Geena, Be My President!

Geena,

You won the Golden Globe, and they still put your hit show, Commander in Chief, on hiatus for almost an entire season. Of course they claim that it is "creative differences" between ABC and the creator, Rod Lurie, but I know the real reason.

Forget Hilary! We want you! You're a born leader. Here's my list of reasons why you should be the next actor president:

1. You're a member of Mensa (140 IQ).

2. You're a living, breathing Amazon. 6 feet tall and an Olympian archer. Remember The Long Kiss Goodnight, one of my favorite action films.

3. You were born in Massachusetts so your politics are probably progressive.

I'm not the only one who is toying with the idea. Sure, other people have been writing a script to make your character, Mackenzie Allen, and therefore you, the ideal president. She is an independent who will not compromise her principles for any party or poll. She is smart and sexy, but most of all, she is a powerful person, not because of her position, but because she knows who she is.

My favorite scene is in the pilot episode when Mac confronts an ambassador from a foreign country. Mac knows that he is not taking her very seriously and is not even entertaining her request so she impresses him with her power by entering a war room where every military official immediately stands to attention as soon as she enters the room. The sudden change, both visually and emotionally in the scene, is a stirring one. Geena, as Mac, you command respect.

There are not many women or men that the American people can take seriously as President, fictional or not, because they just don't seem right for the part for a number of reasons. Usually those people can be weeded out during an election. See Michael Dukakis in the tank. Sometimes the American people don't get to choose through an election. See Gerald Ford or George W. Bush. (W! I kid because I love! Don't hurt me Cheney! Of course, you were elected. Two times. Good for you!)

And sometimes one truly embarassing, unforgettable moment ends up destroying a President's potential to change the world. Hear Bill Clinton's "I did not have sexual relations with that woman" and Jimmy Carter's "I've committed adultery in my heart many times. " Of course, people were too harsh with Jimmy Carter, who actually showed character by being honest, but the media is allergic to that kind of honesty and had to twist it into a joke.

See, Geena, that wouldn't happen to you. Even when you're joking, we take you seriously. You've already made your worst mistakes. See Cutthroat Island or your previous television efforts. If Reagan could move past acting with a monkey and being divorced, no one should care about your past. Now you know who you are! A woman of fortitude who can earn the respect of the nation.

We've missed you! Let's renew your term for more than a season--8 more years!

Forget a Month. History Is the Future!

I love history, but am dismayed that when people discuss history as a solely academic subject with no bearing on our daily life. The conversation can become polarized as if it is impossible to discuss one aspect of history without excluding the other. For example, when some people request that historical accounts reflect the accomplishments of a diverse population of the community, other people think that may mean dumbing down the curriculum and our culture. "Does that mean our children will not know about Jefferson? Or read William Shakespeare?"

In other words, diversity is equated with basket weaving or tongue clicking. (Standard disclaimer: Not that I am saying that basket weaving or tongue clicking is not valuable to society.) The shortest month in the year has passed, and now it is March. To many, the passing of February means the end of Black History month.

Black history is not only a part of everyone's history, but is part of our present. Here are the top twenty inventions that any modern person cannot live without:

1. Fountain pen, William Purvis;
2. Telephone component, Granville Woods;
3. Refrigerator- John Standard;
4. Refrigerated Long Haul Trucks- Frederick Jones;
5. Air Conditioner- Frederick Jones;
6. Central heating, Alice Parker;
7. Smoke detector, Sidney Jacoby;
8. Fire extinguisher, Thomas J. Martin;
9. Fire ladders, Joseph Winters
10. Elevator- Alexander Miles;
11. Street Sweeper Truck, Charles Brooks
12. Lawn Mower, John Albert Burr;
13. Automated gear shift and brake, Richard Spikes
14. Traffic signal, Garrett Morgan;
15. Automated Shoemaking, Jan Matzeliger;
16. Disposable syringe, Phil Brooks;
17. Blood Bank, Dr. Charles Drew;
18. Method of fabricating an imaging X-ray spectrometer, George Edward Alcorn, Jr;
19. Cataract Laserphaco Probe, Patricia Bath;
20. Illusion transmitter, Valerie Thomas.

My Personal Favorite: Meat Preservation Techniques, Lloyd Augustus Hall !

Guilty Pleasure: Surface (Spoiler Warning)

When the fall season began, there were so many Lost-inspired or alien-themed shows that I made bets, solely based on the commercials, which show would be the most craptacular and derivative. Surface was at the top of my list as the first show to be cancelled, but I am embarrassed to admit that I am glad that I was wrong.

On the surface (I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist), it is a show about sea creatures possibly from another world or from the oceanic depths. These sea creatures may endanger the entire planet by devouring the ocean's food supply and then humanity. The story focuses on three people: Laura, a hot oceanographer single mom, Rich, a Southern every man and survivor of one attack, and Miles, an awkward teenager.

Surface is not ground-breaking. When I read the reviews for this show, each review alluded to Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which I have not seen yet. (I will be the first to admit that it is a cardinal sin not to see this film, particularly considering Julia Phillips role in it. If you don't know who she is, I suggest that you immediately purchase and read You'll Never Eat Lunch in This Town Again, a great tell-all memoir about life in Hollywood.)

Everyone is missing the point. Surface is derivative and comfortable so the viewer can get lulled into the story. The special effects are dated if the viewer focuses too long upon the images, but the emotion of the story energizes the plot by using the heart of the show, Miles. It is a sci-fi soap opera, and Surface gives the viewer a narrative spliced together with well-known and beloved plots to make one show.

The first few weeks were quite predictable. For example, Miles adopts one of the sea creatures, names him E.T., ahem Nim (short for Nimrod), then is forced to return his beloved pet to the ocean or else endanger Nim, who is being chased by local officials who simply think of Nim as a threat to others. I have to admit that I cried repeatedly when Miles parted from Nim, and Nim glows goodbye as he disappears into the waves. Miles lingers in the ocean and looks into the distance with a look of devastation.

If you have not lost a pet or loved an animal, then don't bother reading any further. I have had three cats and felt incredibly close to each of them. As my time with each of them ended for different reasons, I still torture myself with the thought that I was a bad owner and should have done anything to prevent that end.

Surface takes each of these normal feelings one step farther. Nim discovers that he has no home, and Miles takes unbelievable steps to protect Nim. While looking for him, Miles encounters Nim's more aggressive counterparts who attack and fatally wound him. Fortunately, Nim's goodbye was only a see ya later because soon the traumatized Nim is forced to return to Miles after being caught in a net and tortured by his captors. Before Miles can die in the hospital, Nim cures Miles and is killed. Miles wakes up devastated but changed. When Nim rises from the dead (of course) on the autopsy table in the aquarium, Miles discovers that he is changing and has a strange link to Nim. Um, E.T. never converted people.

Suddenly when I was least expecting it, the show has morphed into a pastiche of a number of werewolf stories and the X-Men. A recent episode ended with Miles solemnly leading a number of aggressive sea creatures, including Nim, into the ocean away from the violent encounter with townspeople in Wilmington, North Carolina. Before his intervention, the people were ready to kill the creatures, until they discovered that they couldn't and were attacked with Nim in the lead.

Tonight's episode brought the allusion to the X-Men to the forefront by Miles being threatened by the townspeople as a "mutant." It is no accident that the show takes place in the South because Miles and his family are nearly lynched before he is rescued by a tsunami warning. Deep Impact anyone? The tsunami may have been caused by the sea creatures disturbing the earth's plate tectonics. (I'm just grateful that the end of the world begins in a bucolic Southern sea coast town instead of a major metropolitan area such as New York City or Los Angeles.)

Meanwhile when the story gets too touchy-feely, the oceanographer and good ol' Southern boy are caught up in a conspiracy corporate cover-up, which may or may not involve the government. Apparently a corporation has created these creatures, along with a number of others, for reasons unknown and Rich practically exclaims that it is an abomination. Frankenstein? I'm sure that I missed a number of allusions.

Surface is a comfortable show that rewards the viewer weekly by offering archetypical plots in order to make us feel like the show is progressing. It is as exploitive as hell, but it sure is a fun ride. Any show that ends the world is a winner in my book.

Saga of the Passport Photo

I do not look good in photographs. I am not saying that I think that I don't look good in photographs. I know that I do not look good in most photographs. I can easily count the number of times when I looked good in photographs, including:

1. anywhere in Denmark in the summer of 1996 because the time zone, climate and people agreed with me;

2. during any activity related to my college roommate's wedding, even with a tiara on my head; and

3. in my first passport photo.

No one has a good driver's license or passport photo, but it was almost as if all the bad photos granted me one miracle, one good bureaucratic photo. It was taken at a local travel agency after an all-nighter, two exams and no caffeine. If I had not experienced this miracle, I probably would not have cared about how I looked in the next one.

Passports need to be renewed every ten years. After seeing four 2x2 photos of my face looking washed out, and my head shaped like a large hard-boiled egg, I decided to treat this photo shoot like a movie production and use all my film analysis skills to take a good photo. [When my mom first saw the photos, she said, "They look fine, sweetie." Then wordlessly I showed her my current passport photo. "Oh yeah, you can't use those. No."]

If I had a production crew solely devoted to making sure that my hair looked good, the lighting was ideal and the clothes and makeup were perfect, I would look good. Unfortunately, I can't afford a production crew. In my effort to pay off my student loans, I decided to forgo any beauty treatments outside of the home, but this passport photo was an investment. God willing, I will pay off my student loans by September 2009 and will do a lot of traveling within the next ten years. Every time I had to show my passport, I wanted it to be a celebration of being debt-free, not another moment to ponder whether or not I looked like a wan, sleepy hag.

On Friday night, I got a facial from Elizabeth Grady. On Saturday morning, I recreated the elements of the photo by wearing the same blazer and turtleneck that I did in the first photo. I applied my makeup the same way that I did ten years ago....I actually put some on.

Then I went to my new favorite hair stylist, Marjorie of Rosie's Hair Design at 1700 Mass Ave, Cambridge, (617) 876-1603. I usually don't like going to the hair salon for several reasons. First, Rosie's Hair Design is one of the few hair salons that actually does all types of hair, not just claiming that they do while nervously consulting with other hair stylists about what to do. Second, pain was always one disincentive from going to the salon. When Marjorie used the blow dryer, it did not feel like the flames of Mordor were styling my hair. Third, I did not have to make an appointment years in advance, miss a day of work, travel to a different town, then hope that I was seen before midnight, and that my hair style was completed before the next millennium.

After my hair was done, it was time to take the photo because the famous New England weather could have decided to flip the switch to rain at any moment. I decided not to go to the local travel agency because I noticed that they took photos from an unflattering angle, as if a child was taking your photo and angling the camera towards your chin (or what looked like chins in the photo).

Instead, I rushed to Hunt's Photo and Video because Hunt's offered two options: the traditional Polaroid camera or a digital camera. I went for the retro look of the Polaroid camera because I could not be bothered to read the Department of State's requirements for digital photos. The camera faced me head-on, and the photos were a success.

It cost me over $200.00 to take one good photo, but if a photo is really worth a thousand words, I don't want them to be expletives.

Notable Movies of 2005 (spoilers)

1. Walk The Line:
Having absolutely no interest in Johnny Cash, country music or the Carter family, I was shocked that I was as into this movie as the die-hard fans, such as the group of middle-aged guys in the Harvard Square movie theatre who danced in their seats to Joaquin Phoenix's rendition of the Man in Black's famous songs.

My two favorite scenes illustrate Cash and June Carter's hard road to salvation and love. In one scene, Cash finally recognizes that he can best honor his brother's goal of doing good, not by being a minister, by singing to prisoners and others in words that they can understand and brandishing his guitar like a gun.

"Record Company Executive: Your fans are gospel folk, Johnny. They're Christians, and they don't wanna hear you singing to a bunch of murderers and rapists, tryin' to cheer 'em up. Johnny Cash: Then they ain't Christians. " Cash's gospel was not about religion, but about the harsh and depressing reality of the world and tending to those who needed the most attention, not the ones who could pay for it. Black is the color of choice for mourners and ministers.

In another scene, at the end of a disastrous Thanksgiving family meal, Cash suffers another bout of self-loathing and poor judgment when he attempts to place his tractor in a better position and ends up reversing it into the lake. The Carter family fiercely tends to him and help him quit drugs by shooing away his drug dealer with several shotguns. March on Christian soldiers.

I was particularly impressed how June Carter's struggle was handled. Every awkward encounter with a fan emphasizes that June bore the brunt of her love for Cash and her knowledge that adultery is a sin. In addition, the sanctimonious patrons perfectly illustrate that it is as much of a sin to criticize without love.

2. Capote:
Can murder be defined as the violent act of taking of someone's life or effectively manipulating a person into giving the essence of what their life was? Whether recounting humorous stories at a cocktail party or intimate memories during a small town dinner, Capote soaks up attention then has an almost reptilian ability to redirect that attention to his prey in order to manipulate them in an effort to achieve his goal, i.e. to get more attention.

The only time that Capote simultaneously does and does not effectively read a room in a Kansas sheriff's office, decides to aggressively respond to the Kansas stares as if they were gaping at his fabulous fashion sense, not his overtly urbane homosexuality, and simply states "Bergdorf" while gesturing to his scarf.

Capote is another triumph for Hoffman. Kudos to Bennett Miller, the director, and Dan Futterman, writer and executive producer, who may be better known for his acting roles in Judging Amy, Will and Grace and Sex and the City, for bravely going behind the scenes for the first-time in a feature-length drama and creating an opportunity to make an intelligent and riveting movie.

3. A History of Violence:
Viggo Mortensen has bravely left his role as the hot door-opening hero, Aragorn, in Lord of the Rings, or the seductively anemic pretty boy in such films as A Walk On the Moon, 28 Days (the one with Sandra Bullock, not zombies...insert joke here, but be careful because I like Sandra) or A Perfect Murder. Mortensen can act! As Tom Stall, he effectively reveals the fractured persona of a small town diner owner who in the blink of an eye reveals the grimace of a cold-hearted killer, Joey.

I have always been a big fan of David Cronenberg, who effectively maintains the pacing of the movie. The underrated Maria Bello also does a magnificent job as the wife who closes ranks to defend her family before the outside world, but within the family realm, shows the dark side of their ever escalating role-playing.

Honorable Mention: Pride and Prejudice:
Aka Bronte's P&P. I still thought it was a satisfying portrayal, and by the last scene of the movie, I melted. I'm not made of stone.

Farewell to Threshold

CBS cancelled Threshold, and I am still mourning its loss. I was hooked to the story lines, which is not a surprise considering my affinity to shows such as The X-Files. Threshold is about the worst case scenario faced by humanity, a hostile invasion by aliens, and how a genius scientist, Dr. Molly Ann Cafferty, played by Carla Gugino, has a plan to stop the alien invasion and keep it a secret from the public in order to prevent widespread panic.

Poor Carla Gugino. Despite her acting chops, it appears that she may be cursed to star in smart TV shows doomed to be cancelled after a few episodes (see Karen Sisco). So when I heard that she was going to star in a CBS sci-fi show called Threshold, I knew that I would not have a long time to enjoy it.

Dr. Cafferty assembled a team of fellow geniuses to secretly stop the invasion. Dr. Cafferty's team includes a strong cast of supporting actors such as Peter Dinklage and Brent Spiner. I was extremely impressed that they showed enough respect for Peter Dinklage to not use the fact that he was a dwarf as a defining character trait. Brent Spiner is best known as the legendary Lt. Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. If that information means nothing to you, then you may have just woken up from a coma and please let me be the first to say welcome back.

Threshold was more challenging and definitely moved faster than its more successful counterparts, Invasion and Surface, because every week, some assumption was blown out of the water. This invasion was deeply sinister and was more like demon possession and global warfare.

The aliens did not have to visit earth. The aliens invaded by transforming DNA through sound signals transmitted by one of their multi-dimensional objects, but once possessed, the human host found other ways to transmit the signal: music, food, computers, bodily fluids. The aliens had been planning and attempting to invade for many years before Dr. Cafferty's discovery.

No character was safe, and anything could happen anywhere in the world. In one episode, in order to prevent a global transmission of the signal through computers, an electromagnetic pulse was delivered in the Miami area. In another episode, Dr. Cafferty's bosses, a high-level congressman, Dr. Cafferty's mentor, and other top government officials were infected, and she was forced to make the decision to shoot their plane down.

The widespread cover-up was impressive, but the devastating impact on each member of the team was phenomenal, especially considering that a few were nearly infected by the signal. Each week, the team faced the disturbing fact that they have more in common with the infected than they would like to believe as they are haunted by dreams of alien ice forests, which may be an oneiric glimpse into where the aliens originate.

There was no end in sight, and the prognosis for humanity seemed dire. Perhaps that is why people did not like the show. The plot of constant possible infection may have seemed repetitive and monotous with no end in sight, but viewers were mistaken. Threshold used the alien invasion as a metaphor for the constant war on terror or even drugs. The scope of the threat was both global and intimate. The face of the alien was primarily human and familiar. The threat was also faced by government officials trying to balance the desire to protect people with violation of their liberties.

I'll miss Threshold and am happy to hear that it is doing well in the UK!

Ansel Adams: Master of Black and White

Is there a single person who does not like Ansel Adams’ photographs? Art can be considered controversial. Some even feel ridiculed by it and respond by asking, “Is this really ‘art’?” but Ansel Adams’ work never provokes such a hostile response. Adams’ photographs are loved by art connoisseurs and skeptics alike.

One reason may be because Adams does not act like our idea of who an artist is. In the Museum of Fine Arts, until January 4, 2006, the Gund Gallery will feature Ansel Adams: Master of Black and White, which includes a fourteen-minute documentary featuring Adams. Adams appears to be an ordinary man with an extraordinary gift. He is down to earth, utterly unpretentious and avuncular. He has a child’s smile on a grandfatherly face.

For a great man, he does not act superior, but grateful for the unbelievable opportunity of being able to do what he loves and get paid for it. He is someone that you would want to be seated next to in a coffee shop, and if you did see him in an art gallery, you would not be afraid that he would sneer at you.

For Adams, art has a theological function: to interpret the daily miraculous aspects of physical and spiritual life. Adams is aptly named. Like Adam, he finds a way to embody the majestic wonder of nature, not by naming it, but by clicking his shutter. Adams said, “No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied—it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.” Adams’ photographs not only capture what was before his eyes, they embody the way that his photographic subjects made him feel.

Most art experts accurately describe Adams as being a brilliant technician. He was a man who mastered the use of filters and invented the Zone System, the technique of focused exposure, but it would be a mistake to believe that anyone with similar skills could use a camera and have this same effect. Adams noted, “Art…is both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit.” Technology may accurately portray an image, but the photographer’s perspective conveys the spiritual beauty of the photographer’s subjects.

Because Adams did love his subjects, he created photographs that still remind the viewer of every human being’s desire to acknowledge something larger than them and to see things as they were meant to be seen. For example, Moonrise is a photograph of a Southwestern landscape, which included a town’s church and graveyard.

In this photograph, the ephemeral clouds have more substance than any mountain within the frame, and the moon illuminates each grave marker, cross and tombstone as if to suggest an otherworldly glow. Adams managed to briefly give his an audience a glimpse of the crossroads of life and afterlife. Even Adams noted about Moonrise, “Sometimes I do think I get to places just when God is ready to have someone click the shutter!”

Adams affirmatively answers in each photograph that art does matter. His photographs remind the viewer not to take life for granted. Adams not only depicted the majesty of landscapes, but also meditated on the daily wonders of a simple flower or the remarkable qualities of his friends.

In one photograph, he reflected on the human spirit of each companion: Georgia O’Keefe, and their guide, Orville Cox. He captured the pleasure of their company, O’Keefe’s delightful and impish spirit, Cox’s shy nature and their sense of belonging and delight while touring Canyon de Cheily, Arizona.

Ultimately, Adams’ photographs did not just depict an ideal, but a way of life for the venerable photographer. When viewers were captivated by his work, he explained, “I believe the approach of the artist and the approach of the environmentalist are fairly close in that both are, to a rather impressive degree, concerned with the ‘affirmation of life’….Response to natural beauty is one of the foundations of the environmental movement.” His beliefs were not just confined to the imagery of the wild, but Adams made every effort to protect the Earth in his environmental advocacy.

Our adoration of Adams’ depiction of the majestic landscape of the west and the human spirit must be accompanied with actions of respect towards that majesty endowed to all creation.

Rich in Snark

Cambridge Picks is a blog devoted to what I love. In response to popular demand, this weekend, I created Rich in Snark, a blog devoted to what annoys me. I hope that you enjoy it.

Serenity (Warning: Spoilers)

I never watched Firefly. Maybe I watched one episode, but I knew that Firefly would not stay on the air for long. Joss Whedon already had two successful shows. Three would be pushing it. Besides, I was thoroughly enchanted by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. I did not need another obsession.

Without Whedon's name, Firefly did not stand a chance. A Western set in space. I was shocked when audiences embraced a genre-defying hour focused on a former cheerleader teenage vampire slayer. I initially thought that Whedon was trying too hard and maybe needed to take a break. Rethink things.

I was both right and wrong. Firefly only lasted for eleven episodes. Apparently there are fourteen episodes on the DVD, which I have yet to see, but when I saw the previews for Serenity, I was captivated. It looked better than any thing FOX used to initially promote the show. The lines were funny, and anytime there is a woman kicking butt, I'm there, but surely it was only the usual preview promises. The best scenes were probably in the promos, but still I had a good feeling about this movie.

That feeling alone was worth the price of admission. It turns out that the price of admission was a bargain for what I received. Serenity is a smart and beautiful sci-fi movie that struggles with themes that Whedon has always explored.

Whedon knows that the key to success is a good story. I was struck by the flow and beauty of the language. If I simply quoted the lines, it would hardly sound poetic, but while listening to the characters, I was struck by how naturally they uttered lines that initially sounded as foreign as Shakespeare. As I got used to the flow of the dialogue, simple phrases sounded poignant as if I was listening to soldiers' letters during the Civil War.

I am sure that Whedon intentionally evokes the nineteenth century to further Serenity's central theme: what it means to be your brother's keeper and who your brother is. Why do you have to care about others especially since you have your own struggles and "family" to worry about? Shouldn't you protect those you love first?

In Serenity, the only traditionally defined family is River and Simon Tam, a sister and brother who are running away from the Alliance, and Zoe and Wash, a married couple who are part of the crew of Serenity, but family means more than the ties of blood and vows. From the beginning of the movie, it is clear that Mal and the crew of Serenity are more than a team of war-weary veterans, but a family that is struggling to survive. As Mal tries to push away River and Simon and rationalize that they are not family in order to protect the rest of his crew from the Alliance, he increasingly realizes two things.

First, family is made by love, and love will defy any logical impulse. Despite the central characters efforts to be "bad guys," they can't stop their impulse to love and protect nearly everyone they come into contact with. As the Alliance begins to murder each person they have simply associated or worked with, their emotions betray their mercenary facade.

Second, any effort to limit who should be valued will only conclude in no one being cared for. The Alliance, as embodied by the cruelly efficient Operative, seeks to eliminate any imperfections in their goal to a perfect society, which seems to include everyone who has ever made the Alliance possible: proud scientists, settlers with any human impulse, even the Operative himself. The Alliance's motto is the opposite of "If anyone of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone..." (John 8:7) In the end, to the Alliance, a perfect society is one with no one in it.

Unlike the Alliance, Mal acknowledges, "I'm risking my crew on the theory that you're a real person." Real people are our family, filled with sin and all sorts of improper impulses. Family is supposed to be difficult and inconvenient, but family nevertheless.

The crew of Serenity comes to the natural conclusion: love requires that you do the right thing: "Y'all got on this boat for different reasons, but y'all comin' to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you, than I have before. Sure as I know anything, I know this. I aim to misbehave. " In a society that sanitizes and excludes everyone from the definition of family, one must love generously. In a society where the alleged good guys, the Alliance, allow millions to perish, only the bad guys can show mercy and constantly sacrifice themselves for each other. The only rational and human response is to misbehave.

In that simple decision to embrace love, the crew ultimately wins the war and exposes the truth about the Alliance. "Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:6-8)

Once again, Whedon has reminded me to not flee society while bemoaning that the church is full of hypocrites, the government full of politicians and the corporations full of thieves. There are a few things that you cannot do alone: be married, a Christian or an American. Each one requires that you act in fellowship with the unlovable in an effort to do the right thing even if you do not have the inclination or ability to do so.

To act in fellowship, I must remember something crucial about myself. I'm full of sin too. I'm unlovable. So I need to get off my high horse and start doing something. Only then can I protect what I love.

Top Three Summer Shows

Now that the fall season is upon us, it is time to recall this past summer's top three guilty pleasures, which I would happily welcome in this fall's lineup.

1. Hell's Kitchen

I never thought that a cursing British chef would gain my love and respect, but Chef Gordon Ramsay has. I was struck by how truly pained he was when a contestant did not revere food as much as he thought the food deserved or the contestant failed to prepare for dinner service. When one contestant replied that she only had two servings of a meat dish when every customer was ordering it, Chef replied, "Two?!?" with such disgust and disdain, I immediately knew that the cursing was not necessary. He could sum up his feelings in one simple word. Chef Ramsay pushed his contestants to do better, and even though his techniques were brash, they only matched his need for perfection.

2. Hit Me Baby One More Time

Not the Britney Spears song! The television show is a "one-hour competition program featuring veteran music hit-makers who will each perform their greatest hit -- as well as cover a popular contemporary song -- with the favorite to be determined by audience voting."

I love singing along to old hits, and it is fun to see artists, from one hit wonders to one time legends, try to recapture the adulation of an audience. My favorite episode featured Wang Chung covering Nelly's "Hot in Herre," complete with one of the lead singers waggling his eyebrows, slapping his butt and enthusiastically waving his arms. Even the back-up singer was getting into the performance. Cameo did a soulful twist to Bowling for Soup's "1985" and turned the song into a sorrowful yet funky dedication to lost dreams of youth.

Even less than spectacular performances provided the performer with what seemed like closure. Haddaway showed that he had a good sense of humor about Saturday Night Live's take on "What is Love" when he danced with the famous head tilt move then mimicked Britney Spears' writhing in "Toxic." When Vanilla Ice sang "Ice Ice Baby," I was hopeful that he had finally resolved his issues. In the Surreal Life, he constantly complained that he never wanted to be the person that he was when he originally sang that song, not that the new Vanilla Ice seemed like an improvement. Still I was glad that he could finally sing the song instead of rail against it.

3. So You Think You Can Dance

I love dance shows. The judging can be frustrating, but the performances rarely are. I miss the days when the Ballroom Dancing Championships would be aired on PBS, and different talent shows had dancing competitions. How many times can you see ballroom and hip-hop dancing in one show by the same performers? Not often enough.

This show stretches its audiences' dance knowledge and broadens its dancers' expertise. I love it when dancers, whom I once considered as limited to excelling in one style, then surprise me with an amazing performance in an unfamiliar style. For example, Destini really proved herself when she finally left her field of lyrical dance and shook her butt in a show-stopping performance in Hip-Hop. Some performers, such as Ashle, continue to prove that one dancer can be a chameleon and amazing in anything from the Samba to modern dance. Of course, dancing is supposed to be fun and easy to look at, and Nick, a lyrical dancer, proved that when he did a great routine in Disco. Even when some dancers are daunted by these challenges, dancers, such as Ryan, still leave us with memorable moments such as Ryan's performance in the mambo, which was executed better than a certain ballroom dancer who recently tried to dance similar moves, but with less panache.

Summer of Pain

Customarily, I try to devote this site to positive things, but it would be insensitive not to mention a couple of events.

1. The Emergency Response to Hurricane Katrina

I feel like I'm watching the end of civilization. When Americans are left to live in filth and die of easily preventable causes, something dramatically wrong has occurred. If we cannot respond promptly and effectively to an emergency that was considerate enough to give us a week's notice, then we should be ashamed as we approach another anniversary of September 11th and realize that we are not prepared for any future threats.

2. The Subway Bombings in the UK

To our brothers & sisters in the UK, stay calm. Facing the dangers of WWII and IRA bombings enabled you to handle terrorists--citizens gone mad. Your determination strengthens us. I gasped in shock and anger when I first heard the news. The image of soot-stained faces was unfortunately too familiar. You returned to daily life while simultaneously struggling with grief and gave us a sterling example of how to face these lovers of death.

Summer of Joy

This summer, I did not have much time to write anything. I was busy engaging in activities that could not be recommended to others, but special personal events that will remain memorable for years to come.

Here are the top two events of the Summer of 2005:

1. I turned THIRTY!

I am not one of those angst-filled young people who fear the onslaught of maturity. I have always welcomed the years with open arms. After all, it is better than the alternative. Still, my birthday was on a weekday, and I did not plan to do anything special. My agenda consisted of eating sushi while watching Party Girl and Unbreakable.

Fortunately, my mother had other plans. As I have mentioned before, my mother lives with me and for several years, she has slowly been collecting phone numbers of my friends. That week, she called friends from college, law school and Bible Study to a "surprise" birthday party at my place.

I would have been surprised if she had not asked me the day before my birthday who prepared the party platters. A co-worker cleverly noted, "Your mother is no fool. She knows that you may have decided to go somewhere at the last minute."

She then prepared a feast suitable for meat-eaters and vegetarians alike. The menu consisted of some of my favorites: a pork roast, which we normally only have during the holidays, rotisserie chicken, rice and pigeon peas and asparagus. There were also party platters such as an assorted fruit platter, which consisted of pineapple, cantaloupe and honeydew, and a Mediterranean wrap platter.

Even though I knew there was a party, I did not know who was actually coming. As each person arrived and the disparate groups melded together as if they knew each other for years, I realized that the best birthday present was simply having so many people care for me. Best present ever!

2. College Roommate's Wedding

I alluded to this event while the preparations were still transpiring. Well, the great couple's big day finally arrived after several days of exciting events. I did not think that waking up at 6 a.m. for work throughout the week would enable me to keep going for three days of celebration, but in the end, sheer joy for the Bride gave me all the energy that I needed.

Instead of a bachelorette party, we had a Diva Night at Cuchi Cuchi and sang karaoke in a private room at the Limelight Stage and Studio. The party consisted of the following: the Bride, the Bride's sister, aka the Dancing Diva; the Best Woman, another college roommate, aka the One Woman Empire; and the Bride's high school friend, a Woman With Connections.

At Cuchi Cuchi, our host was the fabulous Wafita, who outfitted us with tiaras and boas. The Bride's beauty could not be marred by toppling tiaras, and every man in the restaurant was saddened to discover the reason for our celebration, even though that news did not stop some persistent admirers. I discovered that I should wear a tiara wherever I go because I look fabulous in one, but found myself sneezing whenever I got near the boas.

The tapas menu mostly consisted of Vegan delights, which was quite impressive considering none of us were vegans. We had stuffed artichoke hears (fried artichoke hearts filled with gorgonzola and pistachio nuts drizzled with garlic-lemon-olive butter); sauteed artichoke hearts (in evoo with garlic, sundried tomato pesto and black olives); grilled asparagus spears with mango-mint salsa; thai crab claws with chili sauce, grilled skirt steak with cocunut-ginger glaze; stuffed portabella mushrooms (sauteed vegetables, basmati rice, coconut milk); and brie en croute.

Then our limo shuttled us to our private studio to sing ourselves hoarse to tunes with the same titles as our names. As we prepared to leave, two guys did a great rendition of Jessie's Girl for the Bride. In the end, we cancelled our last stop, salsa dancing, in order to be rested for the next day.

The next night was the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner at the Harvard Faculty Club. I was a little nervous about the reading only because I was not sure whether or not I would remember when I had to move to the front. Father Dave, the Groom's Uncle, provided a helpful reminder: "It would be nice when I sit down, if you would walk to the front. I can make an announcement if I don't see you move." In layman's terms, "Move your butt when I sit so I don't have to ruin the flow of the ceremony." Got it!

The rehearsal dinner was so moving. It was nice to spend more time with the Bride's family, and it was a privilege to meet the Groom's family. The evening was filled with poignant moments, including a dance dedicated to the Bride by the Dancing Diva; a beautiful slide show consisting of both families' photos from the nineteenth century, literally when the photograph was invented, and a toast for a departed loved one.

On the wedding day, the weather was cold but sunny and perfect for photos. I was able to spend the day with another college roommate, known as NYC Pal on this site. The Bride not only looked beautiful, but she looked like the icon of all brides. The Groom was obviously touched by the entire experience, and his visible adoration was touching. It was great to watch them becoming an actual married couple, not as a dramatic sudden change, but a smooth, natural transition.

The wedding reception was a blast. It was like a college reunion without the stress and the poignant moments continued. For example, the wedding day was scheduled on the birthday of the Bride's first female ancestor who arrived in America, and the wedding favor was Lingonberries jam, which came from a Norwegian field named after the Bride's last name! We danced all night, and the only disappointment was that the celebration could not continue forever.

Before the wedding, I displayed photos of all my friends except my college roommates. It was not because I favored them any less, but the only photos that I had were unflattering. Because we lived together, most of our photos consisted of pajamas, sweat pants, makeshift afros and tired smiles. They were treasured memories that would never be shared with anyone outside of the group. Even though not every roommate attended the wedding, it was nice that I finally had a nice photo with my dear friends. That photo reminds me that the party is just beginning.

Batman Begins (Warning: Spoilers)

Why make another Batman movie? When did Batman become the James Bond of comic books? We've seen every permutation of the caped crusader: campy, brooding or just a blank for the next actor to fill. Still, I left work early to see it.

Although the plot screamed "Message!!,"* I appreciated the efforts that the writers took to distinguish justice from vengeance and reveal Bruce Wayne's psychological progress. Unfortunately the message was heavy-handed. "Batman is NOT A CRIMINAL!!! I repeat. HE IS NOT A CRIMINAL. Even though he is in a cave and has a huge stockpile of weapons, he will do what it takes to stop the evildoers."

In other words, Batman is like the CIA, a shadow arm for the police. His first mission is inspired by his childhood friend who just happens to be a DA and wants to crush the mob. He nearly gets drawn into a terrorist cell. His efforts to stop the mob lead him to a terrorist plot (covered by drug dealing) to destroy the citizens of Gotham. Because the terrorists' efforts to sabotage the economy failed, the terrorists are now forced to use airborne neurotoxins. By the end of the movie, he is clearly taking orders from the cops.

The writers unfortunately really lay it on thick when it comes to father figures for poor young Bruce Wayne. Will it be Liam Neeson with his fake mustache and goatee who apparently picked up some unfortunate Jedi speeches, but still cuts a majestic figure? Will it be Alfred who reminds him of his father's aphorisms and is always there, even to carry the strapping hero's luggage up the mansion's staircase (privileged little brat)? Will it be businessman Rutger Hauer who has been "managing" Wayne Enterprises? Are you a man? Would you like to be Brucie's daddy?

Also, I was tired of the writers' efforts to make us wonder whether or not Bruce will live up to the goods deeds of the Wayne family. Apparently the Waynes smuggled slaves by being part of the Underground Railroad and gave tons of money to develop much needed resources in Gotham during the Depression. His dad probably worked in the ER with Dr. Carter. What will Bruce do? Will he hold high the Wayne name? I'm sooooo worried about the Wayne legacy.

I did enjoy some comic touches. He is Batman because he is scared of bats. He behaves like an obnoxious playboy as cover for his real nocturnal activities. His second night of crimefighting ends with him falling out of a building in flames. Wait, was that supposed to be funny? I laughed. Also, a group of ninjas threaten Bruce's life. How does one stop one of these stealthy fighters? Get Alfred to bop the ninja over the head. Yes, be aware of your surroundings. Great job, ninja.

The narrative holes were inexcusable. What happened to the head DA after he gets stunned? Who knows? Did an antidote get spread to the infected part of town? Who cares?

The action scenes were great when shot from the perspective of the criminal when he is about to be swept away by Batman or as the criminal is facing Batman, but the key to an action movie is the same as a Fred Astaire movie: one must capture the entire movement of the body. Fighting is just dancing with the appearance of hurting the other person.

There were too many shots of people grunting just as a body blow was about to be delivered then reaction shots by the person who was hit, but the scenes did not really show the landing of punches. When Batman battles groups of criminals, the audience only sees a flurry of black cape. Batman's elegance is only caputured as his cape billows majestically beside or behind him.

I found it odd that an American pop cult classic was largely permeated with European actors: Christian Bale, Liam Neeson, Gary Oldman, Cillian Murphy, Tom Wilkinson and Rutger Hauer. (I'm not mentioning Michael Caine because a trusted butler usually hails from Great Britain.)

I may be one of the few people who saw American Psycho, but I thought that it was very brave for the casting agent to give Bale the lead. Bale is a great actor and possibly one of the few actors who has played such challenging roles prior to donning the mask. During his playboy scenes, I had unfortunate moments worrying about the two girls on his arm.

Michael Keaton is the best Batman, and when Bale announces, "I'm Batman," I couldn't stop remembering Keaton's performance. I may have been distracted by his great arms, but Bale did a decent job. At this point, playing Batman is like doing a passion play. What more can one do with the role? His parents die. He is rich, but unhappy. He stays up all night in one elaborate costume to constantly risk his life. If it was not for Keaton's memorable performance, I probably would have appreciated Bale's growl more.

Needless to say, Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman did fabulous jobs and showed lots of emotion. I was so happy to discover that Morgan Freeman was not cast as the inspirational Negro (yet again), but was the technological guru behind Batman.

I did not realize that I was so attached to Commissioner Gordon. When I realized that he would play a pivotal role, I almost wanted to scream and cheer. I am so excited that Gary Oldman finally got a chance to play a good guy or at least a character without serious psychological issues. Yeah, he can finally bring his kids to one of his movies.

I am disappointed that someone would cast Rutger Hauer then merely give him five lines. Sigh. I suppose something had to be cut, but I can still be sad.

Katie Holmes. If you don't have something nice to say......

Batman Begins is a welcome antidote to the film crimes perpetrated by Joel Schumacher although Tim Burton's crown is still safe. Overall, I think that it was a welcome edition to the franchise and a nice way to open the summer movie season.

*Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood

Double Dare

I was spoiled by growing up with Wonder Woman and the Bionic Woman. In retrospect, these sheroes were nothing in comparison to their successors in the late nineties to early 21st century. My week was not complete unless I could see some woman kick serious butt, and there was iconic variety: Xena, Buffy and Syd, but I never gave much thought to how these physical feats were accomplished.

For example, I thought that most of the stuntwork in Xena was computerized. The stunts did not look realistic, and there was no way one person could do any of them. Leaping across a huge chasm, jumping from tree to tree or fighting on a moving ladder is obviously impossible. Buffy and Syd's stunts may have required careful editing, but the moves were still possible to execute given enough takes and flexibility, but Xena was just campy fun.

So I was transfixed by the first scene of Double Dare, an excellent documentary about two stuntwomen. It starts with Zoe Bell, the Xena stuntwoman, dressed in an immense red kimono and set on fire while being turned like a whirling dervish in mid-air and propelled into the other side of the room.

The film is mesmerizing. Jeannie Epper is in her sixties and may be best known for her work on Wonder Woman. She still does stuntwork despite donating her kidney to one of her actor friends. Double Dare shows Zoe at the end of her stint as Xena and facing the prospect of looking for her next gig as a stuntwoman and finally entering Hollywood. It may have taken a little finagling by the filmmakers, but Jeannie mentors and helps Zoe get her first film gig as Uma Thurman's stuntwoman in Kill Bill.

Even though Jeannie warns Zoe that Hollywood is full of phonies, this movie makes it seem possible to find a comfortable circle of friends. Perhaps that view is a testament to Jeannie's character. She helps Zoe meet casting people and even lets her stay in her house. Within a few seconds of their initial meeting, they whisper and confide in each other like family.

Still, life is not easy for a stuntwoman. It is unbelievable that Zoe could be unemployed after doing so many insane stunts on Xena. Jeannie is not chosen to be a stunt coordinator despite her vast expertise in the area and still has to hustle a job from the guys that she taught. There is no denying that Zoe and Jeannie are the best in the business, but the business seems slow to recognize it.

Stuntwomen still have to be concerned with their looks and weight more than their male counterparts. I was kind of annoyed when Lynda Carter, perhaps accurately, said that Jeannie had issues with self confidence. I'm sorry, but a woman in her sixties should not have to face whether or not she needs liposuction to continue hurling herself from cars. Stuntwomen are expected to be as buxom and beautiful as their "acting doubles."

Also, because the action heroine is expected to wear very little while kicking butt, the stuntwomen cannot put on as much protective gear as the stuntmen; thus stuntwomen are liable to suffer more serious injuries, which may have long term effects on their career.

This film only focuses on two of the many stuntwomen who add more excitement to our favorite movies and shows. As someone who has unwittingly enjoyed their work for years, I want to thank all the fearless stuntwomen for suffering through these problems and continuing to amaze us each week.

The End of Star Trek

I know that I am not unique in my adoration for Star Trek or one of the biggest Star Trek fans. Actually I will not miss Enterprise per se, but what it represents.

When my brother died, I spent the night watching the Aliens series of movies because it is what he would have wanted. He loved Star Trek, and I probably would have never seen an episode if he did not sneak in an episode when mom was not around. Mom is the only member of my family who does not get why everyone loves this show. She sees it as a show with adults walking around a cardboard set with ugly makeup on.

Star Trek is the last optimistic series in existence. I do not understand how any one as old as Gene Roddenbury, who also worked in the television industry, managed to believe that the ideal was possible. By watching each Star Trek incarnation, anyone could deduce that he really believed that regardless of difference, historical animosity and other insurmountable obstacles, ultimately people would be able to unite in an effort to make our universe a better place. He believed in showing the nobility of a cause. He could imagine a universe with no hunger, greed or prejudice.

Yet Roddenbury started this series in the 60s! I can't imagine believing that any of this was possible during a decade of assassinations and war. While others were protesting with their bodies wedged in between a lunch counter and a group of raging racists, he protested with his imagination.

Roddenbury's imagination has continued long after he has gone. He has influenced so many generations. The first Star Trek episode that I saw after my brother's death was a syndicated repeat of The Next Generation's The Dark Page. I just cried the entire time, and every once in awhile, inexplicably I will cry while the theme song is playing. Tonight was no different when I heard my favorite part of the theme song, the voiceover "to go where no man has gone before." Each time that I viewed a Star Trek episode, regardless of whether or not the episode was humorous or grave, it could potentially elicit such a response.

I'm just 29, and I do not share Roddenbury's hope for humanity. Every day, original sin seems to trump humanism, and I despair over the little ways that human beings commit suicide: by driving an SUV, by not caring for their families and by not thinking that every decision makes a difference. My hope lies in Someone other than humanity, but I can appreciate that regardless of our beliefs, Roddenbury shares that same hope and never allowed it to be extinguished.

I am glad that Roddenbury did not live long enough to see a world ruled by ignorance and hatred of science's efforts to save Earth from global warming or to witness the most devastating terrorist attack known to mankind. We are the unfortunate ones because Roddenbury was a beacon of imaginative reason who could perhaps convince those with hardened hearts to do the right thing.

I hope that his vision will not die with the last episode. Thank you Gene Roddenbury for keeping hope alive!

Told You So! More on Yellowstone, the Supervolcano

http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2005-05-09-yellowstone-volcano_x.htm

Happy Mother's Month

May is Mommy month for me because it is Mother's Day and my mom's birthday. Oddly enough, the month had a rocky start because Mom went on strike. Let me explain. Mom lives with me in my condo. Saying that she lives with me is an important distinction because people often ask me, "Do you live with your mother?" No. The phrase, "living with my mother," implies that it is her house and rules, and that I'm some kind of loser who is too immature to take care of myself.

When I say, "My mother lives with me," I mean that we have spheres of influence, but ultimately, it is my condo. I'm an adult, and it is a daily part of my routine to balance being grateful for all that she does while simultaneously saying "No thanks," to her careful ministrations.

If you have ever returned home to stay with your parents and discover yourself reverting to the role of a child, then you may understand what I mean. I constantly have to remind her that she has a life of her own; that she can do what she wants; and she no longer has to do things for me. This admonishment does not stop Mom from making all the meals, throwing out the garbage and keeping the house clean. So we implicitly divided our duties along those lines--I deal with the outside world, and she deals with the inside.

I'm really lucky because whenever I call my friends who live by themselves, they find themselves helpless in front of a slow defrosting whole chicken. I don't have to struggle with deciding what I'm going to have for dinner or clean the bathroom. I always have clean clothes. I am grateful for all the countless ways that Mom makes my life easier, but there are some negatives.

For instance, some of her foibles are typical Mom behavior. She has instructions on how everything should be done-from how to wrap lunch, where to place the water and food in the refrigerator and when to throw out the garbage. If you don't do it her way, she will keep saying something until you do it her way or helpfully tell you why it is the best way to do something.

Some things are less cute. Mom is always worried that something may happen to me so she likes to know where I am at all times. So my cell phone may ring constantly, even when I am not permitted to answer it at work. If I don't answer, then when I am able to return her call, it can take ten minutes to convince her that I am really at work or where ever I was supposed to be. Once I come home, she expects that I will spend every minute at home with her. I like spending time with her so I compromise by devoting part of Wednesday night with her and the entire evening on Thursday (also known as Mark Burnett night); Friday or Saturday and Sunday.

If she does not get one of those evenings, it does not matter what I do. I am not going to have any peace in my home. She cannot be dissuaded when I ask her to put it in perspective. After all, parents usually do not get to spend every day with their adult child and are lucky to get a call.

If you have not read C.S. Lewis' The Four Loves, I suggest that you do so immediately. He characterizes the scenario perfectly, and when I read it, I knew that Mrs. Fidget often made guest appearances in my home. So when Mom became frustrated with my lack of attention, claimed that I didn't appreciate her and went on strike, I was delighted.

In the end, it was the best week ever. Mom did not anticipate what torture it would be for her. I responded to her "strike" by not responding to her less than reasonable demands and insisted that she follow through with her threat. I prepared my own meals while she asked me questions to make sure that I was doing it right. "It smells like it is burning." "It is just fine," I mumbled back with a mouth full of food. When she thought that I was not looking, she would clean my dishes. I still spent time with her, but only when I was available. I returned her calls when I felt like it. Because my attention was not in response to her immediate demands for attention, I hope that she valued it more.

Today was the end of her strike, and she is utterly relieved. She finally accepted some dinner that I made in her honor days ago. She is free to do what she loves, which is apparently to make my life better. I love her and do appreciate it. I just wish that she would remember C.S. Lewis' words: "We feed children in order that they may soon be able to feed themselves; we teach them in order that they may soon not need our teaching."

Mom, you are more than a mother and more than what you do for me! This is the time in life when you can do whatever you want! Please accept my gift of freedom. Don't worry about me. I'm fine, and I'll be right here.

Update: Upcoming Open Studios/Art Walks

Last weekend, I spent both Saturday and Sunday walking in the rain to see the artists featured at the Somerville Open Studios (SOS). SOS featured over NINETY artists so it was impossible to see each one, but I made valiant efforts to do so with a good friend from law school, Dr. Esq. By the end of the weekend, my feet just ached, and I considered myself fortunate when I was physically capable of walking on Monday.

Yesterday, Dr. Esq and I went to the Fort Point Art Walk. The difference between Open Studios and an Art Walk appears to be the number of artists featured. We started at 12:30 PM and were finished by 4:30, which is a record! It was rainy and windy so we were often the only visitors in the artist's studio.

Next weekend, North Cambridge will have its eighth annual open studios. The weekend of May 21st and 22nd is going to be insane because the Brookline Open Studios and the SoWa Art Walk are scheduled for the same days and time. The East Boston Open Studios is scheduled on June 4th and 5th from 12-6PM.

Remember, you don't have to buy anything or know anything about art so get out there, wear some walking shoes and start exploring your neighborhood!

Words To Live By

"Tana, I see a woman who wants to put beads on her shirt, and that's not what I'm all about"
-Donald Trump

I'm Having An Affair

I'm cheating on my dry cleaner! Gotcha! Well, that's what it feels like. I like to frequent local businesses, and there are two on my way home.

The best tailor/dry cleaner in North Cambridge is the one and only Jack's Tailoring and Dry Cleaning, 1937 Mass Ave, Porter Square, Cambridge, MA 02140, (617) 868-8339. Jack Papazian is not only courteous, but is a miracle worker when it comes to rehabilitating outfits that seem beyond repair.

I discovered Jack's when I stopped thinking in bulk. I used to go to a Harvard Square dry cleaner, which shall remain nameless, because that business would dry clean clothes, but only charge by the pound. An excellent choice for the impoverished yet fashionable student, but not so great when a certain special dress gets ripped, and it remains in the seamstress' dusty pile of clothes for over a month.

I decided to spend a little more, but it was worth it. All dry cleaning will cost you a lot unless you use Dryel so if you have to go somewhere, go to someone who possibly cares more about your clothes than you do. Seriously, Jack usually does not even need the receipt. As soon as he sees me coming through the door, he has gathered all my clothes and started chatting about how the local businesses are doing.

Still, I am always tempted to stray. When I moved to my condo, there was one closer to my home with nice people who open early every morning and wave hello. Unfortunately, they also found it extremely taxing to sow a button on the opposite side of the button hole on my pants suit and decided to use it as an example for one of their assistants as what not to do. They asked me to return three more times in the span of two and a half weeks because they "forgot" to show the mistake to her, and they thought she would not believe them if they did not do so. The last time, I was rather insistent when I politely explained that I would take my suit back now regardless of whether or not the button was attached. In a matter of seconds, the button was on, and my suit was ready.

Such encounters do not stop me from straying unfortunately. When I just want to dry clean a lot of clothes and there is a special promotional deal, I go to Zoots. I usually get a coupon book, which reduces costs significantly. In addition, it is apparently environmentally friendly. So at least when I have to cheat on Jack's, I can console myself that it is for mankind.

Law & Order: Trial By Jury

I am addicted to any television show with "Law and Order" in the title. I know that I am not the only one because even The Simpsons made a passing dig at the franchise by showing a commerical for "Law and Order: Parking Ticket Unit" in one episode.

Like most people, I considered the original series the best of the fleet. When Special Victims Unit (SVU) started, it was weak on the Law, strong on the Order. Even though the story lines were compelling, I felt a little disturbed that someone thought up all those realistic and creepy crimes.

I never really felt like Criminal Intent (CI) was truly part of the franchise. It basically seemed like a Vincent D'Onofrio vanity project so he could show off his acting chops, but in the end, I began to watch each spin-off faithfully.

So when Trial By Jury (TBJ) started, I knew that I would lose yet another hour of my life each week to watching it. Even if it wasn't a Law and Order spin-off, I would have watched it to see the legendary Jerry Orbach's final performance.

TBJ is my favorite of the bunch, and I'll admit that it is because of the two female ADAs. One scene in the episode titled "Truth or Consequences" sealed the deal. ADA Kelly Gaffney is prepping a witness. This witness committed a crime and struck a deal to get less jail time, but he is also an entitled teen punk who finally loses patience and screams, "I got a headache BITCH." Gaffney is slightly startled, but without missing a beat, the more experienced ADA Tracey Kibre, played by the impeccable Bebe Neuwirth, stands up, gets in this tall guy's face and shouts, "Shut up and sit your ass down!"

YES! That is so my life. OK, I do not deal with criminal cases, but this show finally deals with the reality of being a litigating female government attorney. It is no accident that every TBJ plot twist involves people saying, "Those women don't know the law" or "The defendant is running circles around those chicks." Even their colleagues urge them to back down or settle a case.

McCoy never faced such indignities and is constantly assumed to be the authoritative voice of the truth. I remember that during college, his face literally represented the ideal lawyer in signs posted throughout campus encouraging students to become attorneys. I don't think any criminal, fictional or otherwise, would dare to get in Sam Waterston's face, but it is true that the chicks don't get any respect.

Let's get something straight. I get this kind of treatment from men and women, attorneys and pro se litigants. One time, one guy, who clearly knew that I was an attorney, tried to hand me his empty Coca-Cola can to throw out. "The garbage is over there, sir."

While I was asking the judge to jail one Defendant, the Defendant replied, "This young lady won't even talk to me." I just thought, "I'm not here to ask you how you would feel if I asked for jail. And this young lady is going to throw your butt in jail." And he did end up in jail.

Every week, someone utters under their breath, "What a bitch!" At first, I found it shocking, but when I hear it now, I just think, "Yeahhhhhhh!" When a woman does her job, she is a bitch. When a guy does his job, he retains his name. I'm just THE BITCH, and now, I look at that epithet as a badge of honor.

When people aren't calling you bitch, they are trying to be "helpful" by telling you that you can't do something or that you don't know what you're doing. It is true that the law changes, and I am not omniscient, but the last time I checked, I've been an attorney for more than a few years. These people aren't my supervisor or working on my cases so thanks, but, um, no thanks. If I did not know what I was doing, I would ask the appropriate person for guidance, not the person across the table from me who may or may not be an attorney or have something to gain by changing my mind.

Also, perhaps it would be a good idea not to condescend to or curse out the person who may monitor your case for its entire duration. Honey vs. vinegar. Look into it. If you are rude, it may not affect your case in the near future, but if you don't obey the court order, as an officer of the court, I have to enforce the law, but I have hundreds of cases to monitor. Whose case am I going to notice first? Whose name or face will I remember? Being distinctive is not always such a good idea.

And don't try physical intimidation. Following me around the courthouse and yelling at me is not going to work. You are not the first person doing it, and you won't be the last.

In addition, please bear in mind that I am not the only one in my office who has had such experiences. I have witnessed my fellow female colleagues experience this type of treatment, regardless of how senior they are. For example, my former supervisor routinely gets screamed and cursed at. Other attorneys schedule her cases without her consent on her complaints!

So in the end, I'm rooting for TBJ! Show the world what a couple of bitches can really do.

Check Before You Pay

April 15th is not only a day of weeping for those who have to pay Uncle Sam, but a day of rejoicing for those receiving a refund. Every person and business wants to separate you from this annual cash source so do not be surprised if you get a notice from a collections agency requesting that you pay a certain sum of money for a debt that you do not recall incurring. Before paying it, please read the following.

In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, you are entitled to get a free credit report from each of the following agencies:
Equifax 800-685-1111
TransUnion 800-916-8800
Experian 800-583-4080

Each agency uses a different format to present the information in your account and may show different financial information so it is a good idea to order one from each agency annually on a date that you will always remember, such as April 15th, your birthday or Christmas.

According to a friend from Bible Study, if you would prefer to streamline your credit report requests, then visit AnnualCreditReport.com to request a unified form from all agencies.

If the collection agency's debt is not listed in the credit report, it may be a scam. Please look at the following Commonwealth of Massachusetts' Consumer Affairs and Business Regulation webpage. Once you locate the applicable section, report the scam to the appropriate authorities.

If it is not a scam, contact both the collection agency and the holder as shown on your credit report if the contact information listed in the correspondence and in the credit report differs to insure that you are settling with the correct entity and therefore improving your credit history.

In addition, if anything on your credit history does not seem correct, contact the corresponding credit reporting agency and report the problem as instructed in that agency's credit report.

Update re: City Video

On April 11th, I wrote a little elegy in honor of our dearly and suddenly departed City Video. Congratulations to the former manager of City Video, Eddie Shaw, who is apparently opening up a new store, Movies on the Menu, in Arlington. He will offer the joy of movies in a cafe setting. I haven't checked it out, but good for you, Eddie! We're rooting for you.

Supervolcano!

For some reason, a lot of television shows are discussing the danger that lurks beneath one of our nation's most valuable treasures. From ER to Alias, every drama litters its dialogue with tales of potential woe for half of the United States of America.

Magma is bubbling underneath the ground and is threatening to emerge in a terrifying explosion which will only leave a gaping caldera, i.e. a cauldron-shaped depression, where once Yellowstone National Park once stood and would lead to dire global consequences--another ice age! For once, television is not exagerrating. Of course, this event may not transpire for another thousand years or so, but it is still a threat.

Fortunately, our friends at the USGS (United States Geological Survey) have provided a wonderful webpage dedicated to the Yellowstone Volcano; however, if you would prefer to keep such research limited to television viewing, the Discovery Channel recently aired the docudrama, Supervolcano. Unfortunately, I do not have cable so I will have to settle with the detailed webpage with a scientific veneer until the DVD is released. Mmmmm, veneer.

Hawks, Possums & Raccoons, Oh My!!

One morning, I was on my way to law school. As I turned left off of Mass Ave and walked along Everett Street, I looked up at the parking garage. I felt eyes staring at me, but I did not expect to see something that seemed supernatural.

It looked like a R.A.U.S. from the Princess Bride. It was part pig, part porcupine with a huge rat tail & odd eyes. It just sat on the ledge of the second story of the parking lot, staring out at me. I was a little frightened because it did not look like a real animal, and there were no other witnesses. For the first and only time in my life, I thought it was unfortunate that I did not take drugs because I had nothing else to explain why I was hallucinating.

When I described this encounter to others, they looked at me like I was crazy. Finally, a few days later, after some research, one friend put me out of my misery and said that it was a possum. A possum!! I had never even heard of such a creature.

I know that I mention this fact a lot, but I am from NYC. If we have possums there, I did not see them. I'm sure it's possible, but like all creatures from NYC, we keep to ourselves and try not to attract our neighbors' attention.

Still, it is a surreal experience to discover that you are always in close proximity to fantastic creatures that you have only seen on television or glanced at in an encyclopedia. Years later, my law school friends and I joked about possums. We discussed it with cab drivers on the way to the movies. Possums adorned the greeting cards exchanged on birthdays. We celebrated how cool it was to encounter nature in the concrete jungle.

It does not end there. My condo has two bedrooms, and I chose the room with the best view as my bedroom/office. It may be smaller, but it was worth it. I enjoy watching the squirrels execute acrobatic maneuvers to get food off the farthest branches or doves coo in the morning.

One sunny weekend afternoon, I glanced outside my window and noticed a huge furry animal in the tree and recognized it soon thereafter. A raccoon! In the day! There were a group of people pointing at it from the sidewalk, but I had a front row view. I called all my friends, and everyone had a theory. Rabies? No. After an extensive search on the web, I discovered that it was not uncommon.

The raccoon was not my only encounter with wildlife. During the week, if I had the day off, I would notice a large bird, probably in the raptor family, land on the antenna in the building across from me. I don't have binoculars so I used my video camera to zoom in and get a better look. I only saw a fuzzy brown splotch.

One Sunday, two weeks ago, I glanced up and a huge hawk was surveying the land from the branch of a tree adjacent to my window. You may think that my awe is misplaced, but a hawk is not a pigeon. Hawks don't exactly appear in neighborhood parks to be fed bird crumbs.

I love that I live right off of Mass Ave and can still hear crickets, but Cambridge isn't special. I was fortunate enough to see a majestic Peregrine falcon perched on the 22nd floor of a big Boston law firm. At a North Shore commuter rail station, as I was going through the daily routine of walking to the train, I noticed a large, furry, adorable brown blob of a creature peeking out from a hole underneath a building.

I didn't care if I missed the train. I was not going to have another reenactment of the possum encounter and blindly grasp for a word that embodied the experience. I asked every passerby what it was. Each one was delighted at the sight, even though few could answer my question. Finally, one commuter replied, "It's a groundhog."

It is remarkable that these creatures exist, and that we live with them. I feel honored to witness them going about their daily commute, just as fascinated and curious, apprehensive and tentative, as we are. As the weather becomes warmer, please take this time to notice your smaller neighbors from afar. If you keep your eyes open and walk slower to the next appointment, you may realize that you don't need to venture into the wilderness to see wild animals.

Tax Day!!

I love filing my tax returns. No, I am not Katherine Hepburn in Adam's Rib or one of those classic black & white films. I really do.

When I was a child, I was always puzzled why people went to H&R Block. Once a year, my mom, like so many busy people, waited until there was a mad rush, dashed down to the local H&R Block, waited all afternoon for her return, then found out how much she would have to pay. (I don't know what it is about living in NY, but I have never met any New Yorker who actually received a refund. I am sure those people exist. I just believe that I do not know any of them.)

My mom went to H&R Block, not because she could not decipher the tax code, but because she was convinced that H&R Block was part of the shadow arm of the IRS, and she treated H&R Block like Tony Curtis in Hollywood Babylon. Tell all and let the audience sort through it. She had nothing to hide because she believed that cheating on your taxes was tantamount to a civic deadly sin.

I think that she is right incidentally. I was partly influenced by her rah-rah attitude towards the IRS, but now that I work for a state agency which will remain nameless, I could not agree more. Why should I pay so the tax cheater may have nice roads and free health care? If you disagree with how the government spends our money, then vote differently. (Oh, wait, you already have.) We are paying far less than the average European.

I also think that being an attorney helps. When I took Tax Law with Professor Warren, literally one of the best professors at HLS, I knew that I was hooked. I may not practice tax law, but he certainly made it tempting. His class was always full even though his class was at an insanely early time for the average law student, 8 AM. (Now, that I have to wake up at 6:24 AM, I realize how pampered we were.)

In addition, I am blessed to usually get a tax refund. Positive reinforcement helps. I had to pay one year, and if I did not save money regularly, I imagine that it could make my financial situation rather precarious so I can sympathize with people who feel robbed of their life savings.

Nevertheless, I love filing my tax returns. On February 1, I immediately assess my situation. Did my employer mail my W-2? Did any of my financial institutions forget to send me a 1099? Did all my student loan "providers" post my 1098 online? Where are my receipts for charitable contributions?

Once I know that I have everything, I usually spend a leisurely Friday evening surrounded by piles of paper while typing in numbers on my little calculator. The IRS and MADOR websites are usually open in adjacent windows on my computer screen. Loud music is blaring from my stereo and/or I am watching something on television.

I do not even consider usuing one of those new fangled tax software programs that the kids are raving about. Instead, I have two sets of all the forms that I need. I do not want anything separating me from the magic. Once I'm done, I photocopy everything so I have a copy of everything. Then I wait breathlessly at my mailbox for the tax refund, which usually arrives two weeks later because I have filed fairly early.

Yes, I am a tax geek, and I don't care who knows. Good luck everyone & Happy April 15th!

Dirty War (2004)

My generation may be called many things, but we should be called The Day After generation. At work, another attorney confessed that he watched T2 just for Sarah Connor's nuclear nightmare.

Even though a nuclear holocaust was a horrifying reality during our lifetime, it was at least entertaining. We were forbidden to watch it because we were too young, and it was too graphic, but of course, we still did. The ending was not hopeful, and everyone was doomed. When the movie ended with Steve Guttenberg's skin peeling, and his hair was gone, you knew that this wasn't Police Academy. This movie was serious and sobering. Woo hoo!

It was only a matter of time before I was reading On The Beach and watching The Omega Man. Yeah, baby. It may be a morbid fascination, but it is a real one. To face death and the destruction of all humanity should idealy be greeted with popcorn. Making death something that can fit on the idiot tube or the silver screen may be one of the most effective ways to cope with realistic terror. If you don't give us realistic terror in entertainment, we will make it up: zombies, monsters and alien invasions.

When I watched the Matrix with my law school friends, the movie's premise was accurate. Business was booming, and the economy was terrific. Our futures were bright, and the possibilities were infinite. We needed to face our mortality in the movies because the only danger we faced was old age.

Then September 11th happened, and these movies hit just a little too close to home. When my wisdom tooth was pulled out last year on the weekend of July 4th (so I could take less time off at work), I was in pain and watching Independence Day for the fiftieth time, but the first time since 9/11. Maybe it was the pain medication, but I found myself weepy thinking about all those poor people before I thought, "What the hell is wrong with me. It's a movie!"

This reaction did not stop me from watching HBO's Dirty War, which was recently broadcast on PBS with a public forum aired after the movie so the local "experts" could discuss the serious issues raised in the film. The old me really couldn't wait to get to the part of the film where the unthinkable happens, and the special effects are unleashed. The new me realized that the old me was too young to understand that this could really happen, and real lives would be at stake.

Sigh. It is just a movie, a good one, but a movie nevertheless. I found myself more riveted by the rangling within the incompetent [British] government trying to balance spin control versus effectively preparing homeland security forces. Of course, spin control wins. If a bureaucrat has to choose between respecting the chain of command or actually making an effective decision, the chain of command is always going to win. Follow the correct channels and don't make waves.

The special effects were not notable, but the human drama saved the movie. It was a little terrifying to imagine yourself boxed into an area contaminated by radiation, and the only way to get out is to wait in a non-existent chaotic line to be stripped naked and scrubbed in front of the world with none of your belongings.

As I get older, different things scare me: unresponsive, ineffective bureaucracies, pushy crowds, public nudity and crazy terrorists. The blast is part of all of that, but not really the problem or the cause. Maybe it is a sign of maturity to recognize that nothing is scarier than crazy people who respect a certain ideology, particularly the ideology of authority over the necessities of daily life.

Elegy for City Video

I was a college student when I arrived in Cambridge. At first, I was alarmed at the prospect of staying in Massachusetts for four years for several reasons:

1. You cannot put your hand in the air and automatically hail a cab. Hailing a cab requires tons of preparation. You need to call at least fifteen minutes before you actually need the cab. You must have a phone number for a taxi company in your town because even if the adjacent town (ahem, i.e. a certain major metropolitan city called Boston) has a cab in the area, you cannot use it. Finally, hopefully, you have a reliable cab driver who arrives on time and does not peel away in a blast of smoke and burning rubber when you fail to hurl yourself out the window to get into the cab at the first honk of the horn.

2. Most restaurants and stores close early. If you are hungry after midnight, tough.

3. At the time, delivery was not usually a viable option for a student. When it was, you would be required to give your mother's maiden name, last three addresses, social security number and your first born child in order to get delivery of ribs. Sometimes four students would pool together their resources in order to enjoy a wing and a rib (I'm Gonna Git You Sucka shout out).

As I grew to like Cambridge, these flaws became less onerous. During my sophomore year, I became a connoisseur of video rental stores. Suddenly Cambridge was tolerable. My favorite video store is still Hollywood Express, which is now so popular, it has expanded to other locations outside of the Porter Square area. On Tuesdays, I would exploit the two for one special and rent 10 videos. On Wednesdays, I would get my free children's video to catch up on all the Disney movies that I did not see.

I was still a member of City Video and Blockbuster, but I did not use them as much. Hollywood Express was closer, had knowledgable clerks and showcased a number of artsy-fartsy films. City Video was a staple store front in Porter Square. It was dark. The sections were less customer friendly. The video plastic protective covers were no longer clear, but yellowing with age.

City Video recently closed suddenly. There was an 8x10 white sheet of paper with a message written in black marker notifying the customers where to put the videos they were returning. There was not even a closing sale of the merchandise.

Last year, I went there once. Alien vs. Predator was released that Friday, and I had only seen Predator, not Predator 2, which briefly alludes to the Predator hunting Aliens! Shocking! I had to see it before venturing to the theatres. Well, the rest of Cambridge had the same idea because Hollywood Express did not have any extra copies in any format. There were plenty of videos and DVDs of Predator, but video dealers had underestimated the public demand for second-rate sequels.

I then went to Blockbuster where I located the one and only DVD of Predator 2. I sat down to study the intricacies of the drug war meets intergalactic invasion when during the last crucial showdown, the only great scene in the movie, the DVD punked out. It would not continue playing. So I called Blockbuster, and the clerk reassured me that there was an extra one available. While still in pajamas, I rushed out my door clutching the defective DVD only to hear upon arrival, "Oh, I thought that you meant Predator. We don't have any more copies of that one." Noooooooooooo!

Now it was a mission. City Video was my last resort, but fortunately, the Predator 2 video was just sitting there, unaware of the sudden demand for it. Maybe that was City Video's problem. I did not use it except as a last resort, but I was always happy to simply look into its windows as I passed it and went to the supermarket. We took City Video for granted, and now, it is gone after many years of faithful service. I am sorry that you are gone.

Happy Belated Resurrection Day

Happy Belated Resurrection Day, i.e. Easter! I meant to write something on Sunday, March 27th to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus or the miracle of bunnies laying colorful hardboiled eggs.

At any rate, I could not think of anything at the time. Now, it seems like a good time to remind people of the meaning of Easter. The Resurrection should not be ridiculed, especially at a time when the news has focused on so much death: from Karol Jozef Wojtyla, i.e. Pope John Paul II, to Terri Schiavo.

Regardless of your religious affiliation or position on right to life/die, everyone has been touched by someone's death. It hurts, and those left behind always suffer. In death, jerks suddenly become revered, and all difficulties melt away only to be replaced by grief.

Despite this sorrow, I cannot help but feel joy for those who have made their peace with death. Right now, they may be gone, but I do believe that the faithful are in a better place. I like to imagine Karol's first meeting with Jesus.

"Wow! We've talked so much, but I am so excited to meet you in person! "

Then I believe that Karol gets a little nervous because after all, it is the Son of God, and He is his Boss. He has very high standards. This experience could be the worst employee evaluation ever! A number of things must pass through Karol's mind, including the nagging question, "Did I do enough?" He runs through his private list of disappointments, which may or may not differ with the public's criticisms.

Then Karol sighs with relief. The promise of the Resurrection is not a shabby one. It is preferable to be reborn better than you were and finally become the person that you were meant to be, the person that God intended you to be, instead of who you were, constantly struggling with sin and easily shaken from your belief that God is with you.

It is a relief to be reprieved by a man who could take the penalty on our behalf and show us how to live and die. It is a miracle to be forgiven by God who can perfectly and eternally atone for all the evil accomplished or considered by every human being throughout time.

I think that Karol and Terri are having a blast. Death is another birthday, and hopefully, all of us will greet it without fear.

Buffets at Indian Restaurants

Much to my dismay, I know many people who automatically turn up their noses at the mention of Indian food. They have no idea what they are missing. In Cambridge, Indian restaurants are more plentiful than Starbucks. If you are one of the cautious, then please read further.

At lunch time, if you go to an Indian restaurant that offers a buffet, you have nothing to lose. First, the buffet cost is low and runs at about $6-15. Owners actually lose money, but the investment is worth it if a patron becomes a frequent diner. Second, restaurant owners purposely showcase a variety of dishes so they can attract patrons at dinner time. If you do not have a taste for spicy or hot food, then the buffet is the best time for you to explore a variety of dishes without fear of committing to a dish that may not suit your proclivities. Finally, an Indian restaurant is the perfect place for carnivores and vegetarians to meet without compromising taste or offending either's sensibilities.

There may be restaurants that have better food or decor, but my favorite restaurants have consistently made strong and consistent efforts to provide a beautiful atmosphere to complement quality dishes.

1. Diva Indian Bistro, 246 Elm Street, Somerville-Davis Square T
Today, you would be lucky to get a seat there, but I remember when it first opened, two people could easily get a booth and not wait at any station of the buffet. The service is still impeccable. The attentive waiters will offer bread and beverages without being asked. Each week, Diva changes the dishes offered, but there is usually salad, tandoori chicken, a curry dish, chicken masala, and a vegetarian dish which usually contains paneer (i.e. cheese). Diva also has a distinctive buffet station: a crepe station! In addition, Diva has the best decor of any restaurant in Davis Square. From the cobalt blue and tan color scheme to the throw pillows in the booths, the decor is beautiful and thoughtful.

2. Passage to India, 1900 Mass Ave, Cambridge-Porter Square or 157 Washington Street, Salem (the latter location does not offer a weekend lunch buffet)
This little restaurant has been in Porter Square as long as I can remember and was recently renovated. Passage to India does something that most restaurants should aspire to: consistently offer great food and lots of it. The wait staff is there when necessary, but does not hover or become an annoyance. The buffet may not have as broad a selection, but the quality of the ingredients shines through. For example, I hate going to a restaurant where I have had a wonderful dinner, but at lunch, I can tell that the owner waited for the buffet to distribute stale meat. It would be better if the owner never offered a buffet at all and threw away the rotting food. Passage to India treats every meal as if it was opening night and welcomes every kind of customer, from the scruffy student to the family with three kids, as if he or she was a food critic.
Buffet patrons should be treated as well as their regulars.

3. Cafe of India, 52A Brattle Street, Cambridge-Harvard Square
I have mixed feelings about this restaurant. It remains high on my list because of a special buffet station that I have never seen at any other Indian restaurant: the pork roast cutting board station. This pork makes up for the occasionally sullen waiters or the opulent yet stiff chairs (the booths are preferable). Occasionally each of my favorite Indian restaurants offers goat curry as one of its buffet selections, but Cafe of India always seems to offer it on the weekends when I visit. Of course, if you think that Indian food is too adventurous, then goat curry probably sounds like jumping off of a cliff. Still, if you have gone this far in exploring a new cuisine, you should keep going.