the enemy

2011-11-18T14:49:00.000-08:00

I went to Spokane's YMCA last weekend and watched part of The Matrix Reloaded while doing about 35 minutes on the elliptical machine. It wasn't too bad. I didn't do the machine's cardio-oriented workout, because it wants my heart rate within a certain range, which can lead to my overworking myself. My pace was steady and not too fast, but not excessively slow, either. A nice balance. I think this sense of balance is working its way into my general understanding of movement, which is what I'm calling exercise now, since the E word and I don't always get along.

I took a nice short hike today with a friend from the counseling program; it was uphill part of the way, and a moderate workout but not exhausting. (The photo above is one of the lovely views we enjoyed. We also enjoyed the antics of a playful dog, homemade cookies, and tea, thanks to my hiking companion.) This, I think, is how I need to do it: enough movement to feel it, not enough to make me want to run screaming. Someone in one of my classes has a coffee cup that says: "Pain is just weakness leaving the body." That seems a little too Western (and Protestant work ethic-y) to me. I like yoga's principle of ahimsa, which suggests that you can make gains without enduring undue pain. That fits me better.

I dressed as a crossword puzzle for Halloween

2011-10-30T00:28:00.000-07:00

When I got to the party, literally there was silence. The music stopped, all conversation halted, and everyone looked at me. It was like something out of an '80s teen movie. On the other hand, there were cute dogs and chocolate-chip pumpkin cake and fancy coffee drinks. And nice people dressed as animals. So, good times.

Mac 'n' NYF

2011-10-22T17:22:00.000-07:00

Macaroni and nutritional yeast flakes (aka NYF) was a rib-sticking standby at Fairchild Co-op, my college dining hall/social hub/home away from home. So I was pleased to prepare a fine version in my own kitchen, with help from The New Farm Vegetarian Cookbook. The recipe, which came to me via the excellent blog C'est La Vegan, is below. The photo above is of my finished product, which was delicious, if maybe a touch too salty. (I think soy sauce or Bragg's is enough; no need for the added salt. Oh, and substitute a clove of fresh minced garlic for the garlic powder. And, if you're feeling subversive, butter for the margarine. Shhh -- it'll be our secret.)

New Farm Vegetarian Mac n’ Cheese
3 1/2 cups elbow macaroni (or your favorite type of pasta)
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons vegan margarine
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour (you might need to use up to a 1/2 Cup if your roux is too thin)
3 1/2 cups boiling water
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons garlic powder
pinch of turmeric
2-4 tablespoons canola oil (depends how tight you want your pants to get!)
1 cup nutritional yeast flakes
Paprika to taste for topping
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Cook pasta according to package directions. In a saucepan, melt margarine over low heat. Beat the flour in with a whisk, and continue to beat over a medium flame until the mixture (roux) is smooth and bubbly. You may need to turn the heat up slightly.
Whip in the boiling water, salt, soy sauce, garlic powder and turmeric, beating well to dissolve the roux. The sauce should cook until it thickens and bubbles. Whip in the oil and nutritional yeast flakes.
Mix part of the sauce with the cooked noodles and pour into a 9 x 13 casserole dish. Pour a generous amount of sauce on top and smooth out. Sprinkle with paprika to taste and bake for 15 minutes. And the end of the baking time, heat the broiler and broil until the “cheese” sauce starts to bubble.

Fall comes to Browne's Addition

2011-10-22T17:18:00.001-07:00

Well, hell. If I'm not going to write, maybe this can at least be a photo blog. Fall has arrived in my neighborhood, and it's a beautiful thing.

Blast from the past, part 2

2011-09-20T01:16:00.000-07:00

Here's another post from the old MySpace blog. I wrote this one after returning to Seattle from New York in the fall of 2006:

So I saw the Pulitzer-winner [Doubt] at the Rep tonight, finally, after missing it on Broadway. Wow. Ran into an ex-Weeklyite (aren't they all, now?) who said this production's Sister Aloysius (the show's villain or heroine, depending on your point of view) was better than Broadway's. Broadway's was Eileen Atkins, but still, I kind of believe it, because this one ruled. Just when you wanted to close the book on her and hate her... you couldn't, because she did something funny and likable, so you were stuck kind of liking her again, despite yourself. The Stranger (consumed by the Segal resignation scandal!) said the production didn't make the priest's guilt uncertain enough, and I agree, but it was still a hell of a good show. It's nice to feel some sense of personal connection to the show; its message that doubt is a vital part of living but still hurts like hell seems very apt these days, as I begin to feel less resistance to ideas I might have laughed off years ago, or even one year ago.

As with music, some ideas get turned away when they come before their time. In college I took a road trip, fall of junior year, and my trip-mate played some Tom Waits. I didn't understand why anyone would want to listen to such a scratched-up old voice for even a minute. Then, later in the year, I asked for Waits' Mule Variations as a Christmas present, according to the principle that you ask for what you wouldn't buy yourself, because it's too "risky" to try something new on your own dime. Soon after, I was playing it in my room when my roommate came in and essentially said: Who would want to listen to a scratched-up old voice like that for even a minute? And you know what? I did.

You don't get it till you get it. And reading Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television is making me think I'm getting something I didn't get before. Then again, as Doubt also communicates, nothing is gained by dogmatism. So I'd better tread carefully and think through what's occurred to me (probably a better idea than jumping headfirst into a socialist guerrilla organization or whatever). Basically one big problem is how to sit someone down and tell him or her that your fears and uneasiness are irrational, you know they are, but you're uncertain of how to best fight that irrationality. Shanley's program notes for Doubt are exquisite -- I enjoyed them about as much as the play. Here's an excerpt:

It is Doubt (so often experienced initially as weakness) that changes things. When a man feels unsteady, when he falters, when hard-won knowledge evaporates before his eyes, he's on the verge of growth. The subtle or violent reconciliation of the outer person and inner core often seems at first like a mistake, like you've gone the wrong way and you're lost. But this is just emotion longing for the familiar. Life happens when the tectonic power of your speechless soul breaks through the dead habits of the mind. Doubt is nothing less than an opportunity to reenter the Present.

Blast from the past

2011-09-20T00:23:00.000-07:00

I recently unearthed a post from 2006, when I had a MySpace blog. A few years ago, I foolishly erased that blog when I deleted my MySpace account, so I was pleased to find this time-capsule slice of New York life:

What have I been doing?

Yesterday I revisited my Manhattan-shrink-in-a-highrise (yes, Virginia, New York IS just like a Woody Allen movie) for the second of three "consultation" sessions wherein she decides how to place me. I wish she could just place me with her, but I suspect I can't afford her -- she's a real, live psychiatrist -- and anyway, she's suggesting analysis, not meds. Apparently the mysterious power of the analysis couch isn't that it makes you more comfortable, and thus more likely to spill your long-hidden secrets -- instead, it simply keeps you from looking at your analyst, which apparently helps you Journey Within and pluck out the really juicy Freudian fuck-ups that led you to the sorry place you are today. So that's good to know. I'm learning so much here!

Post-shrink I had a nice big salad at a kosher pizzeria with my nearly-always-visiting friend Bob; then we went to some kind of university art space to look at a design exhibit. It was on the streamlining trend that began in the '30s and clearly consumed almost everything it touched (until you've seen a streamlined iron, you haven't really lived). I astutely observed that the teardrop shape that seemed to characterize a great many of the pieces in the exhibit is also the way airplane wings look from the side, when you do a cross-section diagram thingy.

Bob and I talked about the poignant nature of retro-futuristic design, which expressed such optimism about the 21st century but whose moment, aesthetically, sort of never arrived after all (hel-LO, Space Needle!). Although a remarkable number of streamlined items -- lounge chairs, room lamps, counter/bar islands in a kitchen -- actually continue to exist in contemporary homes. So maybe the moral of the story is that the idealism of the streamlining age, like all idealism, failed to make it to the present day unscathed, but that doesn't mean it didn't exert a profound effect on the design world.

Also last night I stood outside the famous Ziegfeld Theater in the cold and wet to harass people coming out of the world premiere of "United 93," the Paul Greengrass film that recreates, in real time, the doomed 9/11 flight that crashed in a PA field after its passengers staged a revolt against the hijackers. My first NY freelance piece, about whether New Yorkers are ready for the movie (which opens wide on Friday), required me to join the radio, TV, and press people in the gated-off media pit across the street from the theater, from which frazzled-looking moviegoers -- including quite a few family members of 9/11 victims -- emerged following the 7:30 p.m. screening. An AP guy who admitted he'd rather be at home in bed -- yeah, join the club, fella -- shouted at random emerging audience members: "What'd ya think of the movie?" I met a nice lady from BBC Radio who played me back a bit of her interview with Greengrass. I think when you're interviewing the director, your need to do man-on-the-street reporting is greatly reduced. (Accordingly, she left pretty soon after the theater exodus began.)

I'd never been in a media pit before, and lordy, is it like the ones you see in the movies. Inevitably some Armani-wearing dude is fame-hungry and steps right up into the hot glare of the TV lights (yes, the lights the TV people used actually emitted heat and glared -- this is not a figure of speech) and talks and talks and talks. There were three big talkers. While one held court, I stuck my recorder-holding hand through the cloud of correspondents and paparazzi and asked my key question ("Do you think New Yorkers are ready for this movie?"). All the other media people listened for the answer, too. It was weird and magical -- and slightly parasitic, but oh well. 'Tis the nature of the media beast, I guess. My story, all 600 words of it, runs this Friday in Downtown Express.

The bluest skies

2011-08-27T01:16:00.000-07:00

Top 5 things I'm going to miss about Seattle:

The Ravenna Kibbutz: I've been going to potlucks at the Kibbutz for more than three years, and it's been a time of great personal growth. I've met more wonderful people there, and eaten more amazing food, than I could ever have expected. Plus, for the first time since college, I found a community I loved, where I felt like I belonged. That's a big deal.
My friends: From Reed and Judith, whom I met soon after moving to Seattle in January of 2002, to Ria, whom I just met recently, I've made lovely and lasting friendships here. Seattle is known for being hard to break into socially, but serendipity introduced me to people like Angela, still one of my best friends, and Patty, whom I met in 2005 at a coffee shop, re-met last year on Facebook, and keep close to my heart even though she lives far away.
Saaz: My feline housemate, pictured above, has convinced me that I'm as much a cat person as a dog person, and that at some point, maybe even in Spokane, I should adopt a cat of my own.
Smartness: People here are smart. Some are tech-savvy, some are socially adept (yes, even in Asperger's-prone Seattle), and some spent a lot of time on their Ph.D.s, work at Microsoft Research, and have intellects the size of newly discovered diamond planets. When a friend moved from Seattle to L.A. years ago, she called me and said: "Neal, where are all the smart people?" Say what you will about Seattle -- we have smarties in spades.
The weather: Not the gray skies and spitting rain, but the moderate temperatures. Not too hot in the summer, almost never muggy, not too cold in the winter. Few places in America can boast such meteorological restraint. And yes, we don't get the dramatic thunderstorms of the Midwest and East Coast, but the abiding mellowness almost makes up for that. Spokane reminds me of my native Michigan, with its freezing winters and hot summers. That's good practice for a future outside the Pacific Northwest, but there's no question that as soon as I'm outside Seattle's marine climate, I'll miss the heck out of it.

My top films of 2010

2010-12-22T16:46:00.000-08:00

Note: For a while now, I've started each year with a list of my top 10 films of the previous year. I've been an errant blogger, so this list includes only eight movies, and I haven't added honorable mentions, as I usually do. That said, I spent some time on this, and late is better than never. Plus, these films deserve the praise, however belated. Enjoy!

1. Greenberg

Last year, the movie that made me happiest wasn't the gritty war saga that ended up winning Best Picture. (That film, The Hurt Locker, was second on my list.) Similarly, the likely winner of this year's top Oscar, The Social Network, didn't warm my heart as much as a much smaller-scale indie dramedy about relationships, romantic and otherwise. In 2009, I fell hard for Humpday; in 2010, Greenberg won my heart with terrific casting, a very smart script, and plum roles for both Ben Stiller and mumblecore heartthrob Greta Gerwig, one of my favorite young actresses. (Writer-director Noah Baumbach gets bonus points for casting Rhys Ifans, somewhat against type, as Stiller's patient, thoughtful -- and seemingly only -- friend.)

In 1998's Permanent Midnight, Stiller proved that he could carry an edgy, darkly comic indie film on his shoulders. That year, he also did some impressive, outside-the-box work opposite Bill Pullman in Jake Kasdan's equally underrated Zero Effect. After that banner year, however, Stiller spent most of his time in middling comedies of the Meet the Parents variety. Sure, there was Zoolander, but he had to create that deliciously off-the-wall comic role for himself. I've waited more than a decade for the Ben Stiller I knew and loved in the late '90s to return; in Greenberg, he was in stronger form than even I expected.

Some of my friends avoided the movie because they didn't want to spend any of their valuable time trapped in a dark room with such a misanthropic figure. To me, on the other hand, Roger Greenberg is both touching and inspiring. Baumbach, whose The Squid and the Whale was my favorite film of 2005, hints throughout Greenberg that its title character is not beyond repair. "Hurt people hurt people" is the movie's unofficial mantra, and Greenberg's ability to hurt others never quite overshadows his own suffering, for which he's constantly, desperately seeking relief. It's such a deeply human state to be in.

While some viewers felt that Gerwig's character, the confused but kind-hearted Florence Marr, deserved better than Greenberg, the movie's exceedingly graceful ending offers hope that the grouchy protagonist can change, and even that he wants to change, in order to be worthy of Florence's love. Baumbach specializes in thorny, complicated relationships, yet he doesn't craft them coldly, as some kind of creative exercise. By the end of Greenberg, I so wanted Stiller's character to release the smitten, honest, caring person trapped inside him that my heart ached.

2. The Social Network

Although it boasted one of the year's finest trailers, I was almost afraid to hope that David Fincher's collaboration with West Wing creator Aaron Sorkin would be as good as I wanted it to be. What a wonderful surprise, then, to discover an expertly edited, cracklingly written, superbly acted psychodrama about the origin of something that has come to permeate our lives: Facebook. I've enjoyed Jesse Eisenberg's work ever since his terrific performance in 2002's unfairly forgotten Roger Dodger, and while he's certainly had high points in the last eight years (The Squid and the Whale, mentioned above, gave him his first chance to play a conceited, unlikable young man), Mark Zuckerberg is clearly the role he had been building toward.

Much was made of the differences between the real-life Facebook founder and the cinematic version, and many a critic has discussed Sorkin's Luddite tendencies. To me, though, all that matters is that Network delivers an engaging story, and that it's distinguished by some of the year's nimblest acting. In a perfect world, both Justin Timberlake and Andrew Garfield would score Oscar nominations for their work as, respectively, Napster founder Sean Parker and Zuckerberg crony-turned-nemesis Eduardo Saverin. I occasionally found the much-buzzed-about score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross a bit distracting, but its quiet menace did fit the film's tone and themes. I think this is the film to beat for the Best Picture statuette; I can't think of another movie that got (and kept) people talking this year like The Social Network.

3. Winter's Bone

Writer-director Debra Granik's stunning second feature has integrity in a way that few contemporary films do. Like its characters, all fighting poverty and somehow connected to the meth trade, it doesn't waste words. Granik reveals the Ozarks' anachronistic culture bit by bit, sometimes focusing on vivid details, sometimes giving us a battered landscape to inspect on our own. There are various kinds of strength on display in this film; some types can coexist peaceably, while others inevitably result in bloodshed.

As Ree Dolly, an unusually resourceful 17-year-old, Jennifer Lawrence gives a revelatory performance. Granik gets clean, raw acting out of her leads; Vera Farmiga, in Down to the Bone, slipped with similar grace and conviction into her character. What makes both films outstanding is not only their unflinching realism but also their unexpected watchability. A wrenching account of an addict struggling to stay sober -- sounds like a slow trudge through highly unpleasant terrain. So does Winter's Bone, when you first hear the premise: world-weary teenager goes on a quest to find her meth-cooking father, who put the family home up as bail, then skipped town. If she doesn't find him, or evidence that he's dead, the Dollys, including Ree's two younger siblings, will "have to live in the field like dogs," as Ree puts it.

What ensues is a journey at once soulful and entirely unsentimental. When Ree's uncle, Teardrop (Deadwood's John Hawkes, who also deserves an Oscar nod), decides to help her, we get the most unshowy kind of buddy movie imaginable. Both characters are tight-lipped and think they know how to fend for themselves; both find a few surprises as they draw nearer to Ree's father, Jessup, or at least what's left of him. What a contrast between this screenplay and The Social Network's! While the latter sparkles with wit and verbal flourish, Winter's Bone has a spare beauty that will haunt you for days after you see it.

4. Breaking Upwards

Low-budget indie romantic comedies set in New York City -- aren't there, like, 10 million of those by now? Quite possibly. So what a wonder it is that Breaking Upwards, by young writer-director-actor Daryl Wein, manages to make its characters and story compelling. In collaboration with Zoe Lister-Jones, who cowrote and stars opposite him, Wein has fictionalized, achingly and sweetly, his actual relationship with Lister-Jones. This conceit reminds me of another fine recent indie, Tiny Furniture, in which writer-director-star Lena Dunham cast her mother as her character's mother and, yes, her sister as her character's sister. There's thinly veiled autobiography, and then there are films like these, in which the veil may or may not exist at any given moment.

In any case, Upwards is deeply enjoyable even if you know nothing of its backstory, and that's certainly a testament to its narrative and emotional strength. It starts much the way a lesser 2010 indie, The Freebie, started: Two attractive young people are in a long-standing relationship, and though they love each other very much, they're a little bored. Or maybe a lot bored. So they concoct a plan to add spark to their bond without severing it -- because, of course, that would be unthinkable.

How much freedom can couples give themselves? How much can they stray without wrecking their relationship? Both movies ask these questions, but Wein's interrogates monogamy much more satisfyingly. Even when his characters visit a party populated almost entirely by polyamorists, the film is intellectually curious, not dismissive and mocking. It's easy to ridicule non-monogamy, Wein seems to be saying, but you know what they say about glass houses.

Wein and Lister-Jones are extremely appealing, and their characters are both lovable and obviously flawed. They're fun to watch together, but they're also interesting to observe apart, which is sometimes what separates a very good romantic comedy from a sea of decent ones. What also makes Upwards a joy is the casting of the secondary roles. Andrea Martin is absolutely marvelous as Zoe's open-minded mother, and Julie White and Peter Friedman are equally good as Daryl's parents.

Both Zoe and Daryl spend a lot of time with their parents -- an almost disturbing amount, unless it's a New York Jewish thing -- which lets us decide how many of their neuroses are their own, and how many could be inherited. All that parent-child bonding also opens up these characters, lets them exist outside the central relationship, and gives us an all-access pass into their emotional lives. The film's last scene channels the heartbreak and joy of romantic partnership: the anxiety, the complexity, and the vital friendship that somehow remains beneath it all. Movies can tell us 'tis better to have loved and lost, but this one has the courage, and the skill, to show us.

5. The Kids Are All Right

Lisa Cholodenko's 1998 debut feature, High Art, left me cold. Her 2002 follow-up, Laurel Canyon, looked a bit livelier, but I never got around to seeing it. I knew Cholodenko was talented, but something just wasn't clicking for me. Then The Kids Are All Right came along, and the coolness of High Art became a distant memory. The story of a lesbian couple, their two teenage kids, and the kids' biological father, All Right achieves a tremendous balancing act in terms of tone. Although it's no screwball comedy, light comic notes permeate the film. Yet when it comes time for Julianne Moore's climactic speech, its emotional weight doesn't feel incongruous.

This is, in short, a film that never quite manages to decide whether it's a comedy or a drama, and not only doesn't it seem to care, neither do we. Cholodenko's open-hearted exploration of her characters' flaws and redemptive virtues is what holds your attention and affection. As warm and inviting as High Art was chilly and distant, the movie makes an understated but undeniable case for embracing family in all its forms. We now live in a post-"Don't Ask, Don't Tell" era, and The Kids Are All Right is precisely the kind of smart, humanistic entertainment our time deserves.

6. Toy Story 3

If you think the term "threequel" is annoying, you should try watching the third movie in a franchise sometime. (The Godfather: Part III and Alien 3 are two of the most notorious examples.) Those of us who were teens in 1995, when the original Toy Story was released, were afraid to hope that the final piece of the trilogy would rival, or even approach, the first two films' wit, expert pacing, and tender (but never maudlin) tone. But really, who were we to doubt Pixar? The Disney-owned animation powerhouse seems capable of almost anything at this point; the studio's diehard fans would probably line up to watch Up: Part 12. For the past few years, I've essentially had a Pixar slot in my top 10 list. Ratatouille, WALL-E, and Up are all among my favorite films of their respective years. As it turns out, 2010 is no different.

Toy Story 3 is about growing up, and knowing what to hold onto and what to let go. The longtime owner of the movies' toys, Andy, is ready for college, and it's unclear what role his childhood playthings will have in his life. Everyone who clung to his beloved stuffed animals past the "normal" point of giving them away will recognize this situation. Woody, the cowboy voiced by Tom Hanks, stands the best chance of joining Andy at college: the token toy to bring along, the talisman, a piece of childhood Andy won't be too embarrassed to have lying around. All the others, including heroic astronaut Buzz Lightyear (voiced by Tim Allen), appear destined for a place in the attic. Not ideal, but not the trash heap, either. By a twist of fate, however, the entire gang ends up at a daycare center that seems benign at first -- don't they always? -- but turns out to be a dictatorship run by a big, pink bear named Lotso (as in Lots-O'-Huggin'), voiced with great chumminess, and then even greater menace, by Ned Beatty.

Not unlike 2000's delightful Chicken Run, TS3 gleefully borrows tropes from classic prison-break movies, but it's never too derivative to feel fresh, or too clever by half (I'm looking at you, Shrek). Cleverness, after all, is no substitute for intelligence, great storytelling, and heart, and this movie has all three in spades. When the band of toys faces annihilation in a bravura scene set in a trash incinerator, the moment has all the emotional charge of a live-action film, and why shouldn't it? We've come to know and love these characters as much as many of our favorite non-animated ones, and the filmmakers miraculously managed to gather the vast majority of the voice cast from the first two movies. That even the secondary characters still have the same voices makes TS3 an especially graceful way to end what might be the most consistent trilogy in film history. (Sorry, Lord of the Rings.) Also, the subplot involving Ken and Barbie? Terrific.

7. Kick-Ass

I stayed away from Kick-Ass for a long time. I wasn't exactly drawn in by the media uproar over the fact that 13-year-old Chloe Moretz swears like a sailor in a few scenes. I also knew that the movie was extremely violent, and I'm still sensitive to gratuitous mayhem, even if I'm watching more horror films than ever these days. So the controversy came and went, and Kick-Ass came to DVD, and curiosity finally got the better of me. What I found was a comic-book adaptation with an unflagging sense of humor, a whole lot of energy, and -- most surprising -- some emotional undercurrents that made me feel more than, say, Iron Man ever did (and I loved Iron Man).

Perhaps the key to Matthew Vaughn's movie, what makes the whole thing work, is the casting of Dave Lizewski, our painfully normal teenage hero. Aaron Johnson seemed to come out of nowhere to snag this role; his previous work mostly involved bit parts in little-seen films. In one year, he managed to play an unlikely superhero and a young John Lennon, and now he's a Hollywood It Boy. It's not hard to see why: Johnson is handsome, but he makes you forget his good looks in Kick-Ass by being a very specific kind of geek. He's into comic books, but he isn't friendless; he's lonely, but he's not especially off-putting; and he's the opposite of a burnout, maintaining ideals about justice that propel him into a makeshift costume and a life of crime-fighting. "Kick-Ass" seems like the dorkiest superhero name in history at the beginning of the movie, but by the end it actually sounds kind of cool. That's Dave's trajectory in a nutshell.

Of course, there's more to the story than one average kid's self-realization. As he has so many times before, Nicolas Cage tiptoes happily along the line between eccentricity and full-blown psychosis. Some critics might be tired of Cage's crazy-guy shtick, but I find nuances in each performance that engage me. Here, as former cop Damon Macready, he's certainly nuts, but he has a young daughter, Mindy (Moretz), whom he loves more than anything in the world, and that love grounds and steadies the character (as much as that's possible). Like so many superheroes, Damon has a score to settle with a crime boss; he battles wrongdoing as Big Daddy, with Mindy, aka Hit-Girl, by his side. He may not be the most rational parent in the world, but Damon finds his own ways to be nurturing. When he puts a bulletproof vest on his daughter and shoots her at medium range to prepare her for gun battle, he uses low-velocity bullets. Awww.

The film's other unexpectedly moving relationship involves Dave and his girlfriend, Katie (Lyndsy Fonseca). First nice surprise: They get together before the end of the movie, defying the tired notion that the hero can't win the heroine's love until after the climactic battle, wherein the former proves his mettle. Dave proves worthy of Katie's devotion pretty much by being his usual, dorky self. Once she realizes he's actually straight (long story), she finds him damn near irresistible. When that climactic battle finally arrives, what's shocking is that Dave's inner monologue, as he's being beaten to a pulp, is genuinely touching. He doesn't just like Katie because she's arm candy; he loves her because she's a good, if sometimes misguided, person. It's a real relationship, and he wants it to have a real future -- and so do we. In most cases, a superhero's life-or-death battle has only one possible outcome: life, victory, the triumph of good over evil, etc. Kick-Ass has the gumption to only partially satisfy our happy-ending expectations, which makes it far more emotionally satisfying than your typical comic-turned-movie. Yes, Vaughn's film has its moments of ghastly splatter and hair-curling vulgarity, but it's as much about the sweetness of love as the thrill of the kill.

8. Winnebago Man

"Cantankerous" is a nice word for what Jack Rebney is. The hero of Ben Steinbauer's unexpectedly moving documentary is prone to spouting vulgarities and conspiracy theories in roughly equal measure, and he's going blind. He lives alone, far from civilization, with a dog to whom he shows affection the only way he knows how: cussing and complaining. Rebney is one of those figures in nonfiction film, like the absurdly vain antagonist of The King of Kong, who pack more punch than a dozen average Hollywood characters put together.

Rebney shot to YouTube fame because, back in the day, he appeared in promotional films created by the Winnebago company. We expect pitchmen in such films to be bland, polite, and salesman-like. We don't expect them to swear at every living thing they see, including flies, and launch into hot-blooded tirades against cast, crew, and even themselves. Yet that's precisely what Rebney does in the widely viewed films, and that's what his many fans love him for.

Steinbauer doesn't spend too much time wondering why a man's renown could rest on such a weirdly candid display of rage. Instead, he explores Rebney the Man, who turns out to have a talent for deception exceeded only by his desire to spend a little more time in the spotlight. At first, the director has to drag his idol into the film, and there are uncomfortable scenes of Steinbauer driving an ambivalent Rebney to and fro.

It's hard not to think that the young filmmaker is exploiting his cranky old subject; after all, the latter's popularity rests on the schadenfreude of millions. What makes the movie memorable, and even redemptive, is that Rebney warms up as his reentry into civilized life proceeds. When he finally appears at a screening of the Winnebago films at the Found Footage Festival, two things become clear. His fans don't adore him simply because they enjoy watching a man suffer and melt down; they actually admire the honesty of his hilarious logorrhea, just as many people in 2010 admired the flight attendant who impulsively quit and then went down an emergency slide.

We keep so much inside; the Jack Rebneys of the world let it out, and it's cathartic as well as funny (and, yes, a little sad). Winnebago Man could have been a simple tribute or takedown, but instead it lands skillfully in the middle. It's really just a character study -- and boy, what a character.

Propaganda on wheels? The "war crimes" bus ads

2010-12-20T23:45:00.001-08:00

I haven't blogged in more than three months. I've been using Facebook to convey most of my opinions on local and global happenings, and since the fall was packed with GRE prep, classes, and another contract gig for the Times, I seriously de-prioritized blogging. Still, I missed it. I missed writing in brief or at length about things that mattered to me. I missed getting the occasional response from a reader in New Zealand or Vermont or Patagonia. And since the cinematic year is drawing to a close, and I always make sure to write about my top 10 films of the year, I'll make sure 2010 is no exception. (Expect that post in early January; I still have to catch up on Winter's Bone, The Ghost Writer, and other critical darlings.)

In the meantime, I'll say that the growing Facebook campaign to remove a series of bus ads that accuse Israel of war crimes is getting my goat. It reminds me of the controversy surrounding the Seattle Rep's 2007 production of My Name is Rachel Corrie, a one-woman show that presented the Israel-Palestine conflict from the perspective of a young woman who spent a lot more time with the Palestinians than with the Israelis, and who died after being run over by an Israeli bulldozer.

The Jewish community's argument against the show was that it offered a one-sided view of the Mideast conflict, and that the Rep's discussion panel included only liberal Jews. While it can certainly be argued that the play isn't an even-handed overview of Palestinian and Israeli concerns, the next step for outraged local Jews should have been to make statements, in whatever media they deemed appropriate, that reflected the pro-peace aspects of Israeli society and government. To an extent, they did just that. Aren't such actions protest enough?

Looking back, I think Rep artistic director David Esbjornson erred in claiming that the ADL's and Federation's program ads were an attempt to "discredit" the show. I also think Jewish leaders shouldn't have assumed that they would be afforded program space rather than having to purchase ads to air their views. As I've indicated on Facebook, in response to a group that intends to "stop" the bus ads, I think the Jewish community does itself a disservice when it pushes for censorship -- the outright removal of views it doesn't like -- rather than figuring out how best to answer the offending messages.

A little pro-Israel advertising might go a long way towards making people think; throwing around the word "libel" makes us look reactionary and defensive. And protected speech is protected speech. The bus ads qualify, and if that makes some local Jews uncomfortable, well, that's the price of free speech. The people who so despise those bus ads should come up with a little free speech of their own and, if need be, cover a few city buses with it. Couldn't hurt.

R.I.P., Fred

2010-09-11T00:55:00.001-07:00

Fred Lanphear, a longtime advocate of intentional community, became a personal hero of mine not long after I met him and his wife, Nancy, who serves with me on the Northwest Intentional Communities Association board of directors. Though Fred led a life full of noteworthy achievements, his unusually wise approach to illness and death was particularly inspiring. I'll miss him, and I'll always wish I'd had a chance to get to know him better. But even the brief time we spent together left me with a clearer idea of how to live well, and how to face the end of life with courage, dignity, and integrity. Thanks for everything, Fred.

Seven songs of summer

2010-08-31T15:15:00.000-07:00

None of these was released this summer, but they all got stuck in my head, kept popping up on KEXP, or otherwise made an impression.

"Black Sheep" (written by Metric, performed by Brie Larson)
When movies feature fictional bands that are supposed to rock, they usually suck. In fact, they tend to suck so much that their (equally fictional) fans' devotion is hard, if not impossible, to believe. The made-up bands in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, on the other hand, have a secret weapon: They're either real bands performing under false names (e.g., Crash And The Boys = Broken Social Scene), or their music was written by honest-to-God musicians with tons of actual fans. Beck wrote the songs played by Scott Pilgrim's band, Sex Bob-Omb, including the endearing Iggy Pop rip-off "Garbage Truck"; and Canadian pop powerhouse Metric wrote "Black Sheep," an unreleased track that Brie Larson -- as Envy Adams, the singer for fictional band The Clash At Demonhead -- nails to the wall. Whether or not you're a Metric fan, it's hard to deny the craftsmanship and outright catchiness of the song, and suddenly the throngs of worshipful fans make sense.

"Gimme Sympathy" (Metric)
This is Metric performing as themselves, from their 2009 album Fantasies, which got the band plenty of U.S. airplay. "Help, I'm Alive" was the lead single, but this infectious follow-up stands up better to repeated listening. The lyrics playfully name-check the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, and the band's irresistibly polished sound, not unlike that of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, makes this a perfect summer driving song.

"My Love" (The Bird And The Bee)
Foot stomps, hand claps, and then singer Inara George's deceptively sweet voice, which usually has a sardonic hidden agenda. But not this time: "Hey, boy, won't you take me out tonight / I'm not afraid of all the reasons why we shouldn't try." Right there, in the first two lines of the light, punchy chorus, you've got all the necessary ingredients for a fine romance: a date and some odds to overcome.

I didn't think much of the Shins' third album when it was released back in 2007, starting with that damn title. Wincing the Night Away? Really? As it turns out, it's got much of the charm of the band's much-praised debut and sophomore records. This song, in particular, includes nearly all of the Shins' best tricks: unpredictable melody, busy lyrics, and a subtle but persistent sense of humor that mocks songwriting clichés: "Faced with a dodo's conundrum / Ah, I felt like I could just fly / But nothing happened every time I tried." Especially great to run to!

The hype surrounding Arcade Fire's third album made it extremely unlikely that both fans and newcomers would be satisfied. While The Suburbs isn't as marvelously cohesive as Funeral or as striking, musically or lyrically, as Neon Bible, it's no slouch. "Suburban War," the record's centerpiece, powerfully conveys the nostalgia, sadness, and beauty evoked by American suburban life. Yet "Rococo," which creeps up on you, is at least as effective. Fans have identified this as Arcade Fire's grand statement against fickle music hipsters, but I'm more interested in the song's big, rolling sound, which finds yet another way to do what the band does so well: take the ordinary and build momentum until it feels apocalyptic.

Imogen Heap's 2009 album Ellipse is nowhere near as strong as her previous effort, Speak For Yourself, which includes the peerless "Hide and Seek." That said, "Aha!" is Heap at her best: fast, sly, and terrific in the chorus. The song mixes her trademark electronic sound with a slinky melodic line and an unidentifiable but massively catchy element (Middle Eastern? Eastern European?) that puts it over the top. It's a short track that doesn't waste a moment; you'll want to hit replay the second it's over.

Yes, the album's cover girl is suing the band, but what's more important is that Vampire Weekend pulled off what the Shins achieved with their second album: enough of the same to please fans, enough that's different to satisfy critics. Most of Contra sounds like pure summer fun; the band's signature wit is tucked into nooks and crannies along the way. "I Think Ur A Contra" takes a different tack, slowing things down and serving a few piercing critiques to the so-called revolutionary of the title: "You wanted good schools / And friends with pools / You're not a contra." Vampire Weekend is still playing with class and the cultural and political assumptions that accompany it; by varying their musical attack with this album closer, they've demonstrated a promising kind of growth. Plus, few songs are better to cool down with after a run.

Prodigal

2010-08-26T00:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a tough month for me. At the end of July, I made a pretty regrettable mistake, and the consequences were both predictable and appropriate, but also sad: I had to steer clear of my old stomping grounds, the Ravenna Kibbutz, for a while. Starting in September, I can go back to attending Shabbat dinners, movie nights, and the like, and I have to say, I'm looking forward to it. Spending even 45 minutes there reminds me why I fell in love with the Kibbutz in the first place: the people. My goal in the future is to treat those people as well as possible. Certain individuals might need space from me, and that's okay; I'd rather change my behavior to increase others' comfort than stop attending entirely.

After two years of weekly Shabbat dinners, doing something else on a Friday night punches a hole in my heart. I think it's safe to say that I've learned from this unfortunate episode, and that my knowledge of both myself and others has increased. And while none of this stuff may end up in the essays I write for my grad-school applications, I hope it'll help make the rest of my early thirties less dramatic and more focused on self-improvement and professional accomplishment. And so it goes.

The song that's stuck in my head this weekend, plus gelato

2010-08-21T01:05:00.000-07:00

YouTube isn't letting me embed the music video for "Black Sheep," from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, which I saw yesterday afternoon. Ah, well. The movie was loads of fun, and Brie Larson, as the title character's ex-girlfriend, delivers a stronger version of the song than Metric, the Canadian pop band that wrote it. Pity her rendition isn't on the soundtrack, which I hope to get at some point. I've already requested the Scott Pilgrim comic book from the library.

In other breaking news, I went to D'Ambrosio today and was blown away. Best gelato I've had since I visited Italy in 2000. Best flavor I've tasted so far? Fig-caramel. God, it's heavenly. About food and movies I'm still extremely capable of geeking out, which is nice to know. Why let yourself become jaded when you can remain an excited little kid inside a grown-up body?

The yummy and the profane

2010-07-29T15:42:00.000-07:00

Few sites have as straightforward a domain name as this one. Just another iteration of the popular rule that if you can imagine it, it exists on the Internet -- and it's swearing at you for no good reason.

The song that's stuck in my head this week

2010-07-27T23:37:00.001-07:00

2010-07-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

Neal Schindler was pretty damn disappointed by "Inception."

22 hours ago

- Irina Litvin aww really? what was so bad about it?
  22 hours ago
- Dain Michael Down You are the only person I've heard yet to say anything negative
  21 hours ago
- Fai Sigalov I think the hype is now exceeding the goodness of the movie, so people's expectations are too high. but I thought the movie was reasonably good.
  21 hours ago
- Neal Schindler Dain, the writing was strictly functional and mostly humorless, I didn't care about any of the characters (which has never been true before in a Christopher Nolan movie for me), and all in all I thought it was a muddled mess, visually exciting at times but mostly boring dramatically and narratively. And Nolan's "The Prestige" is just the opposite: lovely in nearly every way.
  21 hours ago
- Neal Schindler I think he should get his brother to help him write screenplays again. Also, the editing was really bad. Like, unusually bad.
  21 hours ago
- Tim O'Connor The three people I saw it with, and I, were all disappointed.
  17 hours ago
- Shaul שאולי Goldberg I thought the visuals were great
  17 hours ago
- Reed Forrester
  ‎90% of the dialogue was like this:
  "We have to gobbledgook now or really bad blah blah will happen!"
  "What do you mean?"
  "Thank you for asking me that leading question! What I meant was yet another nonsense rule about why we have to do this ridiculous but visually cool thing set to tense music."
  "But what about your psychological drama that is putting us all in grave danger of something or other?"
  "I stoically deny that I am controlled by my deep pain, but don't worry because at the end of the movie I will resolve my dilemma in an emotionally affecting way and redeem myself."
  12 hours ago
- Jason Vanhee Absolutely agree. It was almost impossible to invest in anything happening, the movie was internally inconistant in a terribly sloppy way, and in the end, it possessed no meaning at all.
  12 hours ago
- Neal Schindler Reed hath nailed it.
  5 hours ago
- Shaul שאולי Goldberg ‎@Neal -true, that is basically the movie. But the visuals were great.
  2 hours ago
- Neal Schindler Yes, yes. No one's debating that.
  about an hour ago
- Shaul שאולי Goldberg yay, I'm right for once!
  about an hour ago
- Shaul שאולי Goldberg wait, I'm always right!
  about an hour ago
- Jessica Punta when it opened with leonardo decraprio on like a beached whale, i was like "Titanic 2" here we go.
  11 minutes ago
- Neal Schindler I'm not a Leo hater, but this was hardly his best role.
  2 seconds ago
- Jessica Punta He was much better on Growing Pains
  2 hours ago
- Kimberly Stedman I liked it a lot
  about an hour ago

Trailer of the year so far

2010-07-25T15:29:00.000-07:00

With Jesse Eisenberg starring, Aaron Sorkin writing, and David Fincher directing, it could be pretty damn good. One of fall's must-sees for me.

Running

2010-07-20T21:57:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get the love/hate relationship thing. I began a Couch to 5k running class nearly two weeks ago, and our first in-class run was a shock to my system. The last memory I have of running for running's sake involves middle school, a mile-and-a-half trip around the track, a severe case of cotton mouth, and as close to a near-death experience as an eighth grader can have. I associate running with embarrassment at being the fat kid, or with envy of others to whom it seems to come so easily.

Now I know something about the gray area between the extremes: I, too, can run, and while it isn't easy, it isn't the hardest thing in the world. Tonight I alternated three minutes of running with a minute of walking -- I did five sets of that, for a total of twenty minutes in motion, plus the time to walk back from where I ended up. It made me feel good. It's not rocket science -- it's exactly like they say: Exercise makes you feel good. All the mental gymnastics someone like me has to do in order to actually get himself moving, that stuff's another story. That just makes me feel tired.

Another thing they say is true: Lace up your shoes and go outside, and you're 90% of the way there. 95%, even. Before my run tonight, I attended an open house at Antioch University's graduate psych program. I'm taking prereqs for a Bastyr University M.S., but I'm not done shopping around; the idea was for the prereqs to help me figure out whether I really want to do the three-year nutrition/psych grad program they offer. Antioch doesn't seem much cheaper than Bastyr, but I like their couples and family therapy track within the M.A.

Going to the event tonight helped me to realize that taking on eating disorders, especially in teenagers, will almost certainly require training in family therapy, since it's familial patterns as much as what's happening in the teen's mind that keep the disordered behavior going. I know full well that even well-intentioned parents who have nothing but love for their child can be confused about what to do, how to respond, in the face of a strange, wasting affliction like anorexia. They may be even less aware of the signs of compulsive overeating, or they may feel unable to confront them.

The prereqs for Antioch are simpler than those for the Bastyr program: three psych classes and 100 hours of "helping" work, either professional or volunteer. I've thought about volunteering at a crisis clinic in the past, and this would give me a good reason to do it. Also, I've already taken abnormal psych for the Bastyr program, and I might be able to do the other two classes online, making it easy to work while preparing for the master's at Antioch.

I ran into an old friend-of-a-friend at the open house, and she advised me against the MSW at UW, saying it doesn't provide enough clinical training. I was going to look into that program, partly because it's a good deal cheaper than either Bastyr or Antioch, and because another friend who's a therapist-in-training suggested I do so. In any case, the open house was exciting; even hearing about the Psy.D. program, which I'm unlikely to pursue, got my mind working.

Taking one day at a time has been a little harder than usual for me lately, as I try to incorporate exercise into my life, keep up with classes, do well in job interviews, and stay involved with Kibbutz matters while also keeping up my non-Kibbutz social life. Even without a day job, it's quite a balancing act, and I guess I needed to offload a few of my thoughts tonight. I hope to keep taking solo runs, even if I don't follow the instructor's "homework" schedule. Not giving up, in everything I try, is more important than doing things a particular way. That's one lesson running has taught me already. I bet it applies to my education and career planning, too.

R.I.P., Harvey

2010-07-12T23:49:00.001-07:00

You were a giant in the world of underground comics and a genuine working-class hero, and you'll be missed.

"Winnebago Man" looks terrific

2010-07-09T01:04:00.001-07:00

Dying to see this.

Missing Missy

2010-07-09T00:55:00.000-07:00

I don't care if it's real or a work of fiction; the e-mail thread currently circulating on Facebook, in which a designer mercilessly mocks a lowly admin, is one of the funniest things I've read all year. I literally laughed until I cried. I hope even cat lovers can appreciate its greatness.

The song that's stuck in my head this weekend

2010-06-26T12:07:00.000-07:00

I really liked the movie, too.

Comment of the week

2010-06-23T12:10:00.000-07:00

From my college friend Melon, about a recent post regarding health and fitness:

A) In some cases, the Obie reunion just came at a really good time - if it had been last year, I could have been your Fat Buddy (grad school sedentariness in a place where we needed a car for the 1st time, depressed job hunting, celebratory job-acquisition feasts, etc.), but it happened to be this year, when I've lost 40lbs.

B) You can do anything you actually, really want to, whether you hate change or not. It's got nothing to do with it. Change you start yourself isn't the same as change forced on you.

C) I totally wimped out of Couch to 5k - god, I hate running. But I like lifting weights! :)

As you might imagine, I particularly like point B.

Demons

2010-06-22T22:02:00.001-07:00

My friend Sasha has written a stunning account of helping someone battle alcoholism. Highly recommended.

The hippo cycle

2010-06-21T22:19:00.000-07:00

While preparing for my upcoming move, I discovered a box of 3.5-inch disks filled with writings from my high school and college years. I hope to perform some of the poetry at a future Kibbutz Coffeehouse, but for the moment I have to be content with posting the choicest bits right here. And what could be choicer than my hippo cycle? I still remember the night I started working on it: My parents told me dinner was ready, but I couldn't tear myself away from the computer. I miss that creative intensity and the sense of playfulness that, almost paradoxically, accompanied it. Finding these 15-year-old relics also reminded me of an interview Sasha Frere-Jones did several years back with Fiona Apple, in which she recalled something very similar:

FA: I used to write stories and stuff when I was in my room. I constantly think about this time. This makes me so sad in a certain way. I don’t know why I always reference this moment. I can remember sitting at my desk in my room, up at my mom’s house. And I remember my mom calling me for dinner over and over and over again, and me saying, “Wait, wait, wait,” because I was writing a story. I made up a story, and I was writing this twenty-page story. It was great, and I was finishing it up and I wasn’t going to leave until I was finished because I was really enjoying writing the story. I always remember that: I wasn’t going to go and eat dinner because I was finishing writing a story.
SFJ: Why is that sad?

FA: Because I wouldn’t do that now. Because I wouldn’t even start a story, let alone not go to dinner because I was finishing it.

SFJ: I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.

FA: That’s my job. Jesus.

Naturally, when I read that interview, it resonated deeply with me. It's not always clear how we go from creative dervishes to people who can't be bothered to start a story, but it's worth thinking about. Not so we can beat ourselves up, but so we can try to reclaim even a portion of what we had: that eagerness to make something new, to experiment, to play. And now, without further ado, the hippo cycle:

An Ode to Hippos Everywhere

The hippo's a majestic beast
In ev'ry shape and way,
Yet still there seems some ignorance
About its life and play.

The hippo's gray (we all know that),
And rather large and round.
Still, some of us (I won't name names)
Don't know where he is found.

The hippomus mammalius lives not in your backyard.
He dwells in rivers, swamps, and lakes,
And life is rather hard
For something so filled up with lard.

Indeed, proceed, hunt hippos!
(With camaras, not guns)
Don't let a hippo flatten you, however:
They weigh tons!

To conclude my lesson to
You readers mid-sized, large, and small,
I'll admit I don't know much
about the hippo-beast at all!

Hippo Limericks

There once lived a hippo from Dover,
Whose lifestyle seemed quite incomplete.
Legend says he aspired
To opera, was fired,
And ended up out on the street.

There once lived a hippo from Texas,
Who chased endlessly after her tail.
After years of hard work,
With a sigh and a smirk,
She succeeded, and then posted bail.

The weight of the world

2010-06-19T16:59:00.001-07:00

Since my last post, a lot has happened. I went to my college reunion, where I had the shocking realization that I'm one of those people who put on a significant amount of weight since college. I noticeably surprised at least a few former classmates, including one who pinched my abdomen and said, "What's going on here?" (I wasn't upset; he's a good enough friend that he gets to do that without incurring my wrath.) I walked around Oberlin in the muggy summer heat feeling like a big mound of fat. Many of my classmates seemed quite fit, and some looked younger than they had during college. I felt unappealing, regretful, and confused -- how had I let this happen to me?

Then I went to New York, where I began reading Frank Bruni's excellent memoir, Born Round. In it, the former New York Times food critic talks about his struggles with bulimia and compulsive overeating. I felt like I was reading my own story. In New York, I was walking a lot every day, much more than I do in Seattle; the same had been true in Oberlin. In both places, I had no other affordable transportation option. I huffed and puffed at times, but I survived. At the same time, I managed to eat more moderately than I had in many, many months.

The result: I lost weight. Even so, by the time I got to Virginia for an old friend's wedding, I once again felt fat and unattractive. It probably didn't help that Richmond was even muggier than Ohio and New York, and that the temperature was around 95 degrees. Also, weddings are a merciless indicator of how I'm feeling about my romantic prospects; in this case, I felt suddenly as though I'd be single forever unless I found a way to sustain my experiment in moderate eating. Being thin isn't the key to attracting a mate, but reining in self-destructive overeating would do wonders for my self-esteem (I know from past experience). In fact, I think getting a handle on my eating habits, and finding a way to exercise, would improve all areas of my life. Nothing can substitute for hard-won confidence.

I managed about five days of moderate eating after returning to Seattle, and then Shabbat dinner at the Kibbutz knocked me for a loop. (I wrote about this phenomenon recently for Jew-ish.com.) Carbs and sugar may not be the devil, but to someone looking to kick binge eating, they're diabolical enough. William Leith, in his food-addiction memoir, The Hungry Years, points out that carbs are many people's binge food of choice. Avoiding them entirely may not be practical or necessary, but cutting down, especially during communal feasts, is vital.

Focusing on fruits, vegetables, and protein has helped me feel healthier during the past couple weeks, and falling off the low-carb wagon last night was, well, instructive. I'm currently reading a book called 50 Ways to Soothe Yourself Without Food, and it helpfully addresses the black-and-white thinking that can doom a moderate eating regimen. People trying to change their eating habits make mistakes. There's almost always something to learn from them, provided you're able to spend a few moments not emotionally beating yourself to a bloody pulp.

As Bruni points out in his book, one screw-up can lead to the following logic: "Well, I messed up; might as well get it all out of my system with a nice, long binge! Then I can start my diet again in the morning." When this becomes a daily pattern, any hope of actually returning to moderate eating begins to fade. As I told my mother in Virginia, what I have trouble holding onto is that essential thing, hope, the intangible quantity that keeps people doing and trying, day in and day out. Wanting to give up? It happens. Actually giving up? A bad idea. In that spirit, I've enrolled in a "Couch to 5K" running class that takes the out-of-shape and gets them ready to run a 5K without stopping. The process takes six weeks. My ex-girlfriend Kelly is taking the class, and she looks and feels great.

I'm not much keener on running than on any other kind of vigorous exercise, but the gradualness of the Couch to 5K program appeals to me, as does the fact that it caters to people who, like me, aren't very fit. Also, the group runs will probably make it easier for me to handle the solo ones (the class involves homework). I thought about trying the program earlier this year, but going it completely alone, without a coach or fellow runners, was just too daunting. That's the thing about change: It's harder in isolation.

Dane likes to remind me that I hate change, and I've recently started correcting her more fervently. I don't hate change as much as I hate feeling worthless and ugly and empty. I just hate not knowing what to do to achieve the kind of change I want. I hate not knowing where to put my energy. And I hate being depressed, because it undercuts the part of me that loves change, that craves it, that desperately needs it to survive. When people learn how to change while being gentle with themselves, they love it. That's all I want, and I don't think it's an unreasonable goal.

Where "Lost" went wrong

2010-05-20T20:07:00.000-07:00

Mike Hale had a nice piece today in The New York Times about Lost. It's a show I've watched every episode of but have never written about, perhaps because I felt there wasn't much there there. Hale feels more or less the same way about seasons two through six, but he manages to wax pretty eloquent anyway. He assesses the series unmercifully:

The show had one good season, its first. It was very, very good — as good as anything on television at the time — but none of the seasons since have approached that level, and the current sixth season, rushed, muddled and dull, has been the weakest.

I don't agree that only the first season was good, but it's true that the last has been awful. Lost is the kind of network show that's just edgy enough to make you feel okay about watching it, but conventional enough to become, ultimately, a soothing addiction. That's what network series are about, by and large: addicting you and keeping you hooked. Shows like Firefly and Freaks and Geeks weren't designed to drive viewers away, but they eschewed enough creaky TV tropes to actually make you think, feel, etc. beyond the usual network level. Hence: canceled.

I'm not cynical about all television, but networks make themselves very hard to like. Lost is like an airport paperback: entertaining, but without a soul -- by design. The show was mostly about plot, except when it paused, briefly, to be about character. As Hale mentions, only a few of the island's denizens truly managed to distinguish themselves:

(With a few exceptions, notably Terry O'Quinn, as Locke, and Henry Ian Cusick, as Desmond, the performances have been undistinguished since the first season, which may have as much to do with the conception of the characters as with the actors themselves.)

I did enjoy Michael Emerson as Ben and Elizabeth Mitchell as Juliet, and I think Hale is remiss to leave them out. However, there's little question in my mind that Lost is -- again, by design -- much ado about almost nothing. I doubt the show's creators knew where they wanted it to go when they crafted that remarkable first season. That's relevant, despite what Hale says, because their lack of overarching vision is what led to the disaster of a season we diehards are suffering through now. Hale hits exactly the right note at the end of his article:

The mood among many of the show’s followers as they confront Sunday’s finale seems to be a mixture of regret and relief. Whatever happens to Jack and Kate and Sawyer on Sunday night, we’re getting off the island.

As Sawyer might say, it's about time we all kiss that damn rock goodbye.

Red Blue Green quoted by Pew Research Center!

2010-05-18T23:32:00.000-07:00

My April post about the British version of Scrabble that allows proper nouns apparently caught the eye of the nice folks at Pew, who proceeded to quote me in the recent article "Game Changer." To wit:

However, within a day, some bloggers and mainstream outlets such as the Washington Post did some investigating and determined that the BBC report was misleading. In reality, the Mattel company, which has international rights to the game but not the rights in the U.S., plans on releasing a new version called Scrabble Trickster, which will allow proper nouns. The original game will remain untouched.

Some bloggers updated their blogs accordingly.

"Reliable sources have informed me that the British version of Scrabble that permits proper nouns is, in fact, a gimmicky one-off rather than some kind of new world order," wrote Neal Schindler at Red Blue Green just hours after the initial news report surfaced. "The American version, owned by Hasbro, still bans proper nouns, as well it should. I feel better."

Needless to say, I'm honored. It's not every day a dedicated citizen journalist gets his name in lights. (I'm also thrilled, of course, to be mentioned in the same report as a blogger named Chris "Chugs" Taylor.) Hopefully I can show my appreciation by coming back to this blog, which I've been neglecting of late, mostly due to the demands of full-time work. Friends have noticed my absence and encouraged me to get back on the horse, and I appreciate that.

The song that's stuck in my head this weekend

2010-05-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

Total candy. I love it.

R.I.P., Ernie

2010-05-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

The legendary Tigers broadcaster, whose wonderful voice I grew up with, went today to the big ballpark in the sky. Thanks, Ernie, for so many years of making baseball exciting, and for your gentle, insightful point of view. You'll be dearly missed.

Eat your heart out

2010-04-27T11:07:00.001-07:00

My personal essay on Judaism and overeating is live at Jew-ish.com, complete with a luscious picture of pie. Allow me to wipe the drool off my screen...

Best one-line music review ever?

2010-04-26T00:57:00.000-07:00

Rolling Stone, on Florence and the Machine's 2009 album Lungs:

The best bits feel like being chased through a moonless night by a sexy moor witch.

So true!

Bleeding heart

2010-04-19T21:29:00.000-07:00

I'm working on an essay for Jew-ish.com that promises to be the most personal thing I've ever published anyplace other than here. It's about Jewishness and compulsive overeating, which seem correlated, though mostly through semi-anecdotal evidence and studies from quite a few years ago. I mentioned in therapy today that talking about my struggle with food addiction is a way of cutting through the shame of that insidious, widely misunderstood problem, and I think that's true.

It's possible that opening my heart in a piece of writing that the whole world can theoretically see isn't the wisest move. But I think there are some advantages to our tell-all Internet culture; one is that if the majority of people give TMI, it's no longer such a faux pas. I doubt anybody will decide not to hire me because they Googled my name and found me waxing philosophic about my Lexapro use or disordered eating.

It's certainly possible, but I think the positive aspects of putting it out there outweigh the negative ones. It's not like there's anything online that truly impugns my character. Talking about struggle, making it public, means it's no longer a secret. It also suggests a readiness to deal with things directly, to come out of isolation and embarrassment and work with myself as I am, not as I wish I was. That's why I chose my friend Michelle's recent picture of me as a Facebook profile photo:

My decision to take off my glasses makes this a slightly strange portrait, but what I focused on when I first saw it was its unsparing nature. It's easy to see my weight here: It's in my face, my cheeks, my chin. This is how I actually look, and while I'm not doing cartwheels about it, I'm trying to view this image with clear eyes and a peaceful mind. This is what I'm working with, and it's hardly perfect, but it's not a disaster, either. It's a pretty decent place to start.

I Love the '90s

2010-04-17T01:30:00.000-07:00

Did anything capture the decade's zeitgeist better than this beautiful, intelligent show? Doubtful. It still feels as fresh, funny, and insightful as it did in 1994, when I was around Angela's age and everything seemed new and scary and exciting. Thank heavens for Hulu.

The song that's stuck in my head this week

2010-04-15T17:07:00.000-07:00

The song that's stuck in my head this weekend

2010-04-10T18:20:00.001-07:00

When bad = awesome

2010-04-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

This looks sweet. I'm a sucker for certain bad movies (e.g., Howard the Duck), and one of the reasons I love film in general is that it brings people together. Sometimes, deeply awful movies are better at that than extremely good ones, and this documentary is proof (as is David Schmader's long-running, unfailingly hilarious Showgirls shtick.)

Comment of the week

2010-04-09T18:17:00.000-07:00

Julia responded to my recent post about antidepressants and weight gain:

You might want to try fish oil or flaxseed oil supplements instead of (or in addition to) meds. A Harvard study found that omega-3 fatty acids help with bipolar disorder and depression. I have used it for about ten years with no need for antidepressants or other meds to regulate my moods. And, whether or not it helps with moods, it's good for your heart and HDL. Good luck.

Good advice. Someone recommended St. John's wort before I started on Lexapro, but I've heard mixed things about it. Re: fish oil, I'm vegetarian, but flaxseed would work. I could even eat it on popcorn. Thanks, Julia!

R.I.P., Hans

2010-04-08T17:01:00.001-07:00

Hans Petersen was a ball of energy, a genuinely happy person, and a doer of good. That he died while installing solar panels on a roof reflects his commitment to improving the world.

I last saw Hans in 2006, when I was having a yard sale prior to my move to New York. He came by, chatted for a while, and advised me on a dilemma I was facing: whether or not to try antidepressants. Even when discussing such a potentially sensitive topic, Hans was upbeat, and his words stayed with me. He was one of a small group of people who actively encouraged me to take steps to improve my mental health, and for that I'll always be grateful.

I knew him in college as a dedicated communitarian, a lover of fun, and someone who cherished his friends and appreciated people in general. I'll miss his sunny outlook and his great sense of humor. You left us too early, Hans, and it's clear that you're already widely missed.

Lexapro vs. everything else

2010-04-06T17:50:00.000-07:00

Someone responded to my most recent post about antidepressants by asking whether I'd tried non-Lexapro meds. The short answer: Yes, I gave Celexa a whirl, and it seemed to diminish my verbal abilities. This was upsetting but not entirely unexpected, as I'd been warned many years before that some SSRIs have that effect.

Lexapro is ridiculously expensive at roughly $100 per monthly supply, but I'm reluctant to mess with other meds when this one has worked, on the whole, so well. I also know that my weight gain is almost certainly due to a variety of factors -- Kibbutz food, waves of mild depression that elude the drug, etc. -- so I'd be more likely to drop meds in general than to go searching for a "better" one. It probably doesn't get a whole lot better than this.

Is nothing sacred?

2010-04-06T13:57:00.001-07:00

Scrabble is, in this writer's opinion, one of the world's perfect games, yet Mattel insists on tinkering. I feel myself moving into cranky-old-man territory on issues like these, but I can't help it: When I was a boy, this kind of tomfoolery would be unthinkable. Capitulating to whiners who think the game is too hard, or too boring, isn't very classy, Mattel. Shame on you.

Update, 5:47 p.m.: Reliable sources have informed me that the British version of Scrabble that permits proper nouns is, in fact, a gimmicky one-off rather than some kind of new world order. The American version, owned by Hasbro, still bans proper nouns, as well it should. I feel better.

The contrarian

2010-04-06T13:51:00.001-07:00

It's easy to rag on Detroit, but my good friend Rachel Lutz refuses to do so, as a great Q&A in the city's LGBT newspaper, Between the Lines (which I used to write for), reports. I should add that Rachel's knowledge of Detroit history is formidable, and she gives a fantastic tour that would make anyone see the place in a very different light.

The song that's stuck in my head this week

2010-04-06T03:42:00.000-07:00

Your home for the LOLcat Passover story

2010-04-06T03:33:00.001-07:00

I've been getting an unusual number of page views lately, and I owe it all to the feline version of Exodus. When you Google LOLcat Passover, my post from last Pesach is the top hit. Thanks, Talmudic LOLcats, for bringing this humble blog an unexpected wave of attention.

Antidepressants and weight gain

2010-04-01T02:50:00.001-07:00

The other night at the Kibbutz's second-night seder, someone I know asked me if I'm on an antidepressant.

"Yep," I said. "Lexapro."

"I figured," he said. "That's no normal weight gain."

In the past I might have been upset, but he's right: I've gained a lot of weight since I went on Lexapro in October of 2008. Then again, my weight has gone up and down pretty dramatically throughout my life, and living at the Kibbutz exposes me to a lot of good food, and a lot of communal meals, where the social aspect of eating often gets the better of my willpower. Yet I do think that the antidepressant has something to do with my ascent to 225 pounds, possibly my highest weight to date.

While some Lexapro users attribute their weight gain to the drug's biochemical effects, I believe that, at least in my case, its psychological impact is just as significant. In the past, when I put on weight, I felt bad about it. I would eventually reach a point where I started feeling fat and unattractive, but I'd continue eating too much and not getting enough exercise until I finally snapped. Then I'd begin combating my overweight with a combination of exercise and self-deprivation, a tactic I learned as a teenager with anorexia. My weight would drop, and I'd feel better about my body on a superficial level, but I'd remain extremely afraid of relapse -- i.e., gaining the weight back. Since depriving oneself isn't a sustainable long-term strategy, I'd suffer the sad fate of many a yo-yo dieter: I'd end up even heavier than I started.

Even though unemployment is hard and I have a lot of work ahead of me if I want to attend Bastyr (for nutrition and health psychology, of all things!) in 2011, I'm thinking about going off Lexapro on a trial basis, to see how I feel without it. I'm unlikely to start losing weight simply because I drop the drug, yet I can't help but be curious about what would happen. Not freaking out about being overweight is a double-edged sword. It opens up the possibility of more fully accepting my body, flaws and all, which is something I'm eager and determined to do. On the other hand, overweight isn't healthy in the long run, and being too okay with it -- indifference isn't the same as acceptance, after all -- might not be such a good thing. I'll consult my therapist about it and do some soul-searching, but I imagine that if I go without the meds for a while and I feel the weight of the world return, I can go back on them.

I'm pretty pleased, all in all, that I've been able to use an antidepressant without taking an absolutist view of a complicated issue: the question of whether the positive effects of SSRIs outweigh their downsides. In my 18 months of use, I've decided that they help, but they alone are obviously not enough. And no, they don't steal your soul or make you an unwitting slave to the Man. If anything, people who aren't completely demoralized are more likely to stand up for what's right and fight against what's wrong. There are few simple choices in this world, and to inhibit serotonin reuptake or not to isn't one of them.

The song that's stuck in my head this week

2010-03-31T01:48:00.000-07:00

It's on Kate Silver's wonderful, fully downloadable March mix. The Ted Leo track is great, too. Collect them all!

Seven reasons I love "Greenberg"

2010-03-28T00:25:00.000-07:00

The new Ben Stiller movie, written and directed by Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale, Margot at the Wedding), is almost certain to end up on my list of 2010's best films, just as Baumbach's two previous efforts did in their respective years. Here are several of the many reasons I adored it:

1) Ben Stiller. In Greenberg, Stiller finally takes on a role worthy of his dramatic acting talent after far too many years of doing broad comedy. Nothing wrong with comedy, mind you; I still laugh at Zoolander. But I also remember 1998's Permanent Midnight, in which Stiller memorably played troubled writer (and addict) Jerry Stahl, whose memoir inspired the film. Roger Greenberg is addicted to a negative worldview more than anything else, and Greenberg is both funnier and more nuanced than Stahl.

Stiller is best known these days as a prankster (see this year's Oscars, and last year's, and 2008's...) and the star of broad, slapsticky comedies (There's Something About Mary, Meet the Parents, etc.). He wears his age interestingly in Greenberg, looking not unattractive but definitely worn by time. His face has become quite angular, which fits his character's hard-edged emotional exterior to a T. Some critics have mentioned the humanity that Stiller brings to the film's unlikable protagonist, and I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up with an Oscar nomination. Greenberg pushes people away more easily than he draws them in, but in one moving phone call, he proves his desire to change, and to be able to treat people as they ought to be treated, and as he wishes the world had treated him.

2) Greta Gerwig. She's been one of my favorite actresses since her engaging turn in Joe Swanberg's 2007 mumblecore romantic comedy Hannah Takes the Stairs, and in Greenberg she lights up the screen like the bright star she's bound to become. She's played sweet, aimless women like Florence Marr before, but here she reaches a new peak. Florence sees the best in Stiller's misanthrope, even though it'd be more convenient if she didn't. She begins to fall in love with him, but he resists. The fact is, Greenberg secretly loves Florence's positivity and kindness, but both qualities also scare him, as does any kind of commitment. From a clinic bed, she tells him he likes her more than he thinks he does, and of course she's right.

As Louis Menand once observed, some romantic comedies -- which is what Greenberg is, in a roundabout way -- make you fall in love with only one of the two central characters. We come to like Greenberg, albeit grudgingly, but we love Florence. Gerwig uses her mumblecore training to excellent effect, finding emotional beats-within-beats in a given scene, making every hesitation count. Florence may be confused and the victim of her own dysfunctional patterns, but she's hardly stupid. Maybe she too easily forgives Greenberg's childish tantrums, but one of the film's big questions seems to be whether some people are destined to go through life without healthy relationships. For better or worse, Florence can't believe that's true, at least of Greenberg. And her faith in him, though inexplicable at times, helps him find traces of new hope. The film ends, after all, on a genuinely hopeful note.

3) The secondary casting. Rhys Ifans is superb as Greenberg's best friend, who's understandably ambivalent about the friendship; Baumbach's wife, Jennifer Jason Leigh, who wrote the story upon which the movie is based, is terrific as Greenberg's ex, who isn't buying his attempts at normalcy and isn't afraid to tell him so; and Chris Messina does great work in a small role as Greenberg's brother, whose conventional success conceals a mean streak that both belies his frustration with Greenberg and reveals that anger runs in the family.

4) The use of L.A. It was David Denby who commented that Los Angeles comes across in Greenberg as a pretty decent place to live -- nothing more, nothing less. It's so often depicted as a repository of airheads and soulless movie execs, or as a glittery wonderland, that it's nice to see it as a real place filled with people who aren't that different from the rest of us (except that they can't imagine getting around without a car).

5) Baumbach's smart, soulful, very funny writing. Greenberg's script is the opposite of lazy; it never rests when it can add another sharp detail. Late in the film, Greenberg picks up a small ruler in Florence's apartment and finds that it's covered with dinosaurs that move when you tilt it. I had that ruler when I was a kid, and the specificity of this prop helps us understand Florence's childlike view of the world even more precisely.

Similarly, we see Greenberg, in a low moment, pressing a crosswalk button with the end of his sleeve wrapped around his hand, so he doesn't have to touch the button directly. This also happens fairly late in the story; at this point, we already know about Greenberg's problems relating to other people, but we're only now seeing the pervasiveness of his obsessive-compulsive tendencies. This revelation not only makes sense, it softens our judgment of his sometimes atrocious behavior. At least it had that effect on me, since I, too, have OCD symptoms. Not since Scorsese's Howard Hughes biopic, The Aviator, have I seen obsessive compulsion rendered so sensitively.

Baumbach may put difficult characters at the center of his films, but he never does it merely to deride or make a spectacle of them. Jeff Daniels' pretentious academic in Whale, Nicole Kidman's chilly sister-of-the-bride-to-be in Margot, and now Stiller's Greenberg -- they're all deeply troubled people, but they're also undeniably human, and their humanity is never wholly obscured. Those who find Greenberg depressing may wish to reconsider the ending, which feels so right and conveys such hope, in spite of all that's gone before, that I nearly gasped.

6) The sex scenes. They're realistically awkward and revealing of character, not just skin. Maybe the French are still best at filming sex convincingly, but American indies are catching up.

7) The dog subplot. Baumbach found the perfect way for prickly Greenberg and sweet Florence to bond throughout the film: They both love his brother's dog, Mahler. (Greenberg's brother is, indeed, the type of person who would give a German shepherd a pretentious name.) It also happens to be the perfect way to humanize Greenberg, who valiantly scolds a passel of drunk college kids who feed Mahler pizza -- a forbidden food -- after the dog gets home from the vet's. Greenberg isn't exactly one of those people who prefer animals to humans. Instead, he uses Mahler to revive his own ability to care about any living creature; the affection he develops for the dog prepares him for the possibility of loving Florence, who so richly deserves to be loved. At one point, she observes that Mahler might be a person in canine clothing, and Greenberg seems to feel the same way.

I loved this movie so much that it made my heart hurt. I was surprised, quite frankly, that it lived up to my high expectations. It may not be to everyone's taste -- that's the way it goes with Baumbach's oeuvre, apparently -- but those with whom it resonates will find themselves thoroughly rewarded.

Yet another reason to appreciate President Obama

2010-03-28T00:21:00.001-07:00

The White House seder is now an annual tradition. Hard to imagine Dubya sitting down to one of these.

Romance, the J-Lo-Hew way

2010-03-25T22:20:00.000-07:00

Gentleman, do you want to impress your lady? TV's Jennifer Love Hewitt has some tips for you. Including this one:

From the list of "What A Man Should Know": "How to pick a diamond," and "To always have a coat for you." A coat for you? Always? He should always have a coat for you?

I know I always have a coat for my lady. Didn't even need a bad actress to tell me. That's just how I roll.

Many thanks to Michael for letting me know about this one.

Israel needs a designated driver

2010-03-16T22:26:00.000-07:00

Thomas Friedman's column on Israel's ill-conceived recent actions is right on. I haven't been much of a Friedman fan in the past, but he's growing on me. If only Israel -- or, for that matter, the U.S. -- actually listened to him.

She may not deserve the Oscar she gets tomorrow...

2010-03-07T03:11:00.000-08:00

...but Sandra Bullock is undeniably a good sport, based on her performance at the Razzies. Will this be the first time in movie history that someone wins an Academy Award and a Razzie for the same year?

Fun Forest, we hardly knew ye

2010-03-05T18:07:00.001-08:00

Well, truth be told, we probably knew ye a little too well. Your midway games were staffed by wretchedly bored individuals who always seemed to be dying for a smoke, and your laser-tag maze smelled like old feet. I did, however, really like your roller coaster, even if riding it wasn't the safest thing in the world. Soon enough, you'll be nothing but a distant memory, replaced by something that certain Seattleites consider even tackier than a third-rate miniature amusement park: Chihuly art. Though it'll probably be better for our collective mental health to mock the art instead of walking through the Fun Forest and sighing about the utter lack of fun to be found there.

Geek love

2010-03-03T21:14:00.000-08:00

I figure the next stop on my search for a mate is the exciting world of dating sites for nerds. Fortunately, Nerve.com was kind enough to do a roundup of geek-romance nodes (isn't "node" a nerdy word?) so I don't have to. I did, however, write an article once about love among Seattle's hardcore Scrabble enthusiasts. It doesn't get a whole lot geekier than them.

E.J. Dionne nails it

2010-03-03T20:54:00.000-08:00

In a recent Washington Post column, E.J. Dionne got to the heart of the Great Health-care Holdup of 2010 better than pretty much every other writer I've read. The piece spotlights an exchange between President Obama and Sen. John Barasso (R-Wyo.), who is also a doctor:

Addressing Obama, Barrasso suggested that we might be better off if people were insured only for catastrophic care. "Mr. President, when you say [people] with catastrophic plans, they don't go for care until later, I say sometimes the people with catastrophic plans are the people that are [the] best consumers of health care in . . . the way they use their health-care dollars."

"A lot of people" with insurance, he added, "come in and say, 'My knee hurts, maybe I should get an MRI,' they say. And then they say, 'Will my insurance cover it?' That's the first question. And if I say 'yes,' then they say, 'okay, let's do it.' If I say 'no,' then they say, 'Well, what will it . . . cost?' And 'What's it [going to] cost?' ought to be the first question. And that's why sometimes people with . . . catastrophic health plans ask the best questions, shop around, are the best consumers of health care."

Obama played the old TV character Columbo, who thrived on posing seemingly naive questions: "I just am curious. Would you be satisfied if every member of Congress just had catastrophic care? Do you think we'd be better health-care purchasers?"

Barrasso answered in the affirmative, though he didn't propose that senators dump their present coverage. Obama came right back: "Would you feel the same way if you were making $40,000 . . . because that's the reality for a lot of folks. . . . They don't fly into [the] Mayo [Clinic] and suddenly decide they're going to spend a couple million dollars on the absolute, best health care. They're folks who are left out."

Obama concluded: "We can debate whether or not we can afford to help them, but we shouldn't pretend somehow that they don't need help."

One more time: "people with . . . catastrophic health plans ask the best questions, shop around, are the best consumers of health care." What Barrasso is saying is that forcing people into scarcity thinking by ensuring actual scarcity makes them smarter consumers. It's not a big leap to suggest that we ought to let poor, marginalized people stay poor and marginalized, since helping them would cloud their minds, which years of indigence have polished to crystal clarity. On the other hand, Obama's response to Barrasso is one of the president's finer recent moments. The folks who grumble about his supposedly weak leadership on health-care reform should pay attention to the way he's continuing to push for it, undeterred by the GOP's nonsense.

Louis Menand on psychiatry

2010-02-27T19:29:00.001-08:00

He's been one of my favorite New Yorker writers for nearly 10 years, and his new piece on psychiatry is as witty, wise, and humane as anything he's written. Highly recommended.

Here's the exchange that followed my posting a link to the article on Facebook:

Neal Schindler
I love Louis Menand. This piece is a great reminder that the debate about psychiatric meds is much more complex than we're generally told it is. Big Pharma may have an agenda ($$), but proselytizers against psych meds piss me off just as much sometimes. But of course they're not The Man, so they must be right. Gwen Davis, thought you might appreciate this especially.

Thursday Rome
word.

Gwen Davis
That was a good piece. Newsweek, a couple weeks ago, came out with a similar story. It is toss up whether to take meds for depression and other disorders; though, I am probably of the opinion, if something is going to take away suffering -- however good-nothing the something may be -- take it. If it improves the quality of life, most likely nothing to lose. Leave it up to scientists and physicians to fix the psychiatric mess.

It is important to also be aware of the difference between mild depression and other more critical mental illnesses. For severe conditions, medication all the way. Don't want to return to pre-1950s, where people were locked in insane asylums for life, because they could not function in regular society.

It's a confusing, world! Hopefully as time goes on, treatments (or lack thereof) will improve.

Neal Schindler
Agreed re: severe vs. mild. I certainly know of people who can't function without meds, and anti-meds advocates probably don't want those people stuck in completely dysfunctional lives when there's an alternative. What bugs me about anti-meds proselytizing sometimes is the same thing that bugs me about the Republicans' obstruction of health care: It's easy to object, but it's hard to come up with a superior real-life solution. Objecting to meds on principle is fine and good, but some people need something to actually make their daily existence bearable. Their situation isn't outside the realm of principled argument, but sometimes practical necessities are the priority over principle. That isn't always giving in; sometimes it's just compromise, of the kind that adults sometimes have to do in a complex world.

R.I.P., J.D.

2010-01-28T23:00:00.000-08:00

The New York Times ran a classy obit. I should really read Catcher again. It's been too long.

R.I.P., Howard

2010-01-27T20:50:00.000-08:00

They say you were influential. Somehow I made it through four years at Oberlin without reading even a page of A People's History; that's something I should rectify one of these years. May your work and life continue to inspire lefty activists and scholars! Lord knows they could use the inspiration these days.

"Wake up your eggs..."

2010-01-23T10:35:00.000-08:00

I wholeheartedly object to the product, but the ad is fantastic:

(Hat tip to Sheri.)

Additive properties

2010-01-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

During a spare moment in chem class, I did a few simple equations and discovered that I spent roughly two-thirds of the '00s in relationships. The percentage surprised me a bit, and I started wondering whether a higher single-to-coupled ratio would be healthier.

Like other people I've known over the years, including some of the women I've dated, I prefer not to be single. But maybe deciding to be single for a while would be a good thing. I know someone who strung together five two-year relationships (= 10 years of being somebody's girlfriend) from the middle of high school until well after college, starting a new one whenever an old one ended, like a chain smoker. Finally, after boyfriend #5 fizzled out, she went on a relationship "fast," and the experience was positive. She realized she could survive on her own.

The yearning to find a partner is, of course, a natural one, especially for someone who's almost 31. But the "why" of that yearning -- to escape loneliness, to feel desired and therefore desirable, to bolster flagging self-esteem -- is where the problem often lies. My determination to get regular exercise and lose weight is partly about wanting to feel comfortable in my own body, and thus confident enough to enter a relationship for the right reasons -- or at least fewer wrong ones. It might also make dating a little less nervewracking.

Children of intermarriage, unite!

2010-01-19T10:48:00.000-08:00

My piece on the Half-Jewish Network went live today at Jew-ish.com. It's an intriguing organization, and the topic of intermarriage is a real Pandora's box in Jewish circles, so I look forward to future discussions of it on the Jew-ish blog. I happen currently to be reading a borrowed copy of Doron Kornbluth's Why Marry Jewish?, a calm, thoughtful argument against intermarriage based on studies suggesting it makes life difficult for couples and their children. Kornbluth's thesis is that the added difficulty isn't worth it. It's interesting to get the other side's views (I remain unconvinced that intermarriage is as harmful as Kornbluth says), and I hope to write about the book soon. As I read it, I can't help but think of Jerry Mander's Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television -- another book-length essay that swam against the cultural tide in the name of what (the author thought) was best for humankind.

Too soon?

2010-01-18T11:30:00.000-08:00

Margaret Talbot's New Yorker article about Perry v. Schwarzenegger, the gay-marriage case that could end up before the Supreme Court, is a piece of first-rate reporting. Its central question ("Is it too soon to petition the Supreme Court on gay marriage?") leads to interesting parallels with Brown v. Board of Education (1954) and Loving v. Virginia (1967), which made interracial marriage legal in all 50 states.

Don't do it, AMPAS

2010-01-18T00:51:00.000-08:00

Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences,

Please don't give Avatar the Best Picture statuette. Sure, it won the Golden Globe, but remember The Hurt Locker? The 2009 war movie that didn't cost $310 million? The one with a terrific screenplay, fine acting, and top-notch direction? Let Cameron's baby sweep the sound and visual-effects categories. Then, when it comes to the big one, honor a movie that isn't a rehash of 10 other movies dressed up in (admittedly spectacular) CGI.

Sincerely,
Neal Schindler

Stay

2010-01-17T19:38:00.001-08:00

I love the poet and essayist Jennifer Michael Hecht, and I appreciate her bossy tone in her recent post about suicide. Particularly this:

Don’t kill yourself. Life has always been almost too hard to bear, for a lot of the people, a lot of the time. It’s awful. But it isn’t too hard to bear, it’s only almost too hard to bear.

BBC article on the set-point theory of body weight

2010-01-17T18:23:00.000-08:00

We talked about this concept a bit last quarter in nutrition class. Since my own body image is reaching an undesirable low point these days, I'm trying to build a little momentum in the direction of exercising, even if that means going back to the dreaded gym. The genetic explanation is somewhat comforting:

One expert, Professor Jane Wardle, believes there could be a genetic answer, through what's known as the FTO gene. Adults who have one variant of this gene weigh on average more than everybody else.

Prof Wardle believes the gene can influence appetite, leading some people to not know when they are full. Those without the gene, she thinks, find it easier to say no to food.

At the same time, I know that personal effort can make a big difference, at least for me. I've gone back and forth from unhealthy lows to unhealthy highs, rarely staying in the middle for very long. And even when I am in the middle, I'm generally moving fairly rapidly toward one dysfunctional pole or the other. I don't want to keep going like this. I'm starting dodgeball at the end of the month, but it's going to take more than that to get my weight under control. I also want to try to find a way to structure my eating -- to budget it -- the way I've done with money. Stay tuned...

Starring Lady Gaga

2010-01-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Steven has been playing and singing Lady Gaga songs around the house for months now, and I'm finally beginning to understand his love of the Ga. He's more interested in her as a performance artist than I am, but I share his appreciation for her music. My current favorites, "Paparazzi" and "Alejandro," are both extremely smart pop compositions with hooks so sweet they give you a toothache. Also, the "Paparazzi" video is amazing:

Check out the costumes and makeup, especially in the scene where (spoiler alert!) Gaga poisons her boyfriend. Her black lipstick! Her honeybee-colored outfit! Her boyfriend's metallic eyepatch! I never tire of seeing her smile as she drops the powder in his drink.

And now, your moment of "xkcd"

2010-01-14T18:58:00.000-08:00

Courtesy of Debs.

I suppose it was inevitable

2010-01-13T13:51:00.000-08:00

The L.A. Times reported on the show this morning. Funny thing is, an entirely different Obama musical debuted -- and flopped -- in Seattle last year. Maybe the story just doesn't fit the form? That said, the clip of Hillary belting out "I'll be ready on Day One!" is pretty cool.

Abnormal psychology

2010-01-11T18:19:00.000-08:00

I've written here about my struggles with depression and disordered eating, but not so much about my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. They've died down a bit since I went on Lexapro more than a year ago, but I still find myself battling irrational cause-effect relationships in my mind. It's not "If I lend this camera to my friend for the night, he'll break it," but instead: "If I lend this camera to my friend for the night, I'll be unable to stop worrying about whether he'll break it and thus my work will suffer." It's a step removed from actually not trusting the friend.

It's not (usually) that I'm an ungenerous person, it's that I let my neurosis hijack my behavior and prevent me from being as giving as I want to be. (And yes, I'm the one letting this happen. I'm getting better at fighting what I call "pre-worry" or "meta-worry" -- worrying compulsively that I'll worry -- but I still have a ways to go.) Sometimes it's hard for me to separate my mind's obsessive-compulsive "reasoning" from valid logic or meaningful emotion. It's the same problem I've long had with ambient noise, a big pet peeve of mine.

Sometimes I have reason to complain about noise (i.e., a "normal" person would), while at other times I'm unusually sensitive to unwanted sounds (a "normal" person wouldn't be upset, but I am). Figuring out the boundary between reasonable and unreasonable discomfort remains tricky for me, though again, I'm improving. Using earplugs, which I began doing when I moved to the Kibbutz in August of 2008, has been a minor revelation. How did I survive without them all those years? How much tension could they have relieved when I was in high school and college?

I don't have a lot more to say about this at the moment, except that I've gotten better at making decisions, and not whipping myself into a total neurotic lather in the process, since starting therapy in late 2005. I'm grateful to have somewhere to go each week -- or every couple weeks, now that I'm in a money crunch -- where I can decompress, talk through my issues du jour, and realize how much stress I carry around. I still prescribe exercise and meditation for my problems, but I'm having a devil of a time getting myself to fill the prescription.

Peter Gabriel and Hot Chip cover Vampire Weekend

2010-01-10T20:25:00.001-08:00

And it's wonderful. Give a listen for yourself. (Just click the play button to the left of "Play results for Hot Chip Peter Gabriel.)

Trouble in Weeklyville

2010-01-09T10:33:00.001-08:00

Thanks to a recent jury decision, the San Francisco Bay Guardian may seize some Village Voice Media assets, possibly including my old employer, Seattle Weekly. VVM and SFBG have already begun sniping at each other. It's serious media news, but the back-and-forth attacks are pretty good entertainment, too. Thanks to Michael for the link.

Film Comment's 100 best films of the '00s

2010-01-08T18:02:00.000-08:00

Of the magazine's picks, here are the ones I'm most eager to see:

2. In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar Wai, Hong Kong, 2000)
3. Yi Yi (Edward Yang, Taiwan/Japan, 2000)
9. 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristi Mungiu, Romania, 2007)
10. The New World (Terrence Malick, U.S., 2005 1223)
70. Summer Hours (Olivier Assayas, France, 2009)
86. Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt, U.S., 2008)
91. Gran Torino (Clint Eastwood, U.S., 2008)
95. When the Levees Broke (Spike Lee, U.S. 2006)
96. The Best of Youth (Marco Tullio Giordana, Italy, 2003)
100. The White Ribbon (Michael Haneke, Austria/Germany/France/Italy, 2009)

All in all, it's a great list. I'm really not sure what my favorite film of the decade is; Roger Ebert put Synecdoche, New York at the top of his list, and I haven't even seen it yet.

Update, Jan. 17: Though it's hard to choose, I'd say Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001) is my favorite movie of the '00s.

The return of Andrea Arnold

2010-01-07T16:20:00.000-08:00

The extremely talented British writer-director, whose 2003 short film Wasp won an Oscar (and still shocks me with its brilliance), has a new movie, Fish Tank, coming out in the U.S. this month. (Her first feature, Red Road, was intelligent and very well acted and directed, but a little dry for my taste.) Based on the trailer, and the fact that it's racking up international awards, I'm betting Fish Tank is her ticket to the worldwide acclaim she so richly deserves. Arnold is especially impressive to me because she's nearly 50 -- decades older than the typical up-and-coming filmmaker. Her work is an inspiring reminder that it's never too late to begin a creative endeavor, or even to become a career artist.

The song that's currently stuck in my head

2010-01-03T14:04:00.000-08:00

Lady Gaga meets Ace of Base. And it's splendid.

My top 10 films of 2009

2010-01-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

1. Humpday

As I wrote in June, Lynn Shelton's highly improvised tale of two buddies who dare themselves to make amateur porn together (despite being straight) goes places I didn't expect it to. Hell, most of where this movie travels is off the map. Though I appreciate the "bromance" genre, which aims to explore male friendship in ways rarely seen onscreen, I'm used to films like I Love You, Man that only hint at the squirm-inducing truths beneath the comedy. Not Humpday.

It may be nominally about guy-on-guy action, but Shelton's movie investigates monogamy, polyamory, the paradoxes of settling down, the joys and perils of being a wanderer, and how friendship and sexuality rub up against each other in our relationships. By giving them little more than an emotional trajectory to follow in any given scene, Shelton got remarkably realistic dialogue out of her talented triad: Mark Duplass and Joshua Leonard as the reunited friends, Ben and Andrew, and Alycia Delmore as Ben's concerned (but not closed-minded) wife. Delmore's vulnerable, intelligent performance is one of the year's best by an actress; I hope to see more of her in the near future.

My friend Michelle, who writes screenplays, commented that she envied Shelton's ability to write such honest, naturalistic dialogue. This was, of course, before she knew about the director's working methods. Leonard has come a long way since The Blair Witch Project; his Andrew embodies the archetypal restless soul while remaining a fully realized, three-dimensional character. Duplass is tremendously present as an actor, which is key, since a lot of the film's comedy (and, for that matter, its drama) comes from Ben's reactions to the outrageous dare as it changes from a drunken pipe dream into an uncomfortably genuine proposition.

What it means that these men want to make porn together keeps shifting, as such daring projects, uncertainly entered into, tend to do in real life. Shelton gets an amazing amount of psychodrama out of her ridiculous-sounding premise, which might be wearying if the whole thing weren't so damn funny. Added bonus: Humpday was made and set right here in Seattle. It may not have been the best year for movies in general, but it was certainly a good year for local ones.

2. The Hurt Locker

Just as people didn't expect Mickey Rourke's performance in The Wrestler last year, few would have predicted that action-movie veteran Kathryn Bigelow would make one of 2009's best-reviewed films. (Then again, her filmography includes not only the widely mocked Point Break but also 1995's visionary, underrated Strange Days.) My friend Reed observed that The Hurt Locker is respectful towards soldiers without glorifying or sugarcoating their work. Few war films I've seen have managed that balance as well as this one.

The movie gathers further strength from journalist Mark Boal's airtight screenplay and Jeremy Renner's astonishing, Oscar-worthy performance as William James, a man whose truest love is disabling explosives in Iraq. As many critics said, a subplot that sends James into civilian territory on a personal mission risks losing narrative focus, but for a film that has focus to burn, that risk is worth taking. The sequence in question provides both a welcome interlude between tense combat sequences and an added sense of emotional weight. The Hurt Locker is a compelling character study, a vivid portrait of war, and a tribute to those who endure it in real life.

3. Adventureland

Greg Mottola's latest coming-of-age dramedy breathes new life into the genre. Then again, so did his 2007 hit Superbad. Roger Ebert praised Up in the Air director Jason Reitman for making intelligent, somewhat edgy mainstream fare, and the same could -- and should -- be said about Mottola. Adventureland follows an Oberlin College graduate (Jesse Eisenberg) through the summer of 1987. He spends his last months of freedom before grad school working at the titular amusement park and befriending some of his equally overqualified coworkers.

Most alluring of all is Em (Twilight's Kristen Stewart), who's having an affair with an older man (Ryan Reynolds, well cast) but might be amenable to the advances of someone her own age. Adventureland doesn't deal with groundbreaking topics, but it succeeds in so many ways that it can't help but feel fresh. It's funny, touching, and thoughtful in all the right places, and the combined intelligence of the screenplay, Eisenberg, Stewart, and the invaluable Martin Starr (Freaks and Geeks) makes the whole thing shine like carnival neon at dusk. It's a lovely, heartfelt movie, and I smile just thinking about it.

4. Whip It

Local culture pundit Geoff Carter considers Whip It a companion piece to Adventureland. It's true that the movies share a bittersweet, smartly comic take on life, but while the latter portrays young people enduring the humiliation of crappy summer jobs, the former is about a young woman enjoying the thrill of a new extracurricular activity: flat-track roller derby. Ellen Page's natural talent is easier to appreciate outside the Juno hype bubble, and the role of Bliss, the wannabe derby girl, suits her beautifully. Reviewers said about Whip It pretty much what they said about Adventureland: familiar beats, exuberantly hit.

It's the details that matter: Daniel Stern is funny and moving as Bliss's milquetoast father, Marcia Gay Harden sharp as a blade in the role of her domineering mother. And the bunch that first-time director Drew Barrymore assembled for her derby squad -- Eve, Juliette Lewis, Jimmy Fallon (not awful!), a dialed-down Kristen Wiig, Andrew Wilson (brother to Owen and Luke), and Barrymore herself -- is an example of top-notch casting. Any film with room for all that and still a bit to spare for Arrested Development's Alia Shawkat to look like a rising star is a generous one indeed. I picked most of this year's top 10 based on how happy they made me, and Whip It made me very, very happy.

5. Inglourious Basterds

That the 153-minute running time of Quentin Tarantino's latest film goes by in a flash is one testament to its genius. Another is the fact that we care about his characters. After 1997's Jackie Brown, QT began favoring style over substance in a way that made it hard to get emotionally invested. Basterds, arguably his return to form, is grounded in emotion, starting with the widely praised first scene, in which Nazi Col. Hans Landa (Oscar shoo-in Christoph Waltz) smoothly interrogates a French farmer about the Jews he may or may not be hiding in his house. That scene's bloodless yet brutal denouement is unforgettable -- and a lot of what follows is hard to shake, too.

I've seen wham-bam movie endings, but Tarantino stages a truly remarkable finale at the theater owned by Shosanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent, expertly balancing toughness and vulnerability). Sound, image, classic tragedy, and primal rage combine to exhilarate rather than pummel the viewer. After serving up compelling character development, delicious visuals, and typically smart Tarantino dialogue (often in German or French), Basterds rewards our patience with the kind of wish fulfillment only the id -- or a filmmaker deeply in touch with it -- could concoct. The icing on the cake: Brad Pitt in one of his most entertaining roles to date.

6. Up

I've said it before: I'm a sucker for Pixar. But the studio gives me no choice when it turns out emotionally potent, visually awesome all-ages fare year after year. The supremely poignant sequence that sums up the marriage of Ellie and Carl (Edward Asner, terrific) is the only cinematic moment this year that made me cry. And I didn't just cry -- I sobbed. If there's a lovelier depiction of lifetime partnership out there, I'd like to see it. I haven't watched the sequence for a second time, in part because I'm afraid I won't get as emotional, but also because I'm afraid I will.

The rest of Up is breezy, smart, funny, and solidly entertaining (the "talking" dogs alone could probably carry a movie), but nothing in it compares to that magical account of a happy marriage -- and, to a lesser extent, the scene where Carl takes another look at his and Ellie's "adventure book" and gets a memorable surprise.

7. An Education

Some coming-of-age stories, especially if they're based on memoirs, seem more like therapy for the writer than entertainment for the audience. An Education isn't like that. Nick Hornby's screenplay, adapted from Lynn Barber's memoir, is consistently funny and bright even as it probes that thorniest of British issues, class, and depicts an affair between a thirtysomething man and an underage girl.

As in so many good films, the excellence starts with the casting. Carey Mulligan is a revelation as Jenny, the precocious teen who goes in search of real life and gets a bigger helping of it than she expected. Alfred Molina is superb as her moody father, and Peter Sarsgaard portrays her lover, David, as a suave, handsome trickster whom few girls could resist. Of course, we're drawn into David's con as well, hoping against the odds that he won't break Jenny's heart. Yet the movie shows its true strength when he does turn out to be a knave, and Jenny responds less like a schoolgirl than like a budding adult. Olivia Williams and Emma Thompson do great work in small roles, and the film ends on just the right note.

8. Fantastic Mr. Fox

There's never been a better time for animated film. Maybe the '70s were the golden age for live-action cinema, but the '00s (and hopefully also the '10s) might represent the pinnacle of animation. Where Up is a deeply emotional journey, Fox is a high-spirited, briskly intelligent caper. Liked Ocean's 11? You'll love this movie. Loved The Royal Tenenbaums? Well, that film's writer-director, Wes Anderson, was also at the helm of Fox, his best work since Rushmore -- and arguably his best, period. The much-lauded voice work by George Clooney, Meryl Streep, and Anderson regulars Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman deserves all its kudos, and the stop-motion animation makes every frame a delight. When I'm a parent, I'll be even more grateful for kid-friendly fare that actually gives me renewed faith in the movies. Bravo, Mr. Anderson.

9. Julie & Julia

Nora Ephron hasn't made a movie this fresh in 20 years. She wrote 1989's When Harry Met Sally..., but her career as a director has been mixed at best. (Bewitched, anyone?) What makes J&J work is that it's a romantic comedy about two women who fall in love with cooking (and, not secondarily, with food). The men in their lives are supportive, and Stanley Tucci's turn as Julia Child's loving husband, Paul, is a reminder of his prodigious talent. But the movie belongs to the ladies, and they both make a great go of it.

Meryl Streep is the rare performer who consistently elevates everything (and everyone) around her, and Ephron's fun, witty script makes her work easy. As she's done with many other real-life figures, Streep embodies Julia while giving a decidedly original performance. You can watch her work and admire the skill involved while simultaneously believing, on some level, that she is Julia -- and that the Julia Child we see on PBS reruns is some kind of impostor.

Amy Adams is a charming actress, and she portrays J&J's modern-day protagonist, Julie Powell, as a confused, frustrated denizen of the Internet age. Fame and wealth through blogging is our era's American Dream, and Julie realizes it after much trial and error, and not a little marital tension. Adams' instinctive sunniness keeps us loyal to Julie even when she spazzes out, and anyone who can't see a bit of herself in the character may want to look a little harder. Many of the film's fans are half-fans, enamored with Julia's story but bored with, or annoyed by, Julie's. I loved them both.

10. We Live in Public

Ondi Timoner isn’t a technically sophisticated filmmaker, but she has two things many documentarians should envy: tremendous access to the zeitgeist, and a great nose for a good story. Her 2004 documentary DiG! won widespread critical praise for exploring the rivalry between two rock bands many people hadn’t even heard of. Similarly, We Live in Public profiles an Internet guru few netizens knew about. His name is Josh Harris, and his ultra-fascination with pop culture and interactive media began long before YouTube and Facebook came along.

The details of the story -- the Web company he founded, the wacky projects he undertook -- are interesting, but it’s his romance with a kindred spirit named Tanya Corrin that anchors Public emotionally. Like Charles Foster Kane, Harris built himself an empire based on his own eccentric tastes, but he never learned how to maintain human connections. Unlike Kane, Timoner’s subject is still alive and kicking, and there’s always the chance that he’ll come back with something even stranger and more visionary than anything depicted in the film. Yet Public’s key sequences -- the underground bunker that offers zero privacy, the cameras trained on Josh and Tanya’s crumbling relationship -- are haunting enough at a time when Facebook addiction is a growing problem and YouTube has turned many of us into video autobiographers.

Honorable mentions:

Up in the Air -- Like his 2007 film Juno, Jason Reitman's tale of love and business in a down economy has suffered from excessive hype, and the inevitable backlash. That's a shame, because George Clooney and Vera Farmiga both give great performances, the script is smart, and two sequences -- one at a corporate party, the other at a wedding -- really come alive.

District 9 -- Love it or hate it, Neill Blomkamp's sci-fi apartheid parable was one of the year's most talked-about movies. (It even inspired a highly publicized tiff between Roger Ebert and New York Press critic Armond White.) I confess to finding it overrated, but it is unlike most other films, and a few of its quieter moments will stay with me.

Moon -- Speaking of science fiction, who knew David Bowie's son would make such a crackerjack sci-fi director? Moon brought the genre back to its original role as an existential exploration of the human soul. Who needs fancy special effects when Sam Rockwell's around?

Prodigal Sons -- One compelling story is enough to power most documentaries, but first-time filmmaker Kimberly Reed got two for the price of one. She intended to chronicle her experience coming out as transgender at her high school reunion; instead, Sons is about her relationship with her mentally ill brother, Marc, and their discovery that he's related to Orson Welles.

2009 in haiku

2009-12-31T15:24:00.001-08:00

This afternoon, KUOW challenged listeners to summarize their experience of 2009 in haiku form. Here's mine:

A student again;
in life, too, I still require
much education.

Cash on coins

2009-12-29T10:27:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite Marketplace Money stories of the year aired yesterday. It's a report on the state of coin collecting in an increasingly cash-free society, delivered by a correspondent named... wait for it... Cash Peters. Seriously. I've rarely heard such a fast-paced, witty piece on something so potentially dull.

If you like charticles...

2009-12-29T01:48:00.000-08:00

...you'll love what The New York Times has concocted to sum up the '00s. (Click on the image to enlarge it.)

Say nice things about Detroit

2009-12-28T10:46:00.000-08:00

My sister once had a shirt that said: "Detroit: Where the weak are killed and eaten." I've also seen one with a smoking gun on it that declared: "Thanks for visiting Detroit; sorry we missed you." Now, thanks to a Facebook sidebar ad, I've finally found Detroit T-shirts with a positive spin. The Chet Lemon shirt is the best, not only because of its hip, clever pictogram but also because you really do have to be a longtime or lifetime Detroiter to know who Chet Lemon is. (He's a former Tigers outfielder.) I might buy one at some point, if only to mystify Seattle friends and start conversations.

Why?

2009-12-25T01:43:00.000-08:00

No, seriously: Why? I consider this coal in my stocking.

"Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!"

2009-12-25T01:27:00.000-08:00

May your holiday be peaceful and bright.

R.I.P., Eileen

2009-12-23T18:51:00.000-08:00

Earlier today, I found an obituary from February that listed a friend I'd lost touch with: Eileen Mintz, whose passion for food matched her formidable PR skills. I met her through my work as a food writer for Seattle Weekly, but she was more than just a professional acquaintance. Even though we didn't see each other too often, her kindness to me resembled that of a loving aunt, albeit one with better connections and juicier gossip than any actual relative I've ever had. Eileen was a matchmaker, too, and though she never made any money at it, she probably could have.

I interviewed her about her knack for pairing people up for the Weekly's Valentine's Day issue in 2006, and the resulting piece provides a sample of Eileen's offhand wisdom and joie de vivre. After the interview, she drove me to the house of Emily Cunningham, whom I'd just started dating. That very night, Emily and I began a relationship that would last two and a half years. Coincidence? Doubtful. Befriending a matchmaker gives you an unfair advantage in matters romantic; I highly recommend it.

Wherever you are, Eileen, I hope you're eating well and helping people date better. I'm really sorry I missed your memorial service.

Letting go of Christmas

2009-12-23T18:44:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm the child of two Jewish parents, I grew up celebrating Christmas. My father's first wife wasn't Jewish, so they raised their three children with both Jewish and Christian holidays. When my mom and dad met, he wasn't willing to give up Christmas, so I was raised with it, too. I believed in Santa and could hardly get to sleep on Christmas Eve, the night our family traditionally sang carols with two other families -- one Jew-ish, one non-Jewish. Our house was adorned with a fully decorated Christmas tree, stockings by the chimney, and angel chimes, and I left cookies and milk for St. Nick even after I was pretty sure he didn't exist. (They were usually sugar-free cookies, since my father was diabetic.) I didn't know of too many other Jewish families who celebrated Christmas, but our Reconstructionist congregation was offbeat enough that I doubt it caused a scandal when certain members found out that we did. When I was young, Christmas was to me what it is to countless other kids: the most magical day of the year.

I mention all of this because, like Jew-ish.com editor Leyna Krow, I find Jewish anti-Christmas sentiment tiresome at best. Yes, we're a group that's been oppressed for millennia, and yes, Christians have often been our oppressors, but whinging about the ubiquity of Christmas is like traveling to Hawaii and complaining about the heat. We live in a country that's religiously neutral on a political level but extremely Christian on a cultural level, and it's likely always to be that way. Leyna's comment that saying "Actually, I'm Jewish" when someone wishes you a merry Christmas only makes things more awkward is true, and though some Jewish activists may interpret identity politics as a way to make non-Jews feel awkward, I don't find this constructive. Pride in one's own heritage, practices, and beliefs always outshines insecurity, and many Jewish people's reactions to Christmas smack of the latter. Maybe some Jews hate Christmas because they envied their non-Jewish peers when they were little, and what they really hate is having been in such an uncomfortable position all those years. I occasionally try to shock Jews I know by telling them that I go to St. Mark's every Christmas Eve for services, and I guess that's a reactionary response to reactionary anti-Christmas grouchiness.

That said, I find myself drifting away from most of my personal Christmas customs. This is the second year in a row that I haven't bought a tree, nominally because of the cost but actually because I live at the Ravenna Kibbutz, where displaying a Christmas tree in the living room would be too much even for a liberal Jewish community to handle. Having a small tree in my room might have been nice, but I prefer a larger tree in a more public space, so halfway through December I decided to let it go. I've watched It's a Wonderful Life at the Grand Illusion every Christmastime since 2002, but I may not go this year. I know the movie practically by heart, and seeing it for the ninth time doesn't really appeal to me (though I'm still awfully fond of it). I went to a caroling party a week ago, but I barely knew anyone there, and I focused more on the food than the singing. When I observe Christmas in Seattle, even in a limited way, I'm doing so mostly to honor my father's memory. He believed that winter holidays were about warmth, light, and common humanity, and he didn't see why Jews couldn't enjoy two instead of just one. (As an adult, I've added Solstice to the lineup, too.)

My Christmas customs also have a tinge of desperation about them, because I'm still grasping at a golden past -- the near-perfection of childhood Christmas -- that I can't return to. In much the same way that New Year's Eve almost always feels anticlimactic to me, Christmas has become a source of muted sadness. I want to feel connected to my father, and to the magical feeling of Christmases past, yet both of these things remain beyond my reach. Finding a vibrant Jewish community has helped me expect less from Christmas -- any kind of social support makes the winter holidays less melancholy -- but I may never get excited about Latkepalooza and other Jewish Christmas events. To me, they seem transparently like distractions, attempts to stay entertained during a day that has negative, even hurtful connotations for many Jews.

Of course, that's precisely what these events are, and there's nothing wrong with that, even if I sometimes feel that their organizers and participants doth protest too much. I don't get jazzed about The Hebrew Hammer screenings and Chinese food feasts on Christmas because I don't want to be distracted -- I want to carry my father's idiosyncratic love and observance of Christmas into the future. Whether or not to raise my own children with Christmas, especially if I marry Jewish, may prove to be a thorny question, but there's no need to resolve it yet. I was heartened to learn recently that an outspoken Jewish activist I know, someone whose personal philosophy is steeped in identity politics, plans to be at St. Mark's tomorrow night as well. A comment she made implied that she's half-Jewish, and that she goes to church on Christmas Eve to honor the non-Jewish part of her heritage.

Since I'll be writing an article soon for Jew-ish.com on the subject of half-Jewish identity, I was both intrigued and comforted to hear that she, too, would be attending midnight mass. Christmas Eve services may hit more of a nerve than other Jewish cultural and spiritual dabblings -- in Buddhism, say, or Eastern medicine -- but sitting in a pew on Dec. 24 doesn't have to be more sinister than going to meditation class. I visit St. Mark's for what my friend Sarah calls the "smells and bells" -- the beautiful pageantry, the breathtaking music, and the sense of universal goodwill. Though I'm not sure how I'll mark Christmas as the years pass, I agree with my father that any ceremony or gathering that helps dispel the winter blues -- especially in Seattle -- isn't likely to do any harm.

Good news re: health-care bill

2009-12-20T23:36:00.001-08:00

Is Obama perfect? No. Have even his fans been disappointed in certain aspects of his presidency? Sure. Is the health-care bill's progress in the Senate exciting? You damn betcha.

Pop culture in the '00s

2009-12-20T12:10:00.000-08:00

New York magazine has put together a wonderful four-page summary of our nearly finished decade's most memorable moments in film, TV, music, theater, etc. And check out those awesome Photoshopped collages! We've come a long way from Freaks and Geeks to New Moon, kids. (Hat tip to Steven for the link.)

R.I.P., Brittany

2009-12-20T11:50:00.000-08:00

Such strange, sad news. We may have been used to the skinny, glamorous Brittany, but I still fondly remember the lovably normal-shaped Brittany from Clueless. And there's no forgetting her damaged, chicken-hiding character in Girl, Interrupted. May she rest in peace.

Golden Globe predictions (and wishes)

2009-12-19T01:33:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again! In each category, I've bolded the nominee I think will win and italicized the one I think should win. (If I haven't bolded or italicized anything, it means I don't know enough to predict or prefer.)

BEST PICTURE -- DRAMA

Avatar
The Hurt Locker
Inglourious Basterds
Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire
Up In The Air

BEST ACTRESS -- DRAMA

Emily Blunt – The Young Victoria
Sandra Bullock – The Blind Side
Helen Mirren – The Last Station
Carey Mulligan – An Education
Gabourey Sidibe – Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire

BEST ACTOR -- DRAMA

Jeff Bridges – Crazy Heart
George Clooney – Up In The Air
Colin Firth – A Single Man
Morgan Freeman – Invictus
Tobey Maguire – Brothers

BEST PICTURE -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

(500) Days Of Summer
The Hangover
It's Complicated
Julie & Julia
Nine

BEST ACTRESS -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

Sandra Bullock – The Proposal
Marion Cotillard – Nine
Julia Roberts – Duplicity
Meryl Streep – It's Complicated
Meryl Streep – Julie & Julia

BEST ACTOR -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

Matt Damon – The Informant!
Daniel Day-Lewis – Nine
Robert Downey Jr. – Sherlock Holmes
Joseph Gordon-Levitt – (500) Days Of Summer
Michael Stuhlbarg – A Serious Man

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Penélope Cruz – Nine
Vera Farmiga – Up In The Air
Anna Kendrick – Up In The Air
Mo'nique – Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire
Julianne Moore – A Single Man

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Matt Damon – Invictus
Woody Harrelson – The Messenger
Christopher Plummer – The Last Station
Stanley Tucci – The Lovely Bones
Christoph Waltz – Inglourious Basterds

BEST ANIMATED FILM

Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs
Coraline
Fantastic Mr. Fox
The Princess And The Frog
Up

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

Baaria (Italy)
Broken Embraces (Spain)
The Maid (La Nana) (Chile)
A Prophet (Un Prophete) (France)
The White Ribbon (Germany)

BEST DIRECTOR

Kathryn Bigelow – The Hurt Locker
James Cameron – Avatar
Clint Eastwood – Invictus
Jason Reitman – Up In The Air
Quentin Tarantino – Inglourious Basterds

BEST SCREENPLAY

Neill Blomkamp, Terri Tatchell - District 9
Mark Boal - The Hurt Locker
Quentin Tarantino - Inglourious Basterds
Nancy Meyers - It's Complicated
Jason Reitman, Sheldon Turner - Up In The Air

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE

Michael Giacchino - Up
Marvin Hamlisch - The Informant!
James Horner - Avatar
Abel Korzeniowski - A Single Man
Karen O and Carter Burwell - Where The Wild Things Are

BEST ORIGINAL SONG

"Cinema Italiano" – Nine
"I See You" – Avatar
"I Want To Come Home" – Everybody's Fine
"The Weary Kind (Theme From Crazy Heart)" – Crazy Heart
"Winter" – Brothers

BEST TV SERIES -- DRAMA

Big Love (HBO)
Dexter (SHOWTIME)
House (FOX)
Mad Men (AMC)
True Blood (HBO)

BEST ACTRESS, TV SERIES -- DRAMA

Glenn Close – Damages (FX NETWORK)
January Jones – Mad Men (AMC)
Julianna Margulies – The Good Wife (CBS)
Anna Paquin – True Blood (HBO)
Kyra Sedgwick – The Closer (TNT)

BEST ACTOR, TV SERIES -- DRAMA

Simon Baker – The Mentalist (CBS)
Michael C. Hall – Dexter (SHOWTIME)
Jon Hamm – Mad Men (AMC)
Hugh Laurie – House (FOX)
Bill Paxton – Big Love (HBO)

BEST TV SERIES -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

30 Rock (NBC)
Entourage (HBO)
Glee (FOX)
Modern Family (ABC)
The Office (NBC)

BEST ACTRESS, TV SERIES -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

Toni Collette – United States Of Tara (SHOWTIME)
Courteney Cox – Cougar Town (ABC)
Edie Falco – Nurse Jackie (SHOWTIME)
Tina Fey – 30 Rock (NBC)
Lea Michele – Glee (FOX)

BEST ACTOR, TV SERIES -- MUSICAL OR COMEDY

Alec Baldwin – 30 Rock (NBC)
Steve Carell – The Office (NBC)
David Duchovny – Californication (SHOWTIME)
Thomas Jane – Hung (HBO)
Matthew Morrison – Glee (FOX)

BEST MINISERIES OR TV MOVIE

Georgia O'Keeffe (LIFETIME)
Grey Gardens (HBO)
Into The Storm (HBO)
Little Dorrit (PBS)
Taking Chance (HBO)

BEST ACTRESS, MINISERIES OR TV MOVIE

Joan Allen – Georgia O'Keeffe (LIFETIME)
Drew Barrymore – Grey Gardens (HBO)
Jessica Lange – Grey Gardens (HBO)
Anna Paquin – The Courageous Heart Of Irena (CBS)
Sigourney Weaver – Prayers For Bobby (LIFETIME)

BEST ACTOR, MINISERIES OR TV MOVIE

Kevin Bacon – Taking Chance (HBO)
Kenneth Branagh – Wallander: One Step Behind (PBS)
Chiwetel Ejiofor – Endgame (PBS)
Brendan Gleeson – Into The Storm (HBO)
Jeremy Irons – Georgia O'Keeffe (LIFETIME)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS, TV SERIES/MINISERIES/TV MOVIE

Jane Adams – Hung (HBO)
Rose Byrne – Damages (FX NETWORK)
Jane Lynch – Glee (FOX)
Janet McTeer – Into The Storm (HBO)
Chloe Sevigny – Big Love (HBO)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR, TV SERIES/MINISERIES/TV MOVIE

Michael Emerson – Lost (ABC)
Neil Patrick Harris – How I Met Your Mother (CBS)
William Hurt – Damages (FX NETWORK)
John Lithgow – Dexter (SHOWTIME)
Jeremy Piven – Entourage (HBO)

Welcome to the 21st century, Michigan!

2009-12-18T11:24:00.001-08:00

It's nice and cozy here, and smoke-free.

Oberlin, day by day

2009-12-17T17:03:00.001-08:00

The admissions office at Oberlin College, my alma mater, has put together one of its most impressive recruitment tools to date: an online "poster" made of gorgeous photos taken on or around the campus by an OC student. Click around and you get an aptly scattershot sense of what the college is like. Makes me want to hop in my car and road-trip it back. I'll be flying back at the end of May for my second cluster reunion, so probably best to skip the cross-country drive. With enough other Obies in the car, though, I bet it'd be a ton of fun.

Winter blues

2009-12-14T23:35:00.000-08:00

I've been feeling blue for at least a couple of weeks now, and though I know progress isn't an upward slant but an upward-slanting sine wave, periods like this can be hard to ride out. I've got my wonderful community, of course, and my involvement with it still brings me joy on a pretty regular basis. But I feel stuck with regard to work -- no NWsource.com projects on the horizon, very few phone screens since I turned down two job offers a couple months ago -- and uncertain about my current academic path, such as it is. When people ask me what I'm studying, I'm more weary of repeating myself than excited to tell them.

I've considered the possibility that the antidepressant I'm on is contributing to my general sense of emotional flatness, but I wonder if I suspect the Lexapro because I've heard other people say that SSRIs can cause emotional flatness. The power of suggestion works both ways; it can make you feel like your meds are helping you, or it can make you wonder whether they're hurting you. I imagine the increasingly gray Seattle skies, my singleness, my overweight, the overeating that's sustaining that overweight, and the lack of exercise in my life are all contributing factors to this year's early-onset S.A.D. Last year at this time, the Kibbutz was still something new in my life, and New Year's Eve brought the beginning of a relationship that lasted longer, and became more emotionally significant, than I expected. This year, the Kibbutz is still meaningful but not nearly as novel, and I don't feel particularly confident about presenting myself to the world, whether in a dating context or just socially.

I think my #1 problem right now is sagging self-esteem due to physical inactivity. When I danced at the Moishe House Chanukah party the other night, it only took about 10 minutes, if that, to utterly exhaust me. I was practically wheezing, and I felt a desperate need to lie down. There have been times in my life -- my bar mitzvah, the year 2004 -- when I was so out of shape that I couldn't dance for very long. Here I am again, in the middle of one, only this time it happens to coincide with a unit on fitness in my nutrition class. Looking at all the toned models in the book's supposedly helpful pictures, I felt that the distance between where I am and where I want to be is vast. Even moderate fitness feels unattainable.

My main goal for 2010 is to make exercise a regular part of my life. I want to do on the fitness front what I did this year, with the help of my wonderful life coach, in the area of money management. Thanks to our work, I make a budget at the beginning of each month and am much more conscious of how and why I spend money the way I do. Prediction: If I can make the sort of progress with exercise in 2010 that I did with money in 2009, I'll be much happier by 2011.

Snapshots from the past

2009-12-12T02:13:00.000-08:00

I scanned some more old photos today to make a Facebook album. The older I get, the more gratifying it is to share these images with people I know, and simply to look at them and marvel at how far I've come, and how much has changed. Check out the rest of the pictures here.

Sen. Orrin Hatch thinks we're the Chosen People

2009-12-09T13:28:00.000-08:00

He seems like a sweet man. I hope the Kibbutz gives his new Hanukkah song a whirl this month. So what if his affection for us verges on the apocalyptic-creepy? Said the senator to The New York Times:

“Anything I can do for the Jewish people, I will do,” Mr. Hatch said in an interview before heading to the Senate floor to debate an abortion amendment. “Mormons believe the Jewish people are the chosen people, just like the Old Testament says.”

Also:

At one point, Mr. Hatch unbuttons his white dress shirt to expose the golden mezuzah necklace he wears every day. Mezuzahs also adorn the doorways of his homes in Washington and Utah. Mr. Hatch keeps a Torah in his Senate office.

“Not a real Torah, but sort of a mock Torah,” he said. “I feel sorry I’m not Jewish sometimes.”

We may be Chosen, but who knew we'd get this lucky? We now have Mormons writing us music free of charge. It's a beautiful world we live in, people. Check it out:

The song that's currently stuck in my head

2009-12-08T16:13:00.000-08:00

It's from the Argentine movie The Paranoids.

"Inglourious Basterds"

2009-12-05T23:06:00.000-08:00

When I was 13, my parents took me to see The Power of One, which deals with the injustices of apartheid. I remember that at one point the main character committed some act of righteous violence against the Bad Guys, and I yelped with glee. I may have even stood up, I was so excited. My pacifist parents -- who raised me without war toys, war games, or corporal punishment of any kind -- were taken aback. I felt sheepish afterwards, but in that visceral moment, who wouldn't cheer for the hero as he brought the hammer down on the despicable villains?

I saw Inglourious Basterds tonight, finally, and it brought up similar feelings. If you haven't been living in a hole, you know that Quentin Tarantino's World War II revenge saga-as-Peckinpah Western is about an elite band of Jewish-American soldiers bent on killing (and scalping!) as many Nazis as possible in occupied France. (Be aware: Spoilers follow.) As their fearless leader, Brad Pitt is all kinds of fun; in the role of a strong, Jewish heroine (reminiscent of the Bride character from Kill Bill), Mélanie Laurent gives the film a lot of heart. It isn't, as some critics claim, an empty stylistic exercise. Not by a long shot.

According to my mother, her shul's rabbi encouraged the members to see Basterds because it tackles the subject of Jewish vengeance. While I wouldn't ask everyone I know to stomach Tarantino's graphic violence, I agree that the movie touches on some meaty issues. And where the similarly themed Munich was self-important and casually misogynistic, Basterds offers a good time at the movies and a kick-ass female protagonist. Tarantino even points up the antirealism of old WWII movies, in which everyone magically spoke English, by subtitling more than half the dialogue. (The film is in English, German, and French, with a little Italian tossed in for good measure.)

Spielberg and QT may be equally unsubtle filmmakers, but Tarantino's still got something Spielberg hasn't had since Jaws: the ability to serve up dark, energetic entertainment without worrying all too much about making The Big Point. Keep the slow-mo sex 'n' death mashup near the end of Munich and give me the final swastika-carving scene from Basterds. There's putting too fine a point on your movie, and then there's using the point at the end of your knife. I prefer the latter.

Tarantino builds the story in chapters, and yes, the movie is two and a half hours long, and yes, sections of it are talky, but many scenes crackle with real suspense, the entire film is absolutely gorgeous to look at, and no character is safe from harm. (That's been a Tarantino hallmark since Pulp Fiction, and I've always appreciated it. The fact that anyone could die packs a lot of emotional power.) Laurent's Shosanna Dreyfus communicates a great deal with her eyes, and by film's end I'd grown surprisingly attached to her.

Tarantino is known for outrageous violence and obscure movie references, but he actually uses violence very carefully, and his references don't crowd out the immediate drama of each scene. What happens to Shosanna's family is depicted both brutally and bloodlessly; a lesser director would have chosen one path over the other, but Tarantino has the insight and skill to combine them to devastating effect. (The Coens made similar decisions in No Country for Old Men.) As for QT's love of movies, he expresses it more touchingly than ever. During the stunning sequence in which Shosanna dons makeup and a red dress, the shots he gets are sweet tributes to feminine beauty and power in cinema.

Though Christoph Waltz's portrayal of notorious Nazi officer Hans Landa gets hammy towards the end, it's nothing he hasn't prepared us for. From the haunting first scene until Landa meets his supremely apt fate, Waltz lives up to his surname, dancing us in and out of the villain's evil aura. He comes off as smarter than the Nazi high command, whom Tarantino depicts as feeble-minded, violence-crazed man-children. Yet he isn't smart enough to elude his karma, which strikes him as soundly as it does Hitler, Goebbels, and the rest.

Some critics have suggested that Tarantino trivializes the horrors of the Third Reich by using the era as a backdrop for a bloody revenge tale. Yet there have been plenty of uprising films -- last year's Defiance, for example -- that won plaudits for telling true stories of Jewish resistance. Tarantino frames Basterds as fairy tale, fable, wish-fulfillment fantasy, and alternate history, but its climactic scene in a Paris movie theater works beautifully enough as simple catharsis.

We can't revive the loved ones we lost to the Nazis; we can't undo the infinite damage wreaked by the Holocaust. But we can take a trip into our darker dreams of vengeance and behold the splendid, horrifying sight of a building full of Nazis exploding into the Parisian night. That scene is astonishing cinema, balletic and relentless and in tune with the subconscious desire of countless Jews still furious about what happened to their people -- our people

There's a moment in which Eli Roth's character, nicknamed the Bear Jew, keeps gunning at Hitler even though the Führer is clearly dead. Out of context, it sounds juvenile and obvious, but after nearly 150 minutes of emotional buildup, it feels good -- it's a welcome release. Maybe that's fucked up, maybe not. Either way, it's worth talking and thinking about, and to me, that makes Basterds a strong piece of work.

Comment of the week

2009-12-05T18:41:00.000-08:00

This one comes from Diana, a college friend with a lovely blog of her own, in reference to my tell-all post about the nutritional intricacies of my diet:

Any way I can get my hands on that program? I'm one of those people that convinces myself that everything is just fine... until confronted with hard evidence. We eat more than half our meals vegetarian now, but we still need less cheese/pasta and more actual vegetables. Email me if you have a copy or something.

There's nothing like gardening to make you eat more veggies; I say GO for it. There's no WAY you're going to let that home-grown stuff go to waste: it becomes precious. We ate tomato-pepper-basil salads almost 3x per week this last summer, and just knowing how much work went into it made it seem delicious every time. I'm very sad that we won't have a garden next year (because of the shade issue) or perhaps even the next (since we can't afford to get the land cleared and I'm afraid of chainsaws).