Light and Darkness

Bug

Talk about severe paranoia. This movie based upon the play of the same name is nuts. I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy it because I did.....but wow.

A commentary on how we lose ourselves whenever we have a dysfunctional attraction to another person? A look at the irrational yet highly addicting phenomena of conspiracy theorists? Another film exploring the depths of what scares us? All a resounding yes.

My friend Edwin and I had a conversation once during rehearsal of the play Arsenic and Old Lace. If you take away the sets, the props, and the costumes, could you still give the audience an effective performance? Well, this film to me is an ode to this sentiment. Bug's lack of multiple sets works for the film and is definitely a salute to its genesis as a play. The setting enhances the meat of this film which is the actors' and their dialogue.

As the audience, you sit stunned at what the two main characters become as the film develops. Hints of their irrationality are there from the very beginning but as the story evolves, you are just swept up at just how crazy it all becomes.

Michael Shannon resurrects the role of Peter Evans, which he performed on stage. Shannon is the consummate character actor. He moves from the intimidated quiet one to the enraged psychotic quickly and effortlessly. The role fits him like the proverbial glove; and had I not known that he played the role before, I would have thought the same. Ashley Judd's Agnes was unattractive and sympathetic. She is a broken woman with no initiative to change her circumstance, which is evident more so when she meets Peter. I wanted both characters to succeed but obvious from the start that success is a relative word.

It's an intense film that had me shaking my head, gathering my dropped jaw, and saying "What the fuck?!"

Job Insecurity

The last couple of days have been absolute hell at work. Without detail or explanation, I say that I feel unhappy about work. What the hell? I am left with questions.

Should I find another job?
Do any of the people I work with respect me at all?
Do I have any chance of advancement now?
Why do people take such liberty with what you say?

Why the fuck did I say what I said? I should have trusted my instinct and not trust anyone with my thoughts and beliefs. I really can't blame anyone but myself with what is now happening. I am a firm believer in accepting responsibility for one's own actions and words or lack thereof, so speaking aloud any opinion to co-workers is ultimately my own undoing.

No, I don't hate anyone. I'm not mad. I'm upset. Quite different for me. Being mad or angry with someone sparks retaliatory thoughts in my head. I have none of that. My thoughts are ones of self-abuse and silence and distrust. I want to only work and have nothing but a working relationship with the lot of them.  I am shutting down as both self-defense and for the benefit of others.

In my younger days, I reacted with vigor. I spoke aloud. I fought back. I got angry and then angrier. I thought that was what I supposed to do. Speak out and speak up. Now? Now, I withdraw. I remove my involvement.

Fighting got me no where except me covered in welts or feeling unwanted amongst all that I felt were my familiars. I learned that fighting for myself only separated me from everything that I loved. Never made me feel any better. It doesn't now. I try to fight for what I love and I get pushed further away or I get silence from the other side. I don't fight anymore. I just cork up as much emotion and thought I can within my body....hey, maybe this is why I'm getting fatter and fatter. Making a bigger space for what I'm bottling up? A thought.

I'm trying to ignore all the problems now. Only safe way to survive any suicidal or maligned thoughts. Better to be a robot functioning day to day then to scare the people with what makes me Naomi.

Eh! I hate life.

Sideshow Freak: The Fat Lady

So, I happened on to photos from the last Glass Eye. Slide show created by one of the attendants. And I am cow. Seriously, watching it makes me want to fucking kill myself. I am so embarrassed.

POTC 3

We screened the third installment of the Pirates adventures. Yes, it was good. No, Keith Richards' Captain Teague is not worth the all the hype brought on by the months and months of publicity. Yes, everyone is still yummy and beautiful as they have been in the past. No, I'm not going to give any spoilers away because there are those people that absolutely hate that. Yes, I'll stop with this stupid method because it's annoying me as well.

All of those that watched it said it is worth it. Understand that this movie is three hours long. I'm left with some unresolved things which I hate in a movie; and not in that "oh, that can be left in the fourth film of this series" type of unfinished business. I guess how the story goes with Davey Jones went the way it did intentionally but eh, not done. To me the entire series is a predictable yet fun ride....let us not forget that millions of dollars have been earned based upon a mediocre ride at Disney World so plot development and character building are for really superfluous.

I think with each movie after the original, Johnny Depp's Sparrow is just icing on the cake. His screen time seems to shorten with the sequels although billed as extremely important. Had anyone noticed this in the second film? The other characters' story lines and development have become much more prevalent. Intentional? Perhaps. This latest (wouldn't say last) film has Sparrow's appearances as garnish. He emphasizes points. Sparrow is integral but the lack of Depp-time proves a murderer can be found guilty without the presence of a body.

It is still a fun movie that WILL do very well in the theaters. And again, I will not be surprised with another sequel in a couple of years.

I may have more to say once the movie has been out this weekend. Eh, probably not. Just enjoy!

Australia: An Island of Naomis

A brief thought here and then I'll be done:

Know how countries have national colors and birds and all that rot? Is Australia's national name "Naomi?" Seriously. According to my sitemeter, Australians stop by here because of one search. "Naomi needs." And there's not just on Aussie doing it either. They're coming from every bit of that continent on the other side of the world, Adelaide, Perth, Dingley, Port Willunga, etc etc etc.

Perhaps Australia is Naomi purgatory. When I die, I'll be sent there to reconcile my sins.

Imagine if you will, my reading this in that sexy, smoky, Jessica Rabbit voice

My voice is just about gone. I nearly suffocated last night closing up the theater because I couldn't breathe properly. I had to extend my neck and look up in order to get any air into the damn lungs. Yeah, ET popped into my head too. Don't be ashamed of the third grade humor. Embrace.

Think I might be sick?

I should go to the doctor but I don't think it's strep. I'm pretty good at diagnosing these things so I'm not wasting the money (which I don't have) and I"ll just suffer through. It's all good....except when I yawn. Damn! That cataclysmic surge of air into my throat has me coughing and gagging like a whore servicing a naval ship crew on Fleet Week in New York. That and the pain from opening my mouth wide....ok, I think the picture is in your head now.

Did you know the internet is a wonderful place? I had a friend from high school find me (Hi, Nicola) and we had a great chat yesterday. Memories. Ahhhhh, fabulous. May I mention that I was not always a good girl before the age of twenty-one? My daughter asked about the times we had together; and being a frank and honest person, I told her. In response? She asks me, "Which would you rather I do: smoke pot or drink under age?"

"Or"

"Smoke pot or drink under age?"

"Or, I said."

"What?!"

"You asked me to choose which one I would rather you try. Smoke pot. Or. Drink under age. I choose 'or' out of the three options."

*silence and look of disgust*

That's the thing, folks. No matter how you raise your child, he or she will do what they want as they age.  My pop raised me with the fear of death. I breathed wrong, I was killed and raised from the dead just so I can be punished once more. Yet, I drank underage and smoked pot. My father was well aware of my partying. If I left the house, I would tell him I was going to a party.

"Are you going to be drinking?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you going to be driving?"

"No, sir. I'm staying the night."

"Ok. Call me if you get arrested. I'm not getting you out of jail but I want to know you're safe."

"Yes, sir."

I knew had I been arrested...and there was that one time that we almost did....my father would have skinned me alive and hung it on the wall like big African game, telling the story to guests that came to the house.

"This is the rare mestiza, Naomi. She was a healthy 18 years old when I caught her. She didn't see me coming because she was not as lucid at the time. Drunk, really. I know. I know. Not fair to get them when they're defenseless but that's the hunt." All said of course in that pompous 1800s, pith helmet-wearing, moo-stash growing, monacle clad, British accent sort of way.

I just didn't do it THAT much. For fear of lack of life. I hope telling Em the dangers and repercussions of the bad decisions will give her an idea of what to do when presented with the dilemmas. Repercussions including my having to skin her alive and hang her tautly above the bookshelf. I don't know. Em's a good kid. She'll do what's generally right.

Going back to Nicola and finding me. Am I the only one who can't find Jack on the internet? Ok, my name is probably as similar to finding a freaking polar bear on a deserted tropical island. When it happens, it's on a make-believe island with forty-something survivors of an airplane disaster....on TELEVISION. If you're looking for me, you're going to find me. Period.

But when I tried finding an old boyfriend: Fred......Johnson. Out of fucking luck. Or female friends from my younger years. Kristin....what's her married name? Oh, I don't know. Laura....what's her married name? Oh, I don't know. Do I really need to go on? Eh. If I need to be found, I'll be found. I'm just saying.

Any of my three names are unusual in themselves but you'll find a pod of people with them; but put the three together in any combination and you've got this person right here.------------------------>

By the way.....so glad to have Nicola back in my life.

Curse of the Irish Filipina

My sister and her boys came into town this past weekend. It was great spending time with them. We went to the beach on Friday and Saturday; and as a result, I am sunburned. It really isn't a surprise. I always burn since I've inherited the white genetics of the Days. It will eventually turn into a rosy color instead of boiled-lobster red.

Great thing occurred this weekend. On Friday, we saw two dolphins swimming close to shore before we left. It was fantastic since just this week I mentioned to an employee that I had never seen a dolphin in the wild. Then on Saturday we see two dolphins again playing near the shoreline. I'm going to assume they were the same from the previous day since we were in the same location on the beach. Just a smiling moment, you know?

The visit to the beach was very much needed. I forget how much water affects me until my spirits are lifted after sit-down beside a body of water. And the water was amazing beautiful as usual for this part of Florida. If anyone is interested in sharing in the beauty, let me know.

Days like recent and scenes like this one really make a girl reconsider why she doesn't care too much for Pensacola. Seriously, if there was more to this city than what I've encountered...hauling my ass back to the north would be a much more difficult decision. Perhaps another part of Florida instead?

I think the weekend did leave me a little sick though. I woke Sunday with my throat swollen shut and an 'eh' feeling for the rest of the day. No doubt, a little too much sun. Throat is still bothering me though. Who knows? Maybe the extreme saltiness of the Gulf waters has something to do with the irritation. (side note here: It's great to see that the ocean felt so natural and clean. It's just disturbing when water is mucked up by humans.)

Well, I need to go to bed and the clawing of the Jolie on the back door reminding me that she needs in is a good reason to part for the moment. Until.....

Eight Things to Share

The Reverend tagged me with this meme. I'm going with listing eight things I'd like to begin in the next six months because currently my life is slow...ie, I'm boring.

1. Promotion - I've been working for one with my company. Though I have a lot more to learn, I think I'm making a mark. I hope so and I would like to finally get that promotion (which leads to others).

2. Move - With promotion comes relocation. No definitive location right now. Have to wait for postings but we're hoping to move somewhere up north.

3. School - I want to finish college. I have so many credits yet no degree. I'm back in a position that I may be able to go back to school. I'm thinking of majoring in English with a concentration in creative writing. Also seriously thinking of photography.

4. A digital SLR -  I'm going to get myself a badass one too.  Birthday and Christmas are still in the future so a generous gift would be graciously accepted. I'm trying to save up as well; and if all else fails, there's income tax season next year.

5. Publication - I'm wanting to enter some writing contests or seek publication. Perhaps even look into freelance work. I'm told my writing is gooood. I'd like to prove that to myself.

6. Start a novel - No, not the same as above. I write short pieces and lots of poetry. I want to write something bigger.

7. Go on vacation - A real vacation where you go out of town and stay at a hotel or someplace that isn't a family member's address. Do you know that I've only done that once in my life? Once. Five years ago for my daughter's seventh birthday. We went to Disney World. How does one have wanderlust yet never goes anywhere? I have a traveler's spirit but a vagrant's pocketbook.

8. Date - This is the hardest thing out of all this. It means I have to actually feel like something more than a leper. Eh...giving me hives as I think about it.

Ok....For those I have to tag. I'm posting this here and on MySpace and so to include everyone, I pick:

1. Carrie
2. Betts
3. Blazing Jezebel
4. No Milk Please
5. Uncle Tom
6. Beckers
7. Mundane Egg
8. Photogirl

I guess you can go any way: eight new things in your life that has happened, will happen, plan to happen, or such. And for others, visit there sites. Just click on a name and zoom off to new and wonderful places.

Heart on Sleeve

Ever just want to run away because you can't fight anymore?

Work

I love neon signs so working where I do is always a delight when I have to walk into the building.

Dead at 73

Guess who gets to find out what God REALLY thinks?

Bet you $5, he's hoping that he was right all these years.

No Rest for the Wicked

I can't say that I'm truly wicked but I'm no angel.

Insomnia. Been a hard and fast rule for me lately. I'm exhausted beyond repair. Tired. Can quickly fall asleep at any moment but still suffering insomnia.

I woke from sleep this past weekend crying hysterically. From my dreams, I recall a dreadful fire. Two dogs injured, specifically remember the front paws of one of them were completely gone. I remember waking from it thinking of my dad also thinking of my grandparents. Sense of loss. Also have dreamed of Angus. Was a very nice dream. We reconciled. Nice, right? Again, active dreamscapes. Sleep has not been refreshing. Eh, no change.

The Glass Eye was on Friday. As usual, loved it. I have lost some poems I had written over the last month so I had to write three pieces that night while I was waiting to read. I reread a bit of my erotica too. God, I love going to Glass Eye. Do you know I have fans? What a freaking great feeling that is to have fans! It encourages me to write more. May post the pieces in an entry. I get a lit fearful about putting my work online though. I am an amateur but I still worry that someone will steal my work.

I really want a digital SLR. I am going to try and save up for a very nice one. A portion of next year's income tax check will go to the purchase of one if I haven't bought one by then. Perhaps I can persuade Santa Claus to bring one for Christmas or a nice birthday elf in November....are there any birthday elves out there any more?

Tomorrow (today, rather) is a day off. May head to the theater and watch a couple of films. Most recent films I've seen: 28 Weeks Later and Spider-Man 3. Out of the two, I recommend 28 Weeks Later more. Spidey was sappy. CGI was excellent but the story line was gooshy. As Disco, one of my favorites, has said, "I just wanted to let you all know. I grew a vagina after I saw that piece of shit." Ok, it wasn't that bad but for loyal comic book fans, you will have some issues with what they've done with the genesis of Spider-Man. Seriously though, most comic book films muck up the stories. Creative license, what can you do.

Moving on....I am getting rid of two cats this week. Tried adopting them out but that failed. Just need to find them homes before I seriously consider the moving thing. Do it now before it becomes more difficult.

And lastly, I seriously need a sexual partner. Sigh.....I am still mournfully celibate. This is the first time I've admitted this aloud but Angus and I had a long-distance relationship, if it wasn't painfully obvious to you. So, I have not had sexual intercourse with a man in nearly eleven years. I think my body, namely my vagina thinks sex is only comprised of the buzz of a vibrator and nothing else. Such a sorry state to be in for a crazed loon like me. Eh!

The Woody Allen

This photo was much too bright as a colored image. Thanks to a little PhotoShop and a daughter's opinion, we have a more artistically graphic photo.

Find Lisa Stebic

Lisa Stebic is missing from Plainfield, Illinois. Please pass pictures of her around to eveyone you know via email, website, MySpace, etc. Anything and everything. Someone out there knows something. Hopefully as a community we can help her family Find Lisa Stebic.

Littlest Things by Lily Allen

I admit: I am a YouTube addict. I have found so much crap on it to entertain me for years and years. Old videos (found Fish Heads by Barnes & Barnes), talking cats, and the like. When I started the category Emotional Clef, I was looking to just publish songs without the music. Present them as poetry representing how I felt at the moment. If you hadn't realized what this category was about, go back and look at the postings. When all else fails, sometimes other people's words can best describe your state of being.

I haven't felt like expressing myself in quite a while. There is nothing anyone can do until I get over some things. I feel like an idiot for not being in a better state of mind since I lost Angus and my dad. It's been a year and I should be further along in the grieving process. I think I am with my pop but there are times. With Angus? How do you get over losing someone you really believe is your soulmate? I love easily. It happens. But when I really love? Only twice in my life. And neither man are out of my system.

So...I give you Lily Allen. Of course, not all the same but the sentiment is there. And thanks to my daughter for introducing her.

Hurricane Season's Early Start

We have a couple weeks before the hurricane season starts here on the east coast of the United States. It officially begins June first, but Mother Nature says "Timetable? FUCK YOU! My cycle doesn't need no stinking timetable!" Yeah, that's what I think Mother Nature says, and she does it in Mexicano (pronounce it right, people) sort of voice too. She has a storm brewing off the Atlantic Coast: Subtropical Storm Andrea. (I have a cousin named Andrea and in her youth she was a bit of a subtropical storm. Nothing big but she wasn't an angelic little summer mist either. By the way, I want a storm named after me. A Hurricane 5. "Folks, we like to call this scary little number Hurricane Naomi." Who do we contact for hurricane name suggestions?)

I have to admit something. I'm a fool for saying it but I've always been this way. I love hurricane season. It scares my kid but I love storms. Thunderstorms, ice storms, snow storms, all that inclement weather stuff. I'm a fan of those survival movies whether it be a post-apocalyptic Children of Men sort of thing or the natural disaster The Day After Tomorrow or the harrowing escape with your life Poseidon crappers. I love them because my brain tells me that when everyone else is trying to run from the War of the Worlds aliens and they get smashed....I'm surviving. And if I don't? No water off my back. I'll be dead and what is there to worry?

Beyond all the goofy movie references I just made (Can you tell I'm a movie dork and that I work at a movie theater?), I really am awed by weather and the natural instincts of the earth, meaning all the creatures that inhabit it and the symbiotic relationships we have with our planet. No matter how self-righteous we get, nature strikes that proverbial chord in us. We are humbled daily by things like disease, fear, death, and natural instinct. We are life's bitches!

When a developing storm hits the news, the people in this town go crazy. No matter the status quo or social standing, all are running to Wal-Mart and buying that SPAM. It's exciting. And the aftermath of a storm just blows one's mind. Have you ever seen a steel billboard on the expressway that practically towers above the world? Big, right? Massive, right? MADE OF STEEL, right?! Ever seen one after a hurricane? Twisted all the way to the ground like a paperclip. Don't know about you, but that impresses me.

I don't know what an early start indicates. We all speculate that it means a rough season. More storms? More damage? Eh, who really knows. I do know I don't like are the migraines. With each storm I've endured here on the Gulf Coast, the drop in pressure erupts as an extreme migraine in me. Happens before the storm hits. Huh, maybe Spiderman does have Spidey senses. (Ok, last movie reference. Sorry. Couldn't help it). I will be riding out the season here in my little, old house in Pensacola. If one does come to this area, I'll try to post as much as I can from the computer and/or the cell phone. We'll see what happens.

MCR & Muse Concert

I had intended to write about this the following day but so many things have been just pissing me off and happening that I just hadn't been in the mood to write anything. I've abandoned all forms of personal written communication because of the blahness. Then I started having those wonky dreams that don't settle well in the soul. Time to release.

The concert itself was good. My Chemical Romance and Muse put on a good show. The performances were excellent. There are those people in our music world that should be thanking the gods for editing. If it weren't for those pesky machines in the recording studio, these artists would only have jobs as banshees in the hills of Ireland. But MCR and Muse? Excellent.

Muse was a little low-key compared to their headliners. I think that's probably their style though. I haven't really seen a video with them being extremely active. Even the goofy "Knights of Cydonia," (which I love)has them standing in place. Gerard of MCR was what one expected. A showman. Pyrotechnics. Ground shaking speakers. Good show.

Before the show....Em and I went to Wal-mart to pick up extra batteries for the camera and Sharpies in case we met the bands. Plenty of time to get to the civic center for the line for floor tickets. Went in. Went out. Car wouldn't start. It wasn't the battery (was the starter and the clutch). We were later than we wanted. Em hated me for that. She hated everyone for that. Moody girl. But with a little help from a friend, we cut in line.

Had to check the camera at the door. Was pissed. I had called before going out to the center. It was ok to bring in non-professional cameras. I asked at Will Call when I picked up the tickets and before getting in line. It was ok to bring in non-professional cameras. Yet, at the security check I had to check it.

On our left.....ecstasy users. On our right.....potheads. Behind me.....drunks. Idiots that squeezed and pushed their ways in front of Em and me. I nearly elbowed them in the back of their head and kneed their lock knees. But didn't. The joys of the mosh pit.

Didn't get to meet the band. Wasn't promised anyways. Em wasn't happy with me, but she's THAT teenager that blames the decline in the DOW on her parents. Everything is my fault. Still trying to get use to that.

It was good though. The crowd was interactive. The musicians were excellent. For Emma's first concert, I think she was pleased.

Let me add a however. Emmaline is already a curmudgeon. I would like to blame society for her somewhat cynical, sarcastic, sometimes unpleasant behavior but I know it's all me. She mimics me in many ways but not emotionally. Unless it's displeasure, she holds back on the emotion.

I Want...

I actually have a difficult time saying aloud what I want in life. At times I'm afraid that once I admit them to another person or even to myself, I actually lose the any chance of getting it. However, most often than not I feel undeserving of anything remotely good. Instead, I go about just hoping I get to that desire unnoticed like the fox of a hunt, running from the large, barking dogs that are completely gratified pointing out the location to the big scary human things carrying guns while on horseback. All that fox wants to do is get to the deep hole in the unlit forest without losing a leg or two. Yep. That's me.

So, I just don't say anything about what I want.

I am deathly terrified to speak aloud my desires. It physically shakes me. It's a core belief within in my soul that the horribly inevitable end will come to anything good if words form in any semblance (written form, thought, or sound) of my desires.

I blame losing Angus to one thought....my idiot heart saying that he was mine. It was downhill from there. No, I can't say that it was from thought alone. I had to do shit in order for it all to happen. I mucked it up with action and such, but I digress.

We're going to talk about my job because it's bothering me.

I've been an assistant manager since December 2005. I get paid very little. Seriously, it's a trifle in comparison to what I do...not trying to be conceited either. With grand ideas of what I would like to become in the company, I've made known to my general manager what my next step would like to be. I want to become a salaried manager. From there....lead manager and then general. I, by no means, am ready to become anything greater than a salaried. I actually find it difficult to imagine myself as a GM because I sure as hell am scared of being the Big Kahuna of a building. That would mean that I'm ultimately responsible for all that happens in a building. But I do imagine....in the minutest ways.

Going on....my GM is doing what he can to get me the position. He tells me this so I have to believe him. Honestly, part of me doesn't believe he's doing everything. That's just a trust thing with me. I read certain signs he gives out and I don't believe at times. BUT, I have a general belief that he is doing what he can.

The understanding is that I have to move with my company in order to get what I want. It's the policy. I understand that. I'm all for that. I don't mind moving. It scares the hell out of me because I'm always scared of trying to take care of things alone; and moving would mean that I know NO ONE. No friends. Nothing. Just Em and me and whatever animals we would bring. But, I would move.

My GM wants me to stay at our building because he believes that I need to develop here. In better terms but to the same effect, I need a lot of attention. This statement has pissed me off. I can't say that it's not true because it really is and that makes me angrier. I feel like some underdeveloped, emotional adolescent that is so fucking insecure.

Despite all the work that I do. Despite all the progress I've made in the last year. Despite my efforts to be a more stable, functioning adult. I am not getting what I want. And I can't say aloud anymore because I end up losing what I want. It always happens. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Probably. But when I start to get a glimmer of what I believe should be mine, it disappears.

What do I do? Dare I dream? Dare I put admit my secret of secrets? I am just as deserving as anyone else that has plans and goals for the future, right? I've worked hard. I'm doing more to be a better person. I should just walk right up to the world and claim what is mine.

So, why can't I still do it?