Monday, March 06, 2006

Sundays Child is full of waste

This week is March Break. Lucky for us, that means everyone is off - me, Owen, Harry even Eric. (Yes, even the Military will give you a March break when you are not risking your neck in Kandahar). All except Aidan. I was contractually oligated to pay for this week - so he shall make an appearance. Consistent with most holidays, I have contracted a cold.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of wallowing in my misery. I don't usually have this luxury, so I decided to take advantage of the occasion. I curled up on the couch, sniffled, and barked at the kids when they stood in front of the T.V. I watched very bad movies all day long. And then, I went to the movies, and then, I watched all the weirdness and carnivale that accompanies the Academy Awards. All the talk about the "the dress!" "the dress!" "the dress!" was turning Eric three shades of green. But we really did love the gay cowboy montage. Brilliant.

So let me rewind here a bit. In the morning I watched Elizabethtown. This kicked of my Sunday of very bad movies. Hearing Orlando Bloom awkwardly intonate a midwestern accent was painful, really. There were times that his spirit was just busting at the seems, deperate to parlee in his velvety accent. I can't believe Susan Sarandon was in this film. It was a mess. I am sure there are a few Hollywood types that wanted to see it die a horrible death, as did I.

Then there was North Country. Now, this was not so much a bad movie as it was depressing. Most acclaimed dramas are not about uplifting the human spirit, but more about reminding us how low the humanity has degenerated. It was a good film in the sense that it was able to conjure and eminate its depressiveness all the way over to me curled up on the sofa, wallowing in my own misery. It was a journey of emotional torment. First, my inner narrative raged at the injustice - it seemed to make my current problems dwarf in comparison. I can go to work and not have to see a caraciture of me, smeared in shit, blowing a stick man. This is the good news. However, I kept mentally replacing the male miners with full time academics, and the women with part-time faculty. The mine morphed into hallowed academic halls, and the sexual cat-calls became rankist rheoric. At the end of the film, there was some hope of redemption. I was ready to double dose on my sinus medication - just to give reality an interesting twist.

We took the kids out for lunch - since I am the head chef, and I was self admittedly wallowing in my own misery. It was already that obvious that I did not need to tape a sign to my forehead that says "The mommy is OUT". After lunch, now feeling uncomfortably stuffed, and now drugged with a new dose of cold medication, I popped in The Weatherman with Nicholas Cage. I had never heard of this film, prior to its release on DVD - but it was truly excruciating to watch. It was a film, which wallowed in its own pathos. I slept on and off, so did Aidan and I felt no loss for what I missed, nor any desire to go back and fill in those gaps.

As a final stab at topping my day of misery wallowing, I decided to watch In Her Shoes. I was expecting a vapid and myth perpetuating chick-flick. I don't like most of the movies with Cameron Diaz, so I aimed very low in my final DVD selection. I was actually pleasantly surprised. The characters has their baggage, their own pathos and neuroses, but it was not so black and hollow as Nick Cages uber-pathetic characted. I have not seen the end of this movie - because I took Owen and Harry to see Nanny McPhee. This film redeemed my whole day.

And that just seems very weird to admit.

Meanwhile, during my day of wallowing in my own misery, Harry comes up to me, and says in all earnestness "Mommy, I am watching Johnny Carson". (Eric has a collection on VHS).

Weird.

2 comments:

Mary P. said...

We were sick around here, too, so Emma and I watched Fiddler on the Roof. Love that show.

hotboy said...

Watching the telly from the couch is the only way to do these diseases! Loved the post! Just like what I do! Hotboy p.s. You could have written some letters to colleagues from the couch to pass it on. Oh, mean!!