Thanksgiving Day

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I went to my parents' home about 4:00 in the afternoon to enjoy a pleasant dinner with them and my 75-year-old uncle Dave.

The dinner was quiet and small. We ate turkey, ham, green beans, cole slaw, biscuits, yams, cranberry sauce, dressing, and biscuits, with pumpkin and apple pie for dessert. I know, it sounds like a lot, but my mom has become quite adept over the years in creating a relatively stress free Thanksgiving meal.

The chatter over dinner was familial and friendly, with the murmuring of the local news in the background. My uncle talked a lot about his dog. I promised my parents a christmas gift list (for myself) and received one sent by Alicia to my parents.

Tomorrow, they are off for a week in Palm Springs, at their time share. Their anniversary is coming up shortly. Number 35! Wow...

Not that many years ago, our Thanksgiving parties were large and swarming with life. My parents would invite Alicia, Dorene, and Brian, and their families filled with small children. My uncle would be there, and maybe Camelia, and the kids would run all over the house.

For quite a few years, my parents and I would drive up to the home of Mémé and Pépé, first when they lived in Hawthorn, and later in 29 Palms. They loved their family, in a genuine and folksy French Canadian way. Many were the dinners we enjoyed there, along with Aunt Janet and her children. I remember the walks around their neighborhood in the splendidly parched desert. It would be cool and dry at this time of year, and after the huge Thanksgiving repast, we'd play Euchre, Spades, or a funny card game called "Screw Your Neighbor." Oh, and there were dice games too.

Even earlier, when I was 16, my parents dropped me off at Gram and Gramp's in Linda Vista, while they took off in their brand-new, racing yellow 71 240Z to get married at Lake Tahoe. I don't remember much of that Thanksgiving, except that it was a break from 10th grade at Kearny. We attended church then--at the proud gray hall of the Linda Vista United Methodist Church.

Times change, yet the event endures...

The thing that occurs to me about Thanksgiving and other annual holidays is that they are kind of like the movie "Groundhog Day" or that new TV show, "Daybreak." The holiday recurs over and over, essentially built of the same ingrediants, yet it subtly changes over time due to the influence of every single event that has occured in our lives over the past year.

The event repeats, yet it is different. The cycle continues and yet it changes, till one day we are no longer around anymore to participate in it, yet the cycles revolve and evolve into the indefinite future...

To all who participated in my life over the past 51 Thanksgivings that I have dwelled on this Earth, I send my deepest and most heartfelt thanks. I cannot name you all, but you'll live forever in my memories.

Day Break

Last night (Saturday) my friends Donna and Tom came over and we ate some really good Vietnamese carry-out food (spring rolls, barbecued shrimp), drank wine followed by coffee and Carolans, and watched a French movie. The movie was titled "Poupées Rousses" (Russian Dolls) and was the sequel to "L'Auberge Espagnole."

The great thing about many European movies is that they concentrate on believable characters and avoid both the trite and melodramatic. The film's characters carry it, and any good story centers around its protagonist(s). The film had a rich cast of excellent actors who carried off its premise with aplomb.

Meanwhile, I also enjoyed the first episode of Daybreak last Wednesday evening. The story is a lot like Groundhog Day, but is very dark and sinister. I will be quite fascinated to follow it through to the end, which I hope won't be too contrived. That's the only problem with a program with such an artificial premise: it can only end in a few ways, and the payoff will be diminished if the ending is too unbelievable or cliché. A few of the ways Daybreak can end:
· It was all a dream.
· It was all an hallucination.
· The protagonist is dead.
· The protagonist is a character in a movie/TV show/video game and doesn't know it.
· The protagonist is bouncing among alternate, parallel universes.

If the writers can avoid the worn-out clichés mentioned above, then the payoff could be really good. I'm looking forward to following this story through.

Meanwhile, last Thursday night I gave my final presentation for the Presentation Skills class. To complete the project, I reworked my old talk on MT and Localization, to be more of a basic intro to MT. It went well, and Bonni only took off 5 points for "slow pacing." I could have argued with her about it, but one must choose one's battles wisely. Besides, Bonni rocks and I always respect her opinions.

Tonight the Chargers play Denver at 5:00, and my parents will be coming over after Mass for dinner and a movie. Tomorrow, it's back to work for moi!

Things Im Thankful for For

Things I'm Thankful for on my Birthday

Here are some things I’m thankful for, a list of my life’s positive elements. Approaching my 51st year on this small, blue orb, I’m thankful for:

• Surviving that accident from 2004. There was a time when it would have taken me an hour to feebly type this sentence with one finger.

• Related to that, my strength and health. Yes, I know the able-bodied may look askance at me, but I am happy with the way I am, the way God made me. There must be a purpose in it, and I remain ever-anxious to discover it.

• My family. My parents are still relatively young and healthy. I could not have survived and thrived without their support and love. And my step-sister Dorene and her boys, my nephews, and husband Richard.

• My friends: Harold, Donna, Marina, Tom, Bonni, Jacque, Katie, Monica, Nancy, Alicia and Tien, and so many others. You all rock!  

• My new job. Bonni came into my life from out of nowhere and has blessed me with a new start on a career as a writer.

• My creative talents. I’ve been a little negligent with them since May, but I resolve to continue my growth in that area. I refuse to hide my talents under a bushel basket!

• YOU!! My special friend, there is some purpose in why we met. I cannot fathom all its depths. We are stronger together than we are separate; that is your reality and mine, as I’ve come to experience it.

The Depths of the Stereotypical

The Depths of the Stereotypical

Last night I was watching DOOM on HBO. It's a pretty bad movie--I was surprised it received two stars. It was a pretty good recreation of the classic FPS game, and The Rock pulled through with his usual performance.

But what the film most made me think about was, why there is such a market for B-rated genre films (and books). Why do people eschew the "good" for the "bad" in fiction? I think it's partially because the "rules" of modern fiction are a 19th and 20th century fabrication. Since the era of Sigmund Freud, psychological realism has served as the foundation of any successful narrative art form.

Yet, throughout most of literary history, what we perceive as realism has not mattered to the artist or his/her audience. I'm thinking of, for example, the No plays of ancient Japan, the Greek tragedies, or the myths of Near East Semitic peoples. What matters in these works is not the struggle of everyday men and women against ordinary reality, but rather the Meta-Reality of life's purpose, the meaning of the universe, life and death.

B-movies SF and horror movies, which rely on form much more than substance, reach back into that ancient world of Heroes, Gods, and Demons. The flat characters serve as a reassuring base from which to probe life's mysteries (and miseries) without succumbing to despair. Genre fiction is the mythos of the Age of Science.