Deep Thoughts: Part II

To file under the "random ramblings" category:

How is it that if you're sitting up straight for the majority of the day, working diligently on a computer, you end up with a crink in your neck? Weren't our necks designed to stay in the "upright, locked" position? And why do we call it a "crink" anyway when it's still straight?

What is it about being tired that loosens the tear ducts so that's it's easier to dissolve into hysterical laughter and wind up crying as if the joke was the best you'd heard in a good long while, when in fact it was probably only mildly funny, but you were just so tired you couldn't stop laughing?

How on earth do children have so much energy to run around like little turbo-charged engines, and why is it the sight of them doing so makes those watching them feel old and exhausted?

If daytime is essentially the time when it's light outside and most people are awake, at their busiest, why refer to the the 24-hour period which includes several dark hours when people are dead asleep as a "whole day?"

Is it just me or does no one else think it's weird for a so-called "White" wine to actually be pink?

Why do they say "the taxman cometh" when, in fact, it's the citizen that has to do the cometh-ing? Last I knew, H & R Block wasn't making house calls.

Deep Thoughts: Part 1

I think we can all agree that hot soup was made for rainy days when you are desperate to take the chill off. Soup-and-sandwich, whether that be tomato-and-grilled cheese or Panera's Broccoli & Cheese with a turkey artichoke panini, is practically perfect in every way.

But I personally hold that ice cream also tastes better on rainy days. And judging from the brisk business Papa Jack's in Victor was doing tonight about 7 p.m. in the misty drizzle, I'm not the only one who thinks so. And for some reason, this is especially true for soft-serve. If you want your twist-in-a-cone to be especially delicious, I recommend eating it under some kind of canopy or awning where you're still "outside" to enjoy it, but the rain isn't ruining your palette's parade.
I dare you to try it.

Besotted by Books

For readers of the ReD Zone who don't know me that well, I have a confession:
I am addicted to books.

It doesn't matter if they are online, on the shelf at a bookstore or my local library, I can spend hours-- HOURS people!-- browsing titles, skimming chapters inside, and blinking my contacts dry comparing this selection with that one, then turning a corner only to find -- aha!-- an even more intriguing book. Do I want "1,001 Commonly Misspelled Words" or "The Busy Girl's Guide to Looking Good? Both are awfully practical .... hmmm .... And hey, which"Rival Crock Pot's Slow Cooker Recipes" is the better buy, spiral-bound or the fun, hard-back "shape?" I mean, both are $7.98. Get me inside almost any major bookstore and you -- er, the sales clerks-- are guaranteed I won't leave without spending money. Usually a lot of it.

My friend Emily and her mom have the perfect signature phrase to describe the compulsive shopping impulse that takes over: "I blacked out and when I woke up, all this [__item of choice__] was in my cart." They fill in their "blank" with toys for children; I fill mine in with books. Neither one of us comes to until we're in line to check out. Even then, it's near torture putting something back in a half-hearted attempt to hold out for a far lower price at half.com.

Let's put it this way: a visit to my sister's in PA feels incomplete until I've gone to the bookstore less than 10 minutes from her house (I'm sooooo jealous!). My family pretty much understands that once I head that way, they won't see me again for a few hours, or more likely, an entire afternoon.

And you know it's an addiction when you've already put in a 9-hour day and yet, for some odd reason, the wheels of your car just magically turn toward the nearest bookstore. That's what happened tonight. Forget tired. Forget rushed. Barnes & Noble requires a bit of stopping to smell the roses, so to speak. The one up near my "new" office in Pittsford has a sale annex and several shelves of used books, where I scored Emma Thompson's "Sense & Sensibility Screenplay and Diaries" for $4, among other worthy deals and steals. (That's right, hook me with one of my favorite movies, packaged in book form, and I'm done for.)

And since Pittsford's B & N also boasts a Starbucks cafe that not only serves coffee, but panini sandwiches, strata and cheesecake, well, let's just say I'm set. I could easily spend an entire day, or, I venture, entire week inside without getting bored or hungry. I'm not kidding. I do imagine, however, I would ultimately leave flat broke. But I'm sure I'd be smiling.

Hi, my name is Rachel D. and I'm a (book) addict. And now, if you'll excuse me, a screenplay is calling my name.

An "Amazing" concept

Despite the appearance of being one of those "dry, boring, period piece" movies, here is why I think today's Gen-Xers, Gen-Yers and Generation Next-ers should embrace the new release, "Amazing Grace."

How many of us innately hunger for a life with meaning and purpose? The man at the heart of the film, William Wilberforce, absolutely embodied that. Who wants to have convictions? Real ones, that withstand time, repeated defeat, unpopularity, and even the political fringes of war? Wilberforce could give lessons, and in a way, this film delivers them. One of the early, noteworthy lines that stick with viewers (and several in it will) comes from a friend who reminds our hero that his devotion to his cause (in this case, the abolition of the British slave trade) has taken his youth, and his health. Who among us today would sacrifice either? And what kind of cause could possibly be worth it?

Here's a guy who literally gets ulcers after reading a letter from a fellow abolitionist about the brutalities seen against Africans on foreign soil. Here's a guy who'd rather fold his cards than take his rightfully-earned kitty of cash because an opponent has included his African butler as payment. Here's a guy haunted by visions of slaves bound-and-chained in the reflections seen from his mirror. Here's a guy so depressed after years of defeat and yet still so impassioned about the ongoing injustice of it all that he nearly bites off the head of the pretty young thing he's recounting his tale to. She tells him that's a sign that rather than trying to force himself to swallow injustice that is so distasteful, he should spew the poison out.

I daresay, I know peers that would give their right arms for that kind of passion, vision, verve. Had they a man to emulate like that, one grounded in the steady resolution that peaceful, moral, honest life cannot be lived unless a singular evil is completely eradicated, I do believe society might not know what hit it. And that is compelling stuff, because, as we learn from the film, what grounds Wilberforce is not his cause, but his faith. He knows his Creator, the same being whose workmanship he sees reflected in spider webs and wet grass, did not order a world where a man would enslave and dehumanize another man. That kind of conviction is utterly calm, and at heart, unshakeable, though all hell (ill health, war, false accusations from former friends) conspire to shake it. Is it any wonder Africans who never met the man called him "King" Wilberforce?

I love the history in this film. I love the humor in it (and yes, even the threads of romance.) I love how the power-hungry nuts that are so hard to crack with the god's-honest truth finally succumb to the weight of it. (Refc: 'noblesse oblige'). I love that people who may never have known the origin of the world's most famous hymn, likely performed most regularly on the bagpipes, can finally discover it was written by a repentant slave trader. By the end of the film it should be clear to the audience this man truly would have gone to his grave without regret had he never lived to see the fruit of all his labors. If that's not a hero, I don't know what is.

But don't take my word for it. Go see for yourselves.

And now, the real question ...

No, not will Scorsese win director? That was a given.
Not will Helen Mirren give a classy speech that comes in under the 45-second rule? Also a given.
But, is it even remotely possible to keep the Office Oscar?
I honestly don't know .... It doesn't bode well. In prior years, I've missed an average of six or so categories. This year, it was 10. Oy. My partner in crime, at least as pertains to the Column Central Oscar Review Crew, also missed 10. I find it hard to believe no one else in the office would not have bettered that statistic.
It'll be tomorrow before we know for sure, though. I expect I'll be conceding the little guy to someone completely unexpected .... we shall see.