Movie Review: Alice in Wonderland

Last night we saw Alice in Wonderland, and in 3D - always a better option, when available, if you ask me. Sure, maybe the glasses gave me a slight headache for time to time, but it was worth it to jump out of my seat (yes, literally) at the scary parts as the head of some monster or another came off the screen and filled up half the movie theater!

But about the movie.
As you probably know, it was directed by Tim Burton, and his quirky, beautiful, and slightly disconcerting style was fully present. Every scene was breathtaking in its color, detail, and the strange emotions it evoked - from Alice's frightening fall down the rabbit hole (whatever happened to that piano, anyway?) to your first glimpses of Wonderland (actually "Underland" in the movie - makes sense!) I always got the impression that I couldn't see enough before the shot changed - I was constantly sure I was missing something because of all that was constantly going on. It was obvious that SO much time and consideration was put into the making of this film.
The movie begins with Alice in the ordinary world, the same way it did in the book and in the cartoon Disney classic. I do have one thing to say about this - and that is that if you're expecting it to be like either of those, you'll be surprised. I went in thinking that it was going to be more like the book than it was.

Not that I'm complaining, though! The twists and turns of the plot (not to mention the hidden lessons there, having do with current situations going on if you ask me) were highly entertaining and kept me riveted on the screen.

As I said before, I had to jump a few times and T may have lost circulation in a couple of fingers from fearful hand-squeezing on my part, but he's used to that after Avatar.

The performances in the movie were amazing. Mia Wasikowska, who played Alice, kept a light hearted but thoughtful face on during most of the film. She reacted like I'm sure a lot of us do in dreams (which, of course, the character assumed her time in Wonderland to be, after all, she wasn't exactly a little girl). Helena Bonham Carter was crisp and delightfully off-balance as the Red Queen, who you couldn't help but feel sorry for as you wanted her to lose, and Anne Hathaway was lovely and strange as the White Queen (who I recall being much more loopy in the book - I really liked how the loopiness was just an act for the character in this movie, and underneath the vacant expression was a lot more depth and strength than may be expected). And Johnny Depp - what is there to say? As always flawless, endearing, and in this movie, a little spooky from time to time.

So, for the big question, should you see this movie?

Answer: Absolutely! It'll be a good time, and it may make you think. Or it may not, but you'll be entertained either way. And I promise that the headache fades as soon as you take the glasses off, so if you can, see it in 3-D!


Today's quote:
Nothing is impossible. Some things are just less likely than others. ~Jonathan Winters

Chapel Chatter: Flowers in Her Hair

So, technically, this doesn't matter as far as creating bad luck before the wedding because
1) it's not really my dress, and
2) even if it were, it's for the 2nd reception anyway!

This weekend I finalized my order for this beauty:
Isn't it lovely?
Just the perfect thing for my (if you shouldn't be seeing the dress - you know who you are, don't click here) dress!

Brandi over at silver pencils is wonderful - she's quick, friendly, worked with me SO sweetly when making my custom flower, and has a great blog with gorgeous travel pics to boot! Definitely go check out her shop for adorable designs at nice prices!

Hope you all are having a lovely Monday. It's raining here, and I have a full day ahead of sitting in a chair working on my dissertation and tearing, gluing, tying and embellishing wedding invitations. I'll post about 'em eventually.

Till then, happy in-like-a-lion month! He's roaring away here, just listen to that thunder!

today's quote:
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
~John Ruskin

Return to Nature

(this is an excerpt from my daily personal writing, which no one normally gets a peek at other than my mentor and on occasion, T. However, today's pages were calling out to me to cut 'em and paste 'em here, so here you are...)
I long to be outside. Not anywhere particular, just out, in the sun, feeling the breeze, hearing the animals, and all similar such stuff. There is a major problem here though.

I haven't spent aimless time outside since I was a little girl, and I can honestly say that I don't know how to do it.

Up til now, I was satisfied with being indoors constantly, with the fluorescent lighting and recycled air and yucky radiation coming from appliances (yep, you guessed it – hairdryers too) and chemicals from household products, personal products, and everything between. I had no clue any of this was around. Since I can remember, I've been bombarded by all these things (I won't even go into the constant harmful noise that's there, just beyond your attention) until now after years of the constants of that environment, I'm completely unaware of them. Well, not completely, not anymore. Now I'm aware. But I'm still afraid to go out.

Yes, afraid. I think that's a good word to describe the feeling I have. The trepidation about bugs, about winds that are too strong, about people looking at me strangely if I make a spot in the yard my own by sitting there for too long (what is she doing?). About grass stains on my clothes. Heck, after the reading I've been doing, I'm even nervous about crushing grass stems when I sit or lie on them. Goodness knows that, technically, there's really not much point to a blanket – it just keeps grass from receiving life-giving light where the area your body would take up wouldn't cause that much damage as an entire blanket would, and as we all, who've ever picnicked know, they don't keep the bugs off anyway.

It's a silly thing, that going outside in Nature, where we all originated, would hold such anxiety and a multitude of preparational thoughts to just go and hang out. I'm sure that anyone who'd never stepped foot indoors, or who hadn't spent more than an hour or two indoors at any time in the past several years, may feel the same way. Certainly it would feel as if your life were being cut off, if you couldn't hear the “heartbeat” - all the rhythms and noises of your Mother, who you never actually leave (aka, the Earth, Gaia, whatev you wanna call it).

When I was little, I remember being outside most of the time. When it was warm enough to go out, it was too also often hot and boring to be indoors. You can't read books all the time, and besides, there are places you can go to escape out there.

When we lived on Carroll Street, in the two story white wooden house where rats and/or squirrels lived in the wall and would scratch, scratch, scratch a couple inches from our ears just beyond the wood paneling at night, there was a tree that I hung out with.

It was outside, to the left of our porch if you were looking at the house. The “driveway” was there, although we always parked out front anyway, so it was a quiet spot. Brush and other trees were growing between our property and the lumber yard next door, and right on the edge, next to the fence made by this flora, was the tree.

It had a knot where a branch had been cut off a long time ago, and which still oozed sap sometimes. In retrospect, I guess it didn't heal all that cleanly. I would climb up to a spot where the two main branches forked off of the trunk and sit for a long time, seeing the sun shine down between the leaves, feeling the breeze against my skin, and feeling so at home there. That, in fact, may have been a place that felt the most like a real home to me over the course of my entire childhood.

Years ago someone had put a chain around the trunk, maybe to keep a dog tied up – people did that a lot in the South. You never think about how sucky it must be for the dog, usually because they're mean and bark at you. You're just glad that they are chained there, and can't rip a chunk out of your leg. But I guess I'd be pretty ornery too if I had to stay three feet from the same spot all the time. Some people never unchained their dogs. Yuck.

Anyway, a chain had been put around the tree long ago and now, because the tree had grown, its bark buckled and strained around the chain which grew ever tighter as the tree grew ever larger. I'd pry at it with my fingers, trying to get it loose, unable to. I asked my Dad to help once, but he was too busy (he probably didn't have a tool that could cut through the thick chain or the thicker lock anyway – I should have asked more people, as some of my relatives were bound to have something that could help). I remember looking at that painful metal, cutting into the tree, and feeling so hopeless and helpless. I knew it hurt. As I type now, the emotion comes rushing back to me and I'm feeling still guilty, wondering what would happen if, the next time I'm in Virginia, I go up to that property with a big chain cutter – would anyone mind? Would they think I was a crazy person? Would it matter?

Anyway, I never got the chain off. And by the time we moved, I was getting more interested in inside, teenage girl things like makeup and lacy bras and hair spray. But now, I'd like to get outside again.

It seems I probably should have been doing that the whole time anyway. But now, going outside isn't natural at all anymore. I wonder whether it's better to start slow or just dive in. I wonder how many other people feel the way I do.

Two nights ago, during the full moon, Terry and I sat across from each other, discussing what we wanted. He asked me what I'd do if I could do whatever I wanted, money, convenience, things like that were no object. I said that I'd travel until I found land that spoke to me and build an Earthship and live there, like that, learning about the plants and the land and God, in that way, and that I'd eventually want to start a family there. He didn't know much of what to think of that. Neither did I. Where did that desire come from? But it feels right, and I know that it may be the next big stop. Or, it may not. I just have to wait and see. Until then, I'll wait for my little apple seed to grow (which I planted last night) and my sunflower too (same thing), in their indoor pots using outdoor soil and getting lots of encouraging whispers from me, and I'll go out when it's warm this afternoon and do some reading. I think that's as good a start as any.

Right Now

I received this in an email today from my good friend and classmate, named Yukari. She always has the most positive and upbeat outlook (may we all strive to be more positive and upbeat, no?)

Anyway, it was just so fantastic that I figured anyone stumbling across my blog would enjoy it. (sorry, I don't know the author.)

As you read it, let yourself sink down into the truth of these words - you'll like it :)

Right this very moment, on a distant farm, there basks a fig, a nut, or a berry, whose very life force will soon be your own. But that's not all...

Right this very moment, there's a gorgeous home on a splendid property with a spectacular view, whose roof will someday give you shelter. But that's not all...

Right this very moment, there are beautiful souls on your beautiful planet, whom you do not even know, yet through your meanderings and theirs, paths will cross, love will be shared, and eternal friendships will be created. I'm still not done...

And nothing you do, or don't do, can prevent these serendipities I've just shared, and so, so many more.

Amen, hallelujah, rock me Amadeus -

The Universe

(you can also sign it God, the Tao, Goddess, Allah, Jesus, whatevvv. Same difference, when it come to things like this!)

Deliciousness

This afternoon, I made my very first EVER loaf of from-scratch bread.

My Dad used to occasionally make bread when I was little, and the smell was divine.

As this was gluten and yeast-free bread, the delicious smell was not quite the same, but delightful nonetheless.

I was quite proud of myself.

I felt quite domestic as T came around the corner, commenting on the olfactory yuminess, and I met him there with a plate of warm slices adorned with this:

I must say, it did feel nice.

By the way, here's the recipe.

Happy Monday!

Today's quote:

"Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all."

~Harriet van Horne

Virus

Ugh.

As of Friday night, on my to-do list is to go pick up a z-pack for my yahoo email account.

I got a virus.

I sat with T in the living room Friday evening, watching a documentary, and heard the bleep from his laptop that meant he had a new message.

"Oh, it's from you."

...I didn't remember sending anything...

But, knowing me, I wrote him a line and forgot about it earlier in the afternoon.

He opened the email, which had a blank subject line (unlike most emails I send), and-

sure enough, there was a random infected link there. All alone, in the email.

As it turned out, that email was being sent to EVERYONE on my list.

Everyone.

There are people on my list I haven't talked to in years. There are some that I barely even know. Lord, there are ex-boyfriends on there!

Geez.

I got at least one snarky email back from a former acquaintance, and of course that cued an avalanche of guilt and embarrassment.

Those feelings continued deep into the night, after I shut down my computer to stop thinking about it (and that now, as I type, has a slightly different display...I think it's time to format this baby), until...

Wait a second.

Why in the world should I feel embarrassed about getting a virus in my email? Goodness knows I didn't do it on PURPOSE. For that matter, if someone is going to get angry at me for something like that, I daresay that this is not an individual that I'd best be friends with, right? I mean, that seems a little funny to me.

Besides, why should the behavior of random virus-spreading trickster folk in any way reflect mine?

The likelihood is that, in looking for wedding inspiration, I've clicked on an image on a corrupted site somewhere. And now, I'll re-format my computer and all that in order to get the bug.

But, as of now, I ain't worrying about it anymore.

Whatev.

Owl Sex

...yes, that says what you think it says...

Last night, after a long day of shopping and making decisions, I wearily reached for the dental floss, the bathroom door open behind me as Terry sat at the desk strumming his guitar.

You see, I really don't like shopping, not much at all with an exception or two, and I hadn't been doing regular shopping, I'd been doing wedding shopping, which, I'm sure you can imagine, carried more stress inducing possibility than most shopping excursions. There was a dress fitting (during which I tried on my dress, walked out into the room with the mirrors and box to stand on, and thought, oh no. I don't like it. The fact that I took a deep breath, blamed it on hormones and/or low blood sugar, remained silent and moved on is beside the point. Not liking it was a bit scary, and again, stress inducing), shoe shopping for the all-important wedding shoes (which are sitting in my closet, unconfirmed as the ones), searching for the right jewelry and a couple of gifts to mail out (you'll now who you are when something comes in your mailbox!), and halfway successfully something to eat that wouldn't make me nauseous (going uber healthy makes you basically physically unable to eat nasty food - you get sick. Good for the abs, bad for the mood) which ended up with a bottle of Kombucha sitting next to me in a car cupholder that took an HOUR to open because of unruly fizz...

Let's continue.

So I was reaching for the floss.

T was strumming his guitar, learning a new song.

-Charis! Listen!

I turned around and came a couple of steps into the room.

-Huh? (I was tired and grumpy and by God just wanted to brush my teeth, take off my makeup and crawl into bed, maybe play some Sudoku, and hit dream land)

That's when I heard it. T ran the pick across the strings then laid his fingers across, silencing the guitar hum. A moment later, I heard a hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo coming from outside.

An owl! So cool.

Then silence.

Terry plucked a string or two, then silenced the guitar. Another call.
-I think he's talking back to me!

And the owl was. This continued on for some minutes, with us getting more excited by each interchange, and wondering where the owl actually was - it had to be sitting in a tree outside one of our windows. So we shut off all the lights in the room and quietly opened the wooden blinds, trying to peer out into the sliver-mooned darkness and see our new friend.

That's when it happened.

There wasn't just one owl, now there were two! We realized this as the guitar went forgotten on the desk chair and we crowded the windows, trying to see, listening to a conversation between the owls.

-Maybe they're mating! I said. By mating I meant courting - like when you see birds chasing each other and tangling in the sky, their joy nearly tangible.

T thought I was being more literal with my words.
-Owl sex. The words came with assurance out of the darkness beside me, and after a beat or two, my knees buckled and I nearly slid to the floor consumed by silent giggles.

They were sounding more urgent, after all.

We looked at each other, eyes wide, as the calls continued, more in sequence.

About then we decided to give the frisky owls their privacy and I made my way back over to the light switch, after telling T that his last words would be the title of my blog post the next morning.

And so they were.

The end.

image source