Used to be…
I don’t know whether I should blog on this, but I will anyway.
I need to put it out there in case things come out difficult for me.
My medicine for depression/anxiety has gradually become less efficacious; I’m on a new medication that will not tell it’s efficacy for another month.
It is frightening when your emotions end up running you.
It’s as if your former self is watching and observing.
As you withdraw from what you fear.
As you, who used to be social, withdraw from anyone you do not already know, because you literally fear to speak to them.
You cry often, over things that make no sense to others.
When you are not terrified, you are angry, taking it out with a potty mouth and broken inanimate objects,
But you have enough sense left to seek medical help and get the medicine altered.
For the job I do, my emotions *must* be in my control for eight hours on the phone. I cannot have a thin skin, I cannot raise my voice, I cannot have a schoolmarmish, lecturing, brusque, weary or exasperated tone, *especially* if customers seem to me to *be* wearying or exasperating.
Those are metrics measured for my performance, not just common sense.
And *on my good days* I find that extraordinarily difficult,
Being nice to people and listening to their concerns is not in fact, *intrinsic* to my nature. I’d rather just explain the problem and fix it without making nice. I do it though, because I am capable of learning and it became a learned behaviour for me.
I submit that since it’s a learned skill and not a natural gift for pleasantry over the phone (which the roomie has in *spades*) it makes it more difficult, even on good days.
Part of my job is to *act as if* I’m cheerful and ready to fight whatever battles the customer wants me to fight for them within company policy.
Right now, I do not run my emotions…*they run me* and that makes me bad phone material.
People who don’t believe there is any such thing as mental ilness believe that every emotional state or action is a conscious choice.
I’m sorry to disagree. A chemical imbalance can be observed, but has to be acted upon medically. If there are situational *aspects* to the depression, therapy helps with that sometimes, depending on the patient, and the therapist.
My emotions take me to completely different places when my meds aren’t working, so that I don’t much recognize myself.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: A Review
Well, just spent the afternoon with Indy and Co….
Do Not Proceed Further if you Haven’t Seen The Film and Don’t Want to Know What Happens Next.
This one slides in *just* ahead of Last Crusade for me, and *only* because of the ending.
Things I liked:
There was clear intention to honor “Raiders and “Last Crusade,” with the nods to Marcus Brody and Henry Jones Sr. (Though I wish there would have been a nod to Salah too, living or not.
(The warehouse! [and the Ark being inadvertently rattled about by the villains and seen by the audience!!!] ) But I’ll come back to the Ark with a problem later.
When they unfolded Indy from the trunk of the car and he stood, in shadow, and put the hat on.
“You’re a teacher?!?!”
“Part Time…”
Tough Marian… Her smile still just lights up the screen.
Unlike some other family members, I thought the vehicle chase in the middle was well done had some good stunt work and made some sense. I remember thinking, “Damn that vehicle Marian’s driving is clearly a dual purpose thing…it’s a shame it won’t acually get used in the …water…” just at the time that the Good Guys get soaked.
Cate Blanchett was clearly having fun as the villain of the piece.
About Indy’s various women-other-than-Marian “They all had the same problem…They weren’t you, honey.” (Swoon)
The *ants!* Normally I don’t go for horror-movie-level-gross-out, but I saw it as Nature taking back her own, and having a really bad mood swing about it.
John Williams music pushed the film forward and made the audience care more. I think I’d be much less charitable if there wasn’t that score there.
And, I loved that…*Indy* is the only one that gets to wear the hat!
Things I was neutral about:
Did we need Ox or Mac? Not really. It would have been a tighter, tenser film without them. Or perhaps leave Ox in, but just don’t make him nutso.
The whole drag race in the beginning made no sense at all. No need.
The heavy handed “Wild Ones” image for Mutt was too much. And why the incessant male diva combing of the hair? The kid’s not Arthur Fonzarelli. But the young actor was likeable and engaging.
Things I didn’t like at all.
Hey! Don’t drag Indy into some dark room and call him America’s enemy. He’s a good guy.
No one could have survived that blast…they wouldn’t have set up a “test town” with a lead lined safety fridge.
What’s with the comrade with the rapier? They didn’t make sense to me together. Good swordswoman and Stalin’s pet? Just seemed odd.
And why show the Ark at the beginning, when it clearly could have opened up and fried every Russian in the warehouse, but didn’t….no, no no…should have been seen at the end, inadvertently.
Things I wished for, that did not happen:
Instead of sending the female villain back to the Twilight Zone…
She and Marian in a small space….the villain threatening to slice Marian to pieces, menacing with the rapier…
And Marian, who has clearly had enough of this babe making trouble for them all, just looks at all the sword waving and whips out a pistol and…well you know the drill.
If you love the first film, this will be a likeable echo of it….but that’s all…..
In honor of Indy….
I ditched the film blog, so I’ll write this here…haven’t seen the new film yet, will do so later tomorow night.
It was some weekend night during November 1981 “Raider’s of the Lost Ark” was still showing….it had gone second run, (something we had Before VCR’S, On Demand or TIVO, children) I was so in love with that movie that I’d seen it twelve times. Twelve, since its original release day.
Usually, my friends who drove would come and steal me away for funthings on the weekends, and they barely had to call. Just showed up, picked me up and we went through the endless permutations of film, dinner, late nite coffee, summer park walking, etc etc. that made up much of my crowd’s group social time.
But they hadn’t called yet, and it was about 6:50 pm, and I was getting sulky about spending a weekend night at home. My mom needed slight (but not much) convincing….she dropped me off at the worn out, comfortable Center Mayfield theater and I paid 1.50 (or 1.25 or 1.00), where she dropped me off and asked me to call when the movie was done, and she’d pick me up…I walked in, got my popcorn and settled down to enjoy Raiders.
Anyone who loves Raiders will tell you of their favorite moments…I had just begun to watch the chase scene, wherein about twenty bad guys with military guns and trucks would be dealt with by one guy on a horse…
“What truck,” says Our Hero when he is told the Ark is on it’s way to Hitler….and begins to chase it down….
Suddenly, a line of at least four people entered the theater, walked down to and entered my row…one of them whispered to me…”C’mon Jean, lets go….we’re going to see a movie…”
“But,” said I, “I’m *in* a movie!”
I allowed myself to be convinced to see “Ragtime”
which was showing first run in another theater.
Obviously, someone had called my home, asked for me found I was over at the Center Mayfield on my thirteenth go round of Raiders, and then made the plan to kidnap me in time for the 9:15 show at the Richmond…I went with them, because I just liked hanging around them…
But I learned two things:
One: Friends *will actually drag you out* slowly, as you back away facing the screen to catch every last bit of the action. And, that you *did* have fun with them, which was your initial point….But even so…
Two: Ragtime was nowhere near the joy of Raiders.
Midlife And Treachery 
