The Struggles of an Optimist in the Second City

Many of you probably have never heard of Robert Evans. He was a B-movie actor of the 1950s who went on to form Evan-Picone with his brother Charles and was then selected by Charles Bluhdorn, the chairman of Gulf + Western, to run Paramount Pictures in the late 1960s and into the 1970s. Under Evan's watch, the studio went from last place to first with hits such as "Rosemary's Baby," "The Godfather", "The Godfather Part II", "Love Story", "Chinatown", and "Goodbye, Columbus." His memoir, "The Kid Stays in the Picture" is an amazing and insightful read, and is filled with all sorts of great lines.

For example, Evans was personally selected by Norma Shearer, the wife of the late great Irving Thalberg, to play Thalberg in a film about the life of Lon Chaney, "The Man of a Thousand Faces." Being a neophyte, Evans loved watching the dailies, those pieces of film that had just been shot. He noticed, however, that his co-star, James Cagney (who was the star of the picture) never had any interest in watching the dailies.

Evans asked Cagney: "Mr. Cagney, I noticed that you never watch the dailies. How come?"

Cagney replied: "Kid, the dailies don't mean anything. You can shoot a great shot, but it has to cut together in order to make a great movie. Why do you think there are so many beautiful brides and so many ugly wives?"

Very sexist comment, to be sure, but one could just as easily substitute "groom" and "husband" into the equation above to make the same point. We always hope for the best and try our best to succeed, but it takes hard work to get to where we need to go. Cagney's point was simply that just because you shot a great scene does not mean the hard work is over; rather, it means that the hard work is just beginning. One has to believe, however, that the payoff is worth it.

I am surrounded by friends who are in varying stages of their law careers. Many have yet to find a job, and this sort of difficulty can be maddening when one considers that they put in so much time and money to get their degrees. The economy, the corrupt politicians of Chicago, and the lack of a credible career services office at my alma mater have a lot to do with it. One of my friends has departed to become a scuba instructor in the Bahamas. Another works at Macy's trying to make ends meet. Yet another was THE reason (yes, I believe that she was the SOLE reason) that North Carolina turned from red to blue in the last election, but even SHE has been denied a job.

I am also surrounded by friends who actually have their dream jobs, yet are unhappy with them. It is almost as if they struggled to attain the goal, climbing the mountain carefully and dodging all of the hazards-only to find that view from the top looked out onto 3 brick walls and a Denny's. To be sure, some have their dream jobs and LOVE them, but at the same time, where is their fairness when their dream jobs involve the most beneficial of public services yet does not pay them enough to pay off their education loans?

It is difficult for me to feel happy about my own situation when I know that people I care about are struggling. I am 37 and had a long "career" as a student before I finally attained my goal. I do love my job, and I am well compensated for it. However, this success did not come overnight and had MORE than its share of paycheck-to-paycheck struggles and debt. I wore the same wardrobe until the shirts and pants became tattered and frayed. I lived on a student budget for over 14 years of my adult life hoping that it would all pay off. I could tell by virtue of smell alone the type of Ramen noodles someone might be cooking. I would stock up on pasta sauce when the cheap stuff hit $1.00 a jar because I knew that that would be several meals. I could not afford to eat out at all and did not have cable TV. I had a car, but I hardly drove it because I was scared about possible repair costs. During all of those dark times, I never gave up hope. I was an optimist of the worst kind, but it paid off. Many of my friends only came to know me once I arrived at law school, but the person I am is a direct result of the struggles I experienced during graduate school in Baltimore.

I am still an optimist, but with so many friends unhappy during this holiday season, my optimism is being tested. I know that I did not want to see such things when I was a student. Such things only served as stark reminders of my own lack of accomplishments at that time.

The only thing I can do is remind my friends that they have at least a decade on me. They already have their degrees and can go back and get more degrees and STILL end up ahead of where I am at 37. The 1990s for me were one long blur of laboratory work and scientific writing. I would hate to think what would have happened if I gave up hope and just accepted my situation.

Success does not happen overnight, but when it does happen, the struggles that one has had to endure will make the experience that much sweeter. With the friends that I have, I am confident that they will find their success sooner rather than later because they are incredible people.

The Artful Mom

Imagine, if you will, a young woman from South India. She meets the man of her dreams at the tender age of 23 and is married to him at the tender age of 24. He is 28, quiet but respectful. He has dreams of escaping the provincial life that would be his as a mountain top physician in India. Raised on films from the West, he knows that his best chances for success would be time spent in either England or the United States as a physician. She is close to her family-extremely close, and the two families are at odds with one another soon after the wedding. She knows that if they stay in India, their marriage would be in jeopardy. Her husband hatches a plan to go to the United States to escape the family in-fighting. She acquiesces. In December, less than a month before they are to depart, she finds out that she is pregnant. She knows that her father, a powerful attorney for the Indian government, would not let her leave if he knew this. She confides in her mother, who keeps the secret.

The couple embark on their journey to the United States. The wife cries the entire flight, homesick for the only place she has ever known. Her husband tries in vain to comfort her, but he is worried as well. He only knows that they have temporary positions. He has no idea of where they will be living or what to expect. All he knows is that she is his responsibility.

On a snowy January day, the couple reach Friendship Airport in Baltimore, MD. All they have with them is a small suitcase with some clothes and clothes hangers as well as $40 between them. There is no one to meet them at the airport, so they have to call their employer to ask what to do. Slowly, they start to adapt to the culture. Every day, the couple fights and every night, she cries herself to sleep. She is only 24, pregnant, in a strange country with a man she has only known for less than 2 years. There is no family around to support her during her pregnancy and no friends for that matter. Furthermore, she is a working physician who is putting in many long hours. This is the 1960s, before maternity leave was a part of the lexicon. The women's lib movement was just gaining steam. The wife is oblivious to all of this, for all she knows is her husband, her job, the child that is growing in her belly, and the loneliness that is being in a strange place without the support system she grew up with.

Time goes on, and she gives birth to a beautiful baby boy. However, the wife (now mother) is worried. After all, she does not know who to trust with her most precious thing in the entire universe. She has found a lot of joy in her baby boy, but her job as a working physician in the 1960s does not allow her the luxury to stay at home with her son (something that would be a completely different story today). There are news stories about depraved babysitters drugging babies to keep them quiet, and she fears for her child's safety. With her only thought being the safety of her child, she makes a decision that will haunt her for the rest of her life. She bundles up her 6 week old child, the most precious thing she has, and sends him on a plane to the waiting arms of her parents. She cries for weeks, and her husband comforts her. The sadness brings them closer together, and now she has a reason to work. She wants to get to the point where she can bring him back as soon as possible. Two long years later, that finally happens.

Her heart is broken over and over as her little boy hardly knows her. With time, however, that changes. She still regrets the lost time. Imagine, in this time before video recorders, missing your child's first steps, first words, first EVERYTHING. Her heart aches when she thinks about this, and she finds the greatest joy in hugging her little boy. She and her husband still talk of moving back to India eventually. Another child arrives, and this time the wife can spend time with him. She has made a life in the US, with friends who care for her. During her pregnancy, however, her husband has to return to India, for his father is deathly ill. The husband struggles with his decision, for he knows that he should stay with his pregnant wife. However, she is not the helpless person she seemed to be when they arrived 3.5 years ago. She is stronger. She insists that he go to his father's bedside. Her boy becomes the man of the house, and she endures a summer without her husband and pregnant. He comes back in time for the birth of her second son, and the family is complete. She is strong, and she has so many friends. She is gratified to find that her older son is SO protective of his little brother (something that would continue well into adulthood).

While struggling with a new culture and so many challenges with a new marriage, she has found success in her career. The family decides to stay in the United States and becomes citizens. The wife and mother starts a solo family practice in a small town in Virginia in an area that needs primary care physicians. She runs the household, she runs her office, and she is always there for her kids whenever they need her.

The years roll by. Her husband has a successful career as a surgeon, working longer hours than she, but she takes care of everything (the household, the kids and her own career) without complaint. Her oldest boy graduates at the top of his high school class and goes on to a top college and medical school. He does his residency at yet another top school and becomes a successful specialist in Chicago. Her younger son also graduates from a top school and becomes, for a time, a career student before finding his calling as an attorney (also in Chicago). She is there every step of the way, supporting both kids with her time and advice. At the same time, her medical practice is thriving. Over the years she sees her patients, the kids of her patients, and then the grandkids of her patients. The baby wall in her office (that bulletin board of the pictures of babies she has treated in the womb and out) is overflowing with stories. Her husband retires and repays her by taking care of HER and letting her focus on her work while he cooks, cleans and takes care of the family finances.

Finally, after 32 years as a solo practitioner, she decides to retire and enjoy her remaining years in happy retirement with her soulmate. To her, he is still the quiet, respectful man she fell in love with 43 years ago. Her children are happy and successful, and that is what gives her the greatest contentment. She has lived her life for the three men in her life, and without her, the three men would have been nothing. She has been the most amazing role model, the perfect image of the independent woman combined with wife and mother. True, she still has regrets. She sees her older boy and visualizes him as the 6 week old that she sent away, and her heart aches still. She sees that her sons live far away, and she wishes that were not the case.

On the whole, however, looking at the life of this woman, I challenge anyone to say that she did not live the most amazing and fulfilling life. To this day, she is still full of life and smiles for all who cross her path, and I cannot believe my fortune sometimes in having her as my mom.

So as she prepares to retire this December, I thought it important to share her story. The story SO FAR, that is. Isn't it amazing? Isn't SHE amazing? I think so.

Dear Idiot Socializing Fat People at the Gym:

You annoy me. You piss me off. I mean, there I am, trying to get my plump ass back into shape and you are standing around right in my line of sight talking and conversing loudly for 20 FREAKING MINUTES!! Don't you know how distracting you are to someone trying to concentrate on exercise? Don't you realize that there is such a thing as personal boundaries? Don't you know how BAD YOU SMELL? Sheesh. It is not as if TALKING is any great form of exercise.

Here's a hint for you: the "club" in health club is NOT the same thing as the "club" in dance club. People are here to train and workout, NOT socialize for hours. Sure, you can socialize, but try to do it away from the workout floor where people are trying to get a workout in and stay in their zone. Here's ANOTHER hint for you: people do not like having to squeeze past your smelly selves. WHY DO YOU PLANT YOURSELVES IN THE MIDDLE OF A WEIGHT ROOM THOROUGHFARE? MOVE!!!! And, finally, hint #3: if you really wanted to get in shape, you would know that one of the goals in a workout is to maintain an elevated heart rate for a sustained period of time. TALKING DOES NOT DO THIS-well, unless the conversation makes you angry. Neither one of your smelly selves seemed to be mad.

Please take note of this, and move your smelly selves out of the way for the good of everyone around you, but especially for the well-being of my plump ass sweating oh so hotly on the machine right next to you.

Sincerely,

Artful

"Quantum of Solace" = Ehh....

Ever since "Casino Royale" reignited the Bond franchise with a much needed reboot of the Bond story, I looked forward to the next chapter. As a life long Bond fan, I found Daniel Craig's portrayal of the famed literary character a refreshing change to the status quo, and I loved the origin aspects that the producers brought to the table. Advanced word on the next film in the Bond series, "Quantum of Solace" suggested that this film would be the first true sequel in the franchise's history. The story would begin a mere hour after the final scenes from "Casino Royale", with the interrogation of the villainous Mr. White. The producers continued with the same screenwriting team responsible for the last film, Paul Haggis, Neal Purvis, and Robert Wade. It seemed as if this iteration of Bond would last more than one film, and I was excited for the possibilities. What sort of tortured moments for Bond would we see in the wake of his beloved Vesper's death? What kind of storyline would the writer's craft? What would acclaimed director Marc Forster ("Finding Neverland") bring to the table in his first true action film?

Unfortunately, "Quantum of Solace" is merely a collection of great moments that "might have been". The audience is, indeed thrust into the action immediately after the studio trademarks flash on the screen, and we are with Bond as he is racing in his Aston Martin DBS through a winding Italian roadway. During this first chase scene, I started to get a little concerned. It seemed that Marc Forster had decided to lift a page from the directing playbook of fellow director Paul Greengrass ("United 93", "The Bourne Supremacy". and "The Bourne Ultimatum") in that Forster used jump cuts and quick edits to convey action and intensity, with the overall result being disorientation for the movie watcher. Instead of being treated to an exciting chase, I was treated to flashes of what looked to be an exciting chase that was marred by this MTV style of movie making. I have already ranted about Greengrass' failure to utilize Moscow in the car chase scene in "Bourne", where Greengrass treated us instead to shots of Matt Damon shifting gears in his car. Here, it looked to be more of the same. I was disappointed in Forster's style as soon as the chase popped onto the screen.

The opening credit sequence itself was underwhelming. There was no opening gun barrel (it would appear in the end). Moreover, though it appeared to play with the motif of the Bolivian desert, the reintroduction of the silhouetted nudes juxtaposed with a too flashy constellation motif made me feel as if I were in a combination strip club/planetarium in the desert. This was a shame, as I rather enjoyed the theme song performed by Alicia Keys and Jack White. This seemed a step back from the opening credit sequence in the first film.

From there, the audience is treated to (SPOILER WARNING):

1) Bond's chase of a double agent through the streets and rooftops in an Italian town. I think I liked it better when I saw it in "The Bourne Ultimatum" when it was Jason Bourne and Tangiers.

2) Bond's close quarters battle with an assassin prior to his first meeting with his female "partner" for the rest of the film and the main villain."

3) A boat chase sequence every bit as disorienting as the car chase from the earlier part of the film.

4) A HORRIBLE montage sequence of a running gunbattle at an opera, with the shots of Bond's battle matched up with a soundtrack of the opera being performed. YUCK! Forster is no Coppola.

5) Two truly forgettable Bond girls who could not act their way out of a paper bag. Eva Green's Vesper really set the bar high for Bond women. The casting here was a swing and a miss.

6) The setting of the final battle. A hotel. In the middle of a desert. Run by fuel cells. What the heck????? Why make a return to the "giant explosion of the bad guy's base" cliche of earlier Bond films?

7) The lame plot of the villain itself. The villain, Dominic Greene, is attempting to extort money from governments of the different South American governments for their water supplies. The sole instance we see of the impact of his actions is a shot of a few villagers not able to get water from a spigot. Oooooo-scary! Very disappointing villainy.


To be sure, there were some aspects of the film that I enjoyed. Whenever Dame Judi Dench's M was on the screen, the scenes cracked with sharp writing and sharper acting. The homage to "Goldfinger" was affecting and powerful at the same time. I also loved the dialogue concerning how governments deal with people who would normally be considered villains during the Cold War. I particularly loved the line "If we could not deal with villains, we would have no one left to deal with." The moral ambivalence on the part of all parties save for Bond and M rang true, and I loved the emphasis on this ambiguity. One of my favorite moments of the film occurred at the opera (before the abhorrent gunbattle). Bond is attempting to discover the identities of the members of Quantum, and he sets up his post looking at the audience with a pilfered Quantum earpiece, listening in on the conference that is going on within the audience itself. After listening in, he announces his presence, and as the members of Quantum rise from their spots in the audience to make their escape, Bond photographs many of them and sends the data back to the MI6. This was a smarter Bond, not one who was a bull in a china shop. He has LEARNED from the last film the importance of surveillance and the importance of working as part of a larger team.

My other favorite sequence was the final one in the film-Bond's confrontation with Vesper's Algerian boyfriend. Personally, I thought that it should have been near the beginning of the film. The sequence also saddened me because it appeared to have been shot by Martin Campbell as a coda to "Casino Royale." Why could the rest of the film not have done the same? Instead, the audience was left with mishmash of plotlines that do not mesh well together at all.

I was disappointed in this film. Although I would not go so far as to call this "The Bond Supremacy", as so many reviewers have done, I can see where they are coming from. Filmmakers need to get away from this method of action filmmaking. The film also needed more character development sequences. Everytime there was the opportunity (with a favorite being Bond's inability to sleep on an overnight plane flight to South America), the filmmakers dropped the ball in the next scene. Here's hoping that the writers and director for the next Bond film will take a look at what worked in "Casino Royale" and bring the character back to greatness.

Craig is still Bond in my book. He just needs the stories to let him prove it.

What The Heck is WRONG with Consumers?

Over the last few months, all of us have been battered with what seems like an endless barrage of news concerning financial meltdowns. First, it was the subprime mortgage market. Next, it was the debt market that relied on the subprime mortgage markets. As banks and financial houses continued to fold, the stock market started its tumble. As consumer confidence eroded, credit slowed to a crawl and then stopped. Small businesses can no longer get the loans required to start up. Without the small businesses, people cannot get jobs. Without jobs, people cannot purchase durable goods or invest in the future through the stock market. Unemployment is skyrocketing, and the odds are that we have not seen the worst of it. The so-called "bailout" programs being touted by the current administration and Congress promise to leave so much debt on the American ledger, with no clear cut plan as to how this debt should be paid back, that I fear our children and children's children will be paying the price for our mistakes.

Yes, I said OUR mistakes. A lot of ink has been wasted writing on how the banks are to blame for giving out mortgages to people who should not have qualified in the first place. Of COURSE they are to blame, those evil "predatory lenders" who "trapped consumers" and caused this housing crisis in the first place. At the same time, I feel that not enough attention has been paid to the duties of the individuals to take responsibility for their own actions. Many individuals no doubt knew that there were issues with their income levels and possibility of repayment, yet they took on an inordinate amount of debt without doing the necessary research required. STUPID STUPID STUPID! Don't try to tell me that "these were unsophisticated buyers" who "were waylaid into unfair terms by evil doers." Many of these buyers know exactly what they need to to to manipulate the system. Their mistakes are what we are paying for now, not just those of the banks and other financial institutions. The bailouts will allow these individuals to walk away scott free.

Now a lot of you will read this and merely think that I am spouting off about stuff I know nothing about. I mean, I am more fortunate than a lot of people. What I do know are the lessons of my youth. I know of people who could not afford food and shelter yet were working and spending their money on designer clothes. I know of college kids who rang up incredible amounts of debt on credit cards and then were "shocked" when they were unable to pay. YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO PAY MONEY BACK-SOMETIMES WITH INTEREST!!! Geez. How simple a lesson can that be? Now, I know that there are a lot of hard working people, some of whom are friends of mine, out there just trying to make ends meet. I know that they do not HAVE credit cards or have regular mortgages that they struggle to pay each month. Is it fair to them to have to pay for the mistakes of others?

I was raised in a household where the operative mantra was "save save save." My parents were relatively successful, yet you would not have known it by looking at us. We did not wear designer clothes or have designer accessories, my brother's first car was a $500 1973 Plymouth Duster with a CB radio (in 1985) that was sold later on for the exact same amount. I have had a job of some sort continuously since I was 14 years old, and I have saved every step of the way. Even today, I have some hobbies that people might consider a waste of money, but I ALWAYS put 10% of EVERY paycheck into regular old savings. Nowadays, this is a lot easier than in the past, but I did this even when money was extremely tight. At those times, I did without. Even now, however, I am trying to find ways to cut expenses (not easy in a city that has the highest taxes of any city in the country-including NY). My bills are paid off first every month and THEN the savings go in. I factor in the amount I need for food and transportation, and then I look at what is left. Starting in February, that means student loan payments. This month, I cancelled my 10 year (!) comics subscription solely because I felt that, at this point, it was a waste of my money. Through all of my struggles, from a student on through graduate school and while paying for law school, I have never had to depend on ANYONE to pay my bills. I managed on my own and took pride in that fact.

The name of this blog is "Rants and Ramblings", and this post is a little of both. Today, I saw the news that consumer groups are trying to convince Congress to allow banks to forgive CREDIT CARD DEBT. WHAT? REALLY? So pretty much, the people who are responsible for putting us in this situation get a FREE PASS? Whose fault is it that they are in so much debt? WHOSE? Not mine! Yet, I am paying for someone else's designer clothes, expensive dining out habit, or comic book habit! Is that fair to me? Is that fair to those friends of mine who are doing without credit cards and living paycheck to paycheck?

I agree that something has to be done to help the economy, but I do not support a wholesale bailout of companies nor of individuals saddled with credit card debt. Sure, give them the money to get out of their current situation, but DON'T make it a gift. Make them pay it back. Garnish wages. Garnish company profits. Make the stockholders decide whether or not a company is being fiscally responsible. Only by taking responsibility for the current crisis can companies and individuals learn the easiest fundamental truth about economics: if you spend more than what you earn, you will be in DEBT!!

In honor of the release of "Quantum of Solace": my previous post on "Casino Royale"

I am actually going to write a new, more in-depth review for "Casino Royale" tomorrow. Does it hold up after repeated viewing? What aspects about it particularly appealed to me? Why should you care? After that, look for my review of "Quantum of Solace" on Saturday evening. Now, here is my original post on Daniel Craig's first Bond film.






My father and I have always enjoyed movies. I credit Dad with instilling in me an appreciation for the craft and artistry involved in making movies. I don’t think that Dad knows that my lifelong appreciation for movies began the summer between 5th and 6th grade. During the school year, my father had purchased a very heavy and exotic looking device that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a giant tape recorder. My father was excited about this giant box, and my brother and I could not understand why. Our confusion lasted as long as it took for my Dad to put a tape into the box and press “play.” We found ourselves watching a movie on TV. We were able to pause it so we could go to the bathroom or get snacks. My mind was really blown away when my Dad was able to play a TV show that had been on 2 nights before. Wow. The family VCR was definitely a hit, and I think that we were among the first adopters of the new technology. Dad, in his infinite wisdom, had even chosen a VHS machine instead of Betamax. His decision was highly prescient. Our love affair with the VCR intensified upon Dad’s purchase of a video camera. Now, we were able to film all of our family’s special moments and watch them instantaneously instead of waiting weeks for Super 8 film to develop. No more setting up the projector and the screen. It was all so awesome. I know that, in a world of tiny camcorders, digital cameras, and DVRs this all might seem a bit trite, but I grew up in a time where we had 3 channels (6 after Dad set up a UHF/VHF antenna). It really seemed like magic to me.

The VCR was also the way that Dad and I bonded. My parents were very good about choosing appropriate films for my brother and me (resulting in me not seeing “My Fair Lady”, a “G” rated film, mind you, for a few years because Henry Higgins yells the word “Damn” several times). The real fun came during the aforementioned summer when Dad took my brother and me to the video store, the Video Discount Warehouse, located in Portsmouth, VA. This was a time before the ubiquitous Blockbuster Video, Hollywood Video, Erol’s, Movie Gallery, and Family Video. Every Wednesday, Dad would take us there and let my brother and me choose movies. I still remember how the films had stickers on the spines (red “As” for new releases, blue “Bs” for slightly older releases, and green “Cs” for old releases and kid films). Dad would always let my brother and me choose the maximum 6 movies, and he did not limit us to the most inexpensive lists. Sometimes, he would gently make suggestions if we could not decide. I used to look forward to my Wednesdays with Dad because they were true bonding times. Neither of us was into baseball as many fathers and sons are, so we bonded over films. I think that, except for my love of science fiction films, we have a pretty similar taste in movies to this very day.

One of the films that we rented that summer was a recent blockbuster, “Octopussy.” Up to that point, I had only watched part of a James Bond film, and it had bored me to tears. The film was “From Russia, With Love,” and I remember when it was broadcast on ABC falling asleep while watching it. I also remember my parents’ amusement at my comment upon viewing the moment when Bond, fresh from the shower with a towel around his waist, finds Tatiana Romanova in his bedroom, sits down on the bed, and starts his seduction. My comment? “Wouldn’t he be embarrassed if his towel fell off.” Hey, I was pretty young, so I didn’t quite get the sexual overtones of Bond. I think that my parents were both amused and comforted by my naivety. Anyway, “Octopussy” was available, and we rented it. I was mesmerized from the first moments of the film. Roger Moore became the Bond of my childhood the moment he flew out of Cuba using the tiny jet in the pre-credit sequence. The next time we went to the video store, Dad let me rent the max number of Bond films. I devoured them over the next few days. My favorite Bond when I was a youngster was Roger Moore; I think that a lot of this had to do with the foppishness of his performance. As a kid, you never want to fell as if the hero is really in any danger, and I never felt that Moore was ever in any danger.

Time went on. As I reached my teen-aged years, Moore gave way to Dalton, and my appreciation for the performances of Dalton and Connery grew. My appreciation was born both out of a more mature appreciation for how the character was portrayed (with me wanting more realism from my action heroes) and out of my appreciation for Ian Fleming's original James Bond novels. Connery came closest to Fleming’s description of Bond, and and I later learned that Fleming, impressed with Connery’s portrayal of his creation, introduced a Scottish background into Bond’s backstory during the writing of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," which coincided with the filming of "Goldfinger". Dalton took his cue from the Fleming novels, but subpar screenplays and having the role of the follow-up to the popular Moore (not to mention a long drawn-out lawsuit concerning the character of Bond), proved to be Dalton’s undoing. I always felt that Dalton received short shrift for his portrayal, and it is not deserved. He did the Fleming Bond proud. Between the last Dalton film, 1989’s “License to Kill” and 1995, there were no Bond films as the lawsuit was litigated.

In 1995, however, Pierce Brosnan was given the role and was superb in the film “Goldeneye.” Brosnan proved to be a worthy successor to the Bond mantle, and the story also gave the audience an all too rare glimpse into the psyche of Bond. There were not a lot of gadgets in the film, and Brosnan gave a subtly nuanced performance as Bond, finding middle ground between the intensity of Dalton and the foppishness of Moore. Still, I never thought that Brosnan could compare to Connery from the first 3 Bond films. Sadly, the quality of the films deteriorated rapidly shortly after that (a remote control BMW in “Tomorrow Never Dies,” Denise Richards as a nuclear scientist in “The World is Not Enough,” and an INVISIBLE CAR and a diamond-satellite refuge from “Diamond are Forever” in “Die Another Day”). The future looked bleak. Brosnan was starting to look a little too old for the role (a role that was originally offered to him in 1986 before NBC screwed that up). The screenplays by Purvis and Wade were ludicrous, and I started to wonder about the viability of the franchise. I found myself reading the books, and I wondered why the filmmakers couldn’t just make a straight translation of Fleming’s novels. The thing that every single Bond film has missed was Fleming’s character. The movie Bond (with the noted exceptions of Dalton, Connery’s first 3 films, and George Lazenby’s single film portrayal in “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”) all missed the boat when it came to understanding the character of Bond. Bond is an assassin, a cold, calculating, cruel weapon of the MI6.

Word then started coming about a NEW Bond. This Bond would be Daniel Craig, Paul Newman’s weak son in “The Road to Perdition.” I was a bit nervous about this until I saw his performance in Steven Spielberg’s “Munich”; his performance in that film convinced me that Craig might be a good Bond, but I was skeptical as to whether the producers would actually take advantage of Craig’s talent by providing a good screenplay. When the trailers for the new film started to play, I started getting more excited. This was a different kind of Bond, one who seemed to have sprung from the pages of Fleming’s novel. “Casino Royale” opened yesterday. I saw it today.

Wow.

The origin of Bond proved to be every bit as satisfying as that of Batman in “Batman Begins.” The screenwriters (the much maligned Purvis and Wade, with an assist from "Crash" writer/director Paul Haggis) crafted an excellent story, using Fleming’s novel as the template and FAITHFULLY ADAPTING it, changing some minor aspects that had to be changed due to the post-Cold War world we live in. We see the 2 kills that made Bond 007 (2 kills, 2 “0s”, hence 00…and this is straight from Fleming's 1952 novel). Daniel Craig IS James Bond to the point who…dare I say it…not only challenges Connery’s portrayal but actually SURPASSED it in many ways. The plotline is timely and not far fetched, the stunts were not ridiculous, and there were no gadgets. The wonderful thing is that we get to see what made Bond BOND. I cannot recommend this film enough. Halfway through the film, I reflected on what a good film it was, not just what a good “James Bond” film it was. Several things made me smile…retaining Rene Mathis and Felix Leiter as characters from the novel, the creation (lifted straight from Fleming’s novel) of the James Bond martini, the total lack of slapstick and ridiculous science, the acting of Daniel Craig, the soundtrack (both Chris Cornell's throwback of an opening song, AND the string-heavy instrumental soundtrack that was a throwback to the great Bond soundtracks of the 1960s), and the overall “feel” of the film. This film felt like a classic 1960s Bond film sans rocket packs and bulletproof cars. Much of the dialogue was lifted straight from the novel, and I was pleased. This is a great film. I cannot recommend it enough. I was also impressed with the pacing. In most action films, the character scenes are too often viewed as filler for the action sequences, but the scenes had true import in this movie. In the end, when Bond (excuse me, Daniel Craig) delivers the famous introduction, I was smiling. When the original arrangement of Monty Norman’s James Bond theme played over the final credits, I was smiling even more broadly. Even the theme was as it was in the early Connery films. This was a great Bond film. This was a great spy movie. This is one of my favorite films of the year. Wow. Congratulations, Daniel Craig. May the producers continue to provide good screenplays for you to use, and may we continue to see you as Bond for years to come.

For those of you interested in watching the films in chronological order:
1) Dr. No
2) From Russia, With Love
3) Goldfinger
4) Thunderball
5) You Only Live Twice
6) On Her Majesty's Secret Service
7) Diamonds Are Forever
8) Live and Let Die
9) The Man With the Golden Gun
10) The Spy Who Loved Me
11) Moonraker
12) For Your Eyes Only
13) Octopussy
14) A View to a Kill
15) The Living Daylights
16) License to Kill
17) Goldeneye
18) Tomorrow Never Dies
19) The World is Not Enough
20) Die Another Day
21) Casino Royale
22) Quantum of Solace (to be released on 11/14/08 in the United States)

Note..I realize that there was an earlier version of Casino Royale, and I know that Connery was in the Thunderball remake, Never Say Never Again, but the only authentic Bond films (in my opinion) are the ones from Eon Productions.

Yet ANOTHER Take on the Election-a personal perspective

My parents are unabashed Republicans. I grew up during the era of Reagan and George H.W. Bush, during the Cold War, before the 24 hour news and internet of today. While the Democrats were bumbling their way through numerous presidential defeats, Reagan presided over one of the most prosperous times in American history. While his policies would, ultimately, lead to the recession that denied George H.W. Bush a second term in office, Reagan was the standard bearer for Republican presidents (warts and all). He and Gorbachev developed a rapport that resulted n the destruction of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War. His back door dealings, as illegal as they were, resulted in the freeing of the American hostages held for almost a full year in Iran (and one of the kidnappers was the current Iranian president!). Having been weaned on Reagan's America and the careful lessons of my parents, I registered as a Republican when I turned 18. I voted for Bush in the first Clinton campaign, but I attended the Clinton inauguration. There was a sense of change in the air, a sense of hopefulness. Hand in hand with a Republican Congress, Clinton's administration presided over the most prosperous economy the country had ever experienced. After the first four years of William Jefferson Clinton, I cast my first ballot for a Democrat and felt justified in my decision. Dole did not represent progress the way that Clinton did. Clinton produced results (except for the universal health care initiative spearheaded by the First Lady).

Right around the time of Clinton's second term, when the first allegations about Clinton's marital infidelities started to make their rounds, the first cracks in the leadership and ideology of the Republican Party started to make their presence known. In their kowtowing to the ideologies of the far right, they forgot about their more moderate party members. Now, I am not in any way, shape, or form condoning adultery. However, Clinton's success both on the world stage and for this country should have been the focus and not what he did on his private time. Many of you would disagree, and say that the President is a symbol. I agree. However, the symbolic "purity" of the American President likely went out the door with my beloved Thomas Jefferson and his dalliance with Sally Hemings, a woman who was NOT his wife. The office is just that...an office. Placing the man on some sort of moral pedestal is rather asinine.

But I digress. This alliance of the Republican Party with the far right slowly started to make its presence know during Dole's campaign. Rather than focusing on the issues at hand that were concerning most Americans (growing unrest overseas, the unregulated financial markets, etc.). they chose instead to focus on Clinton's private life. This did not improve during the contest between George W. Bush and Al Gore, as the election debacle of 2000 showed. Through cunning and subterfuge, the Republicans stole the election. What the heck? This was not the party that I signed up for! This was a party who was looking for power at ANY cost-even where that cost would be the welfare of the American people.

And then 9/11 happened, and Bush rose to the occasion. He and fellow Republican Rudolph Guliani, the outgoing mayor of New York City, symbolized leadership when the country most needed it. Bush calmed our fears, told us everything would be all right, and took some action to calm the world. He was our president. The only problem was that he was just not smart enough to recognize that all of his own actions were being carefully controlled and orchestrated by the Republican leadership. After 9/11, Bush failed as a leader, using the attacks as an excuse to invade a sovereign nation without any provocation other than a bit of name calling. He ignored the growing financial problems at home and discarded Clinton's budgetary means for eliminating the national debt within our lifetime. At the same time, in the back of my mind, I could not ignore my own misgivings about the fact that he had STOLEN the election. As young men and women died in the mountains of Afghanistan and the deserts of Iraq, the pockets of the Vice President (a Haliburton board member) and many of Bush's oil cronies were being lined with money made possible by the war-blood money.

The issue with Kerry in the election of 2004 was not the "stupidity of the American people" but, for me, was one of the devil you know versus the devil that you don't. The American people were faced with two choices for President who, on paper, looked a lot alike. Older white men, Yale grads and fellow Skull and Bones members. If you have seen one, you have seen them all. The images of Bush's leadership during 9/11 and the constant beating of the drum for consistent leadership during the military actions in Afghanistan and Iraq cost Kerry the election. However, my enduring memory of that election was the "Swift Boat Veterans" advertisements orchestrated by the Republican Party. At that moment, I knew that the "Party of Lincoln" had lost its way. However, there was one bright spot during the dark days of 2004. During the Democratic National Convention, a young junior senator from Illinois was chosen to give the keynote address. Most people outside of his home state did not know who he was, but those of us lucky enough to have him represent us in the Senate knew of his oratory skills and his amazing credentials. Columbia undergrad and Harvard Law School. Head of Harvard Law Review. Professor of Constitutional Law at the prestigious University of Chicago School of Law. A self-made man in every sense of the word who was NOT born with a silver spoon in his mouth but who had an amazing brain.

That night, Barack Obama was introduced to the world, and the world took notice. Using that speech as a springboard, Obama catapulted himself into the national consciousness and with one fell swoop, was placed on the short list of viable presidential candidates for the Democratic Party. When the time came to select the Democratic candidate, the list consisted of Senator Hilary Clinton, John Edwards, and, trailing both, Barack Obama. Obama, undaunted, carefully mapped out a campaign strategy that would give him the candidacy. The heated rhetoric that flew between the Obama and Clinton camps looked for a time to be just as suicidal as the actions of the Republican Party over the previous 8 years. Meanwhile, Senator John McCain, with no true challengers, sat back and watched. If anything, the lack of any real challengers for McCain was an albatross around his neck, for the contentiousness of the campaigns between Clinton and Obama overshadowed McCain's easy victories in the primaries. McCain should have used the extra time to come up with a message, a platform, and to vet a proper vice-presidential candidate. He failed miserably on all counts.

Now, up until the primaries, I was still hopeful for the Republican Party. I believed that if McCain separated himself from the current Republican leadership, he could bring the party back in a way that would resonate around the world. All he needed to do was denounce the alliance with the far right in favor of the more moderate Republicans. Bipartisanism at its best starts in the middle. McCain, however, did not do that. He embraced the Republican machine and used it to his advantage. He surrounded himself with the same right wing syncophants, those emboldened by their campaigns against Clinton, Gore, and Kerry. There was a smugness about the Republican Party, a disdain for the intelligence of the American people, including some of their own party members.

Obama's campaign was run like a perfectly-oiled machine. He surrounded himself with good people, people who KNEW what they were doing and believed in HIS message. This was not a case where there was a puppet master and a puppet. Obama was also not surrounded by "party people." Just from watching how well his campaign was run, I learned two things: 1) Obama would make a hell of a president and 2) he KNOWS how to surround himself with people who succeed at their jobs. In contrast, McCain surrounded himself with party people who, in their underestimation of the intelligence of the American people (and American women in particular), honestly thought that they could do anything and still win. The minute Sarah Palin was chosen as the Vice-Presidential Candidate, the minute chance that I might vote for McCain evaporated. You see, that was the signal to me that voting for McCain would be a continuation of the worst presidential administration in my lifetime. It would be run by the same puppetmasters in control of Bush. Sure, I would pay higher taxes, but "what does it profit a man to gain the world, yet lose his soul"?

In the end, I believe in Barack Obama. His victory tells me that it is possible for ANYONE born in this country to become president, even someone like me, the child of immigrants from South India. His victory also signals to the world that they should not give up on the United States. For the first time in a long time, I am looking forward to a new administration.

Disclaimer: these are my own views of the events that occurred over the last 20 years. I am sure that people will disagree with my take, but I don't care. That is what makes a blog a wonderful thing!!

My Favorite Movies: High Noon

Hollywood in the '50s was a much different place than it is today. Oh sure, you had all of the fashion, gossip, intrigue, and excitement, but beneath that sheen of glamour lay one of the most right wing agendas ever. Much of this had to do with the continued persecution of the Jewish people and the desire from Hollywood execs to keep this persecution out of Hollywood. After all, without the efforts of such pioneers as Louis B. Mayer, David Selznick, Irving Thalberg, Carl Laemmle, Darryl Zanuck, Harry Cohn, and Jack Warner, we might not even have the Hollywood that we have today. Still, the common threat that all of these great men faced was the fear of persecution because of their religious or social beliefs. In trying to stem anti-Semitism, these leaders of Hollywood took the route of being the MOST American they could be. For a time, this worked. After all, the rise of Hollywood thanks to the great studio systems of the 20s-40s is the stuff of legends. The 1950s, however, would be a different story.

In 1947, the House Un-American Activities Committee (yes, there was actually something called this) launched an investigation into the "infiltration of Communists in Hollywood." Part of this investigation consisted of 9 days of hearings whereby various Hollywood craftsmen (actors, directors, writers) were called before Congress to testify as to the infiltration of Communist propaganda in Hollywood and to"name names" of Communist sympathizers. This was a classic case of guilt by suspicion. Where the craftsmen named no names or refused to answer questions, they were immediately considered guilty. The Hollywood 10, 10 individuals who refused to kowtow to this most UNAMERICAN of committees, were instantly blacklisted by all of Hollywood. Think of it: these individuals were denied the opportunity to practice their craft for most of the rest of their lives because they EXERCISED THEIR RIGHTS. Furthermore, they refused to name names. Even while "upstanding Americans" like John Wayne, Elia Kazan, and Ronald Reagan were damning their fellow workers to suspicion (grounded or not) by naming names, these 10 stood their ground-and were left alone on an island, isolated for doing what was right.

One of these individuals was a screenwriter named Carl Forman. Forman could not get hired in Hollywood after this, and he tried to write and submit screenplays under pseudonyms. One of his screenplays told the story of a small town sheriff who, years earlier with the help of the townspeople, had cleared out the most evil of evil men, Frank Miller. In his story, Miller's sentence was commuted, and the sheriff tries to round up a posse from among the town men, only to be rebuffed and standing alone against the coming storm. It was the perfect allegory to the era of blacklisting and the story of the Hollywood Ten, dressed up in that most innocuous of genres-the Western. Of course, since Foreman could not submit the story, now fleshed out with details from a short story called "the Tin Star", by John Cunningham, needed his production partner, Stanley Kramer, to have the production see the light of day. The name of the film was "High Noon".

At first glance, "High Noon" seems to be a most conventional Western. The title itself conjures up images of a "showdown at high noon between the noble sheriff and the desperadoes", but the actual story is much deeper than that. This film could be considered the first existential Western, the forerunner to such films as Clint Eastwood's "Unforgiven" and Kevin Reynold's "Open Range." The film's opening sequence is filled with iconic imagery and sound. With the opening notes of "Do Not Forsake Me" (with a rhythm track evoking the sound of a slow trotting horse), we see a lone cowboy resting under a tree, smoking a cigarette. Tex Ritter's song then begins in earnest, and it tells the story through the rest of the opening credits, a forlorn ballad of loneliness in the face of pending danger. The one cowboy gets on his horse and rides to meet a second, and the two together ride to meet a third. They all ride, three abreast as the song ends, to reach the train depot of the town of Hadleyville. The depot manager recognizes all three and is frightened, but he becomes more frightened when he receives a telegram. He sneaks out and races to the Marshal's office, where the marriage of Sheriff Will Kane (Gary Cooper) and his Quaker wife Amy (Grace Kelly) has just taken place. Amy is happy that Will is leaving the violent life of a sheriff, for Quakers do not condone violence of any type. Their happiness is short lived however, as the depot manager brings the shocking news that Frank Miller, a ruthless killer who Kane arrested years ago, was released from jail and is on his way back on the noon train, most likely to get his revenge. Kane looks at the clock, and from this point on, the clock becomes a main character in the film. The story is told in real time, meaning one minute of screen time passes for each minute of real time.

Kane figures it will be easy-after all the townspeople helped him last time, and they reaped the benefits of his efforts. Surely they would help him in his time of need. What happens next, in the real time of the film, is the slow rejection of Kane by all of the people that he met. All of them, save for his wife (who also rejects him because of his intent to follow through on a violent course of action) have their own motives, none of which are the same. But we are left with an interesting morality tale, the lone person who wants to do what is right but has his faith in the people he is trying to help shaken beyond redemption. Even as the townspeople are urging him to leave town, he refuses to back down for the sake of the town itself. His reward? Being left to face certain death at the hands of 4 killers.

The film is one of my favorites for so many reasons. The iconic imagery, the setting, the excellent acting, the characters. I will give you a run down:

1) Gary Cooper: he deservedly won an Academy Award for his nuanced portrayal of Will Kane. In a time of Hollywood he-man, Cooper brought a realistic vulnerability to the square jawed nature of Will Kane. As the film progresses, we see close-ups of Cooper's features and the fear that is building inside him as he realizes that he will likely have to stand alone. A masterful performance.

2) The camera work is astounding. In watching the film, one feels enveloped by the story and invested in its outcome. Fred Zinneman did a wonderful job using certain camera setups to evoke emotions from his audience. I never cease to be amazed by one famous camera shot...just before high noon itself, where the camera, on a crane, focuses first on Kane and then gradually pulls back. Cooper's body language nicely captures the fear and isolation that the character should be feeling at that point, and the crane shot is one long withdrawal until Cooper, a tall guy, looks tiny and insignificant against the backdrop of the deserted town streets.



3) The music. Tex Ritter (John Ritter's dad) was a famous country western cowboy singer of the era. The ballad that begins the film picks up during the film itself, with several musical cues, complete with lyrics, evoking the inner workings of Kane's mind without having to resort to any sort of voice over. For me, it is one of the best film scores ever because the music is SO intertwined with the success of the film.

4) The final shot of the film. For those of you who have never watched the film, I will not spoil it. However, I will tell you that this is #1 on my list of favorite last shots EVER. When you see it, you will understand.

"High Noon" works on many levels. It works as an excellent non-conventional Western with an engaging story, top notch production values, and excellent performances. It also works as a wonderful allegory for the story of the Hollywood 10, albeit with a much happier ending. For these reasons and more, "High Noon" is on my short list of favorite films.

Various things that I wonder about . . .

1) So why is it that every laundry and dry cleaning store seems to be owned and operated by individuals from East Asia. Now, I am Asian myself, so please do not take this as me being at all racist, but ever since I was a wee lad in Virginia, all of the dry cleaning establishments have been run (quite well, mind you) by individuals from East Asia. What gives? And on the same subject, why are all the Dunkin' Donuts here (and, it seems, elsewhere) run by individuals who are, like me, South Asian. I man, I can laugh about Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, he of the PhD in Engineering, owning and operating a convenience store. It is funny 'cause its true. But why?

2) The other day, a homeless man approached me and asked for change. This happens almost on a daily basis here in Chicago, and I would not have given it another thought but for the specificity of the request. You see, most of the time, I will get the generic "spare change?" query, and as I rarely carry cash around anymore, I can say with conviction "I'm sorry, but I have no cash." On this occasion, the individual asked: "Excuse me, but do you have 41 cents?" I kind of did a double take, for the request was so darned specific. Not a dollar, not 50 cents, but 41 cents. Now granted, this may have been the amount that the guy needed to get on a bus, buy a sandwich, or secure a 40 for the night, but I was taken aback (and a bit impressed) by the request for 41 cents. I had to give him that exact amount and count it out, and he was happy. Has anyone else run into awfully specific requests for spare change?

3) Do sirens on the city streets REALLY NEED to be as loud as they are? I can here them on the 32nd floor of my building. When I am street level, it is even worse.

Welcome to the First Day of the Rest of Your Life

So there I was, during the first week at work, stressing and stressing about the bar exam. I was one of those sick individuals who looked up my essays to discover the points of law that I missed and worried and fretted that that would be enough for me to get a failing grade. AARGH! The agony was unbearable. I must explain at this point that no member of my firm who is currently working here has failed the bar. Therefore, I did not want to be the first. All during the first week, me and my fellow first year associated were vetted and congratulated and welcomed, yet all of us felt uneasy, for as much as we hoped to have passed the bar, we honestly had NO IDEA how we had done.

The initial newness of the job had worn off, and the middle of September found me settling into a normal routine of work and going home. I was able to put the bar aside and just look forward to work. I had a career (finally) and was doing something that I enjoyed. The first paycheck arrived, and all I thought was: "Hallelujah! I can pay my mortgage this month." Slowly, however, the specter of bar results began to rear its ugly head. As the time grew nearer, there was a noticeable increase in anxiety from my fellow test takers. I had resolved not to worry. After all, I had another chance to take it before my firm would "suggest" that I find employment elsewhere. At the same time, I dreaded the process of studying for the bar and going through that hell again. My fellow first years and I were hopeful, yet we were tentative.

On Monday, September 29, a message posted on the Illinois Bar website, informing all of us that bar results would be posted late in the afternoon the next day. The message instructed us to wait until we had received our individual notification before checking our bar results. Everyone was on DEFINITE pins and needles the night before the results were to be posted. The air around Chicago was papable with the tension of thousands of young adults whose life courses would be determined by a simple message on a website: pass or fail.

So on Tuesday, September 30, everyone waited.....

and waited.....

and waited......

E-mails flew back and forth among friends " has it posted yet, has it posted yet, are there results yet? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE????" Of course, everyone was careful to follow (ignore) the Illinois Bar's instruction to wait until we received an e-mail.

At 4 PM, the collective power of thousands of bar takers succeeded in crashing the servers at the Illinois Bar site. Along with that came the sobering realization that we would NOT be finding out our results for another few hours. *GROAN*

I was getting absolutely NO WORK accomplished, so I went home. I quickly started cooking. Chicken Tikka Masala. Beef Rogan Josh, Chicken curry...anything to get my mind off the results. Time ticked by slowly, and no new e-mails were forthcoming. I waited...

and waited...


and waited...

at 2:30 AM. I received an email. With my heart pounding like a jackhammer, I logged onto the website to read the first line of the letter to me: We are pleased to inform you...

YYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES! The 3 years of tortuous work and the worry and the strain were all worth it! I had passed!

And then I had to go to sleep and prepare for the next day at work. This proved to be the beginning of the BEST WEEK EVER. Why the beginning? More on that next time . . .

A Very Special Artful Birthday

We now return you to our regularly scheduled program . . .catching you all up on the excitement that is my life.

When last we left off , I had just returned to Chicago from a visit with my parents. Work was to start that Tuesday after Labor Day. I had a restful Labor Day weekend in order to gear up for the long week ahead. I was worried about so many things (passing the bar, starting my real work, etc.) but at least I had a belated birthday dinner with PAG and Xander to look forward to. Xander and PAG, in addition to being friends of Daisy, are friends of mine as well (funny how that works). Xander is, in fact, one of my very best friends. Since the bar, where we were in the same classroom for the review courses for most of the summer, we had not hung out as guy friends should. He and PAG were traveling a bit, and whenever they were in town, I was out of town. Finally, PAG (being the scheduling maven that she is), tied down a date where all three of us could go to dinner. I suggested a quaint Italian restaurant near my own place, and PAG and Xander agreed. PAG then took it upon herself to change the venue. I understood; after all, PAG has EXCELLENT taste in restaurants, and when she informed me that we were still going to have Italian food, I was happy. The only problem was that the day of our dinner, she was going to be in class, so Xander and I were stuck with nothing to do until PAG got out of work. We decided to go down to Rock Bottom and sample a few of their fall microbrews while waiting for PAG to get out of her class. Finally, at 7:30, Xander received PAG's text that she was on her way and that we should get to the restaurant.

So we walked the 2 blocks to the restaurant. It was good to speak with Xander after so long. We walked into the restaurant, and Xander gave the hostess PAG's name. She was already here! As Xander took the lead, I started looking around for a short red head seated at one of the tables. I turned around to look for Xander, and he had stepped off to the side. "Huh", I thought. "where's he go?"


"SURPRISE!!!!!"

I was stunned. There, off to the side in a private dining room, was PAG, but she was not alone. She was surrounded by some of my very best friends in the world. Hey, there's Smart Hottie! There's Daisy and the Wayward Esquire! Eddie! All in all, 13 friends in all gathered on a weeknight for me (for me!!) to celebrate my birthday. I was stunned. I was overcome with emotion. No one had ever done anything like this for me EVER. PAG was so happy to have pulled off the PERFECT SURPRISE. I was none the wiser. Everyone was there for me. I still cannot believe this. Over wine and some of the best gourmet pizza I have ever tasted, we laughed, talked and socialized for a few hours. For one small moment in time, the rest of the world and my worries melted away, and I could enjoy the company of my best friends.

Thank you, PAG. I will never forget this nor will I forget PAGMom's gift of a "justice scales" paperweight and a congratulatory card that plays the theme to "Law and Order". Wow. Just wow.

Next up-did I pass the bar? Tune in to find out.

Meeting Grace

You may have noticed that there is a new link from my blog this morning. Law With Grace has been a longtime read of mine ever since Daisy started blogging. I remember clicking onto Grace's blog for the first time, and I found her entries to be warm, hysterical, and poignant all at the same time (a real trick). My favorite Grace post can be found here. In reading the post, I found myself reminiscing about a sofa, an ex-girlfriend, and the very issues and emotions that Grace described in her post that day. I thought to myself: (1) the quality of my posts is EXTREMELY low compared to this and (2) Grace is gifted.

Now, Grace is well known in our circle of blogging friends. She was one of the first to start the cathartic process of blogging, and Daisy, Namby, the Wayward Esquire, Anonymous Hottie, and Eddie had all met and reveled in the wonderfulness that is Grace.

Until last night, I had never met her.

The funny thing is that I was surrounded by people who insisted that my memory was faulty, that Grace and I had had NUMEROUS conversations and "remember that time when Artful and Grace...?" Umm, no, because Artful had never MET Grace. It seemed that we just kept missing each other. She would go to some functions where the rest were gathered, and I would be at others. Somehow, along the way, our paths never crossed.

Grace took it upon herself to organize a post-work happy hour gathering for all of us. With the exception of AH, we were all in town and amenable to getting together for some post-work fun. I must admit to being kind of nervous. You see, all of the other bloggers and I were friends, as they were with Grace, but this was one of those "will my friends get along when they meet each other?" kind of moments. I have always felt that bringing friends together is a lot more loaded with minefields than bringing a significant other to meet your friends. While significant others come and go, friends are for life. What happens if she can't stand me? What does that do to my friendships with the others? Would we all be able to still get along?

So there I was, walking into the tavern at just after 5 PM yesterday. I looked around and immediately spotted (and heard) the Wayward Esquire. Across from him was Eddie and at the other end of the table was Daisy. Daisy was deep in conversation with a tall, gorgeous blonde dressed in a business suit. In all fairness to Daisy, let me also disclose that Daisy is also a gorgeous blonde, so it crossed my mind that such women really DO hang out in groups. Then, I began to get nervous. Could that be Grace? Holy crap is she hot! I made idle conversation with Eddie and the Wayward Esquire until the gorgeous blonde (the one that I did not know) noticed my presence at the table.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded to know.

"Uhh...who the hell are YOU?" I asked, tentatively, in return (I know, smooth, right?).

"I asked you first." she replied, a challenge still in her eye.

"I asked you second." I replied meekly, averting my eyes.

Eddie, who, by this time, had rightfully grown tired of this back and forth, said " she has you there."

She stared at me and I stared at her. Defeated, I broke into a smile and extended my hand and said: "It is so nice to finally meet you!"

Grace took mercy on me and broke into a dazzling smile (one of those that can melt hearts): "It is nice to meet you too. Wait, you get a hug."

With that, Grace walked around the table and I received a heartfelt, warm embrace and a kiss on my cheek. Instantaneously, Grace and I were good friends. I found myself telling her things that few of the others knew about me, and Grace smiled, laughed, and listened. I told her of how her posted story of the IKEA picture affected me, and she accepted my compliments modestly. When Namby arrived, the party finally felt complete. As Namby tossed peanuts into the beer mugs surrounding us and he, Eddie, and the Wayward Esquire belted out Monty Python tunes, our party was one of laughter and conversation. Any passersby would have assumed that the six of us were lifelong friends rather than just people who met through law school and through law school friends, much less THAT NIGHT. The friendships among all of the bloggers survived the first meeting of me and Grace, and I look forward to many more evenings of fun.

So, what are my impressions of Grace? Intelligent, witty, gorgeous, vivacious, intense, warm, funny, irrepressible, and...dare I say it...yes, I must...AMAZING. All of you should be so lucky to know someone like her.

Little Drummer Nerd

A brief interlude in my "let's catch up on the boring life of the Artful Blogger":

IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yesterday, Eddie was kind enough to go to my management office and pick up the ULTIMATE in wasteful purchases. Amazon rocks for such purchases. We went to a local Irish Pub (where we scored Guinness openers and where Eddie scored a T-Shirt) to dine on some very good food. After hanging out with Eddie, I went home and set about putting together my most nerdy of purchases:



Yes, what are are looking at is the Ion Drum Kit manufactured EXCLUSIVELY for use with Rock Band and Rock Band 2 for the X-Box. This drum kit is around twice the price of the normal kit, but it sports a metal bass pedal, metal structure, and professional-grade drum heads. The coolest thing of all is that, should I one day be able to master Keith Moon's masterful drum work in "Won't Get Fooled Again" and fancy myself a real drummer, I can swap out the Xbox "brain" and install a "brain" for the set that would enable me to use them as a REAL SET OF DRUMS!!!!!

(Pantpantpant.....)

OK, so I am a little excited, and i have not even had the opportunity to try them out, as assembly took an abnormally long time. Tonight, on the other hand, I plan on breaking them in.

Oh...and I also purchased a professional drum "throne"(you know, those three legged metal stools that drummers use?). Yeah, I bought one to play my video game drum set up. I am THAT COOL (or not).

We now will return you to your regularly scheduled program.

Eddie's Place-or where everybody knows your name

So I had returned from my trip out East. I was now in possession of a new (well, new to me anyway as it was manufactured in the 1990s) vehicle. I was still faced with the insurmountable task of unpacking and getting ready for my first day of work the following Tuesday. PAG and Xander had already made plans with me for dinner the following Wednesday, but I was feeling rather isolated sitting in my new place staring at mounds and mounds of boxes (a major downside of being a comic and toy collector). I mean, Scuba Steve and Anonymous Hottie, the two longest-lived individuals in the area where I moved, were out gallivanting the various wildernesses of Colorado and Grenada (was the Ford Grenada named after the island or vice versa? I forget), and Daisy and BSSMOW lived too far away for easy access and were busy in their own right. As a result, I was left to my own devices-or so I thought.

Enter Eddie and HASWOE.

Now, save for a few occasions (including the disastrous screening experience that was Speed Racer), I had never had an opportunity to hang out with Eddie and HASWOE. After all, they lived far away in the mecca that was MY haunt for the FIRST 7 year period of my graduate study (long after I had moved away from said mecca). They, in their infinite consideration, had sought to throw a housewarming party when I would be in town, but my schedule of the previous 2 weeks (traveling and my brother's wedding) prevented me from being present for either of the 2 weekends that they had available, so I told them not to worry about me. They ended up having what sounds like a fabulous housewarming party, and I was sad that I missed it.

While sitting at the computer by my lonesome on Friday night (yes, I am quite the party cossack), Eddie and I start gChatting). We agree that brunch the next morning would be fun. Wow! I had plans for Saturday morning! The next morning, I walked the 2 blocks to Eddie and HASWOE's place and was comforted by the fact that it took scarcely 5 minutes to cover the distance from my place to theirs. We had a fabulous brunch, killing time by shopping at a local gourmet and liquor store. My mind, however, was elsewhere a lot of the time, as I was thinking about all of the moving out from my old place that still needed to be done. As soon as brunch was over, we walked back to our respective places, and I immediately felt alone again. What the heck? I LOVE being alone. What's the deal here?

So there I was, the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, having no plans whatsoever except to move more things from my old place and to fall asleep with college football on in the background. Having done much of the moving and returned to my new place, I was exhausted and collapsed on my sofa. As I was drifting in and out of sleep, my phone rang:

Eddie: "Do you have plans for tonight"

Me (still sleepy): "zxfdfdfssfxzzfxfzzz? asd .fdsfa sd.fewrewqwef!"

Eddie (patiently): "Do you have plans for tonight?"

Me (with the fog of REM sleep lifting): "No no..I thought I might sit here in the dark by myself turning on and off the light switch while listening to Madame Butterfly." Wait...no, actually I said "No plans, dude. What do you have in mind?"

Eddie: "HASWOE and I were going to grill out and, since you missed the housewarming, we wanted you to come over. You need to see how well Ralphie (the grill that Eddie and I put together..um..together) works."

Immediately, my spirits lifted. I mean, sure, I missed the housewarming, but here, I was able to have Eddie and HASWOE all to myself! Those of you who read Eddie's blog can get a sense of how fun the two of them are. Now fully awake, I told Eddie: "When and where, and what can I bring?"

Eddie, or course, said "nothing-and whenever you want to come over." Cool.

I headed over to the Eddie house and was met immediately by the yapping of Crossers. Eddie came to the door (HASWOE was immersed in her own closet-organization hell). Eddie and I bantered back and forth in the kitchen and then moved out to the balcony where Ralphie lives. As Eddie prepared to grill, HASWOE joined us, and, over wine and cheese, we sat and chatted. The weather was perfect and the conversation was intelligent.

"Wow," I thought. "So THIS is what this is like."

In short order, HASWOE and Eddie have become two close friends. This is not my normal MO. Usually, people have to be around me for months before they enter what De Niro, in "Meet the Parents" so aptly called the Circle of Trust. The two of them are as warm and wonderful a couple as any that I have met. Since then, we have hung out a lot together, and their place feels like home. Even the dogs have become accustomed to my presence. So to all of you out there who read Eddie's blog and think that he and HASWOE are awesome, I am here to tell you that, with ONE EXCEPTION, you are correct.

The evil couple introduced me to authentic imported British chocolate, and it has become my heroin. I am always looking for my next fix. DAMN YOU EDDIE!!!!

The Road West-Part II

So there I was...in the Northwest Baltimore suburb of Owings Mills, staying at the rather nice Hyatt Place. It was early in the morning of August 27, and I set out on the road. As I mentioned, my original plan to travel via I-70 changed at the last minute, and it dawned on me, as I made my way on to I-68 that (a) I had no road map or atlas of any kind, (b) I had no GPS or phone with any sort of GPS, and (c) I am a man-therefore, I was willing to end up in Florida before stooping to the level to asking for directions. I vaguely remembered that to get to I-80, I would have to drive to Pittsburgh, so away I went. My only stop during the morning was to refuel at a McDonalds in the rural mecca of Cumberland, MD. Now, I am a lover of Southern style biscuits. You can TASTE the lard in a properly made Southern biscuits, and the biscuits that I would eat from fast food chains in the Midwest never seemed to measure up to the SAME biscuits prepared in the ovens of the SAME fast food joints located in Southern states. I'd like to think that the attention to detail that the "biscuit artisans" of the Southern McDonalds observed was due to their own watchful and clucking Grandmothers who KNEW how to make a good biscuit. So it was with great anticipation that I ordered my Southern style Chicken biscuit from McDonalds in Cumberland, and oh man....it did NOT disappoint. The biscuit was hot out of the oven, and the chicken was piping hot as well and perfectly seasoned. I luxuriated over ever bite, and took my time. Although Chicago is my adopted hometown, there are just SOME THINGS that I cannot find in Chicago. Thankfully, those things are alive and well on the road to Cleveland.

So I made my way on I-68 and passed through West Virginia, looping North towards Cleveland. I ended up reaching Cleveland at around 1:30 PM and checked into my hotel. I then made my way to my buddy Aaron's place, and we tooled around North Olmsted for a bit. He and his wife Julie were to take to out to celebrate my birthday, and we had a wonderful evening at Champps. Aaron's original intention was to take me to a nice restaurant, but in actuality, I was looking more for a bistro atmosphere and not a fancy sit-down situation. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all. We made our way back to Aaron's place, and the kids were already asleep. I put in the first disc of "Arrested Development: Season One", and Aaron and Julie were both hooked by the saga of the Bluths, as I knew they would be. What a great series! Early the next morning, Aaron and I dined at the middle America mecca that is Baker's Square, and I immediately understood one of the root causes for the obesity epidemic in the United States (notwithstanding my own fascination with Southern-style biscuits...so good...). Everything on the Baker's Square menu was laden with fats and carbs. Just by glancing at the menu, I could tell that the entire menu was a landmine. No wonder corporations like Baker's Square, Denny's and IHOP refuse to publish their nutritional information! They would never get people in the door if they knew. Uusually in situations like this, I opt for the fruit plate and oatmeal, but those self-same restaurants always have the WORST oatmeal..a watery gruel that one cannot justify paying for. Would it be too much to ask for some good old fashioned steel-cut oats?

Breakfast aside, Aaron and I had a good time just relaxing and talking. We always have excellent conversations, and these quite moments with one's friends are something that I treasure. The time then came for my return trip to Chicago, and I made my way back to I-80. The trip was uneventful, but I was pleased to see that the Indiana Toll authority would now recognize my I-Pass...this will make trips East that much easier. Now if only the Ohio toll authority would catch up.

When I arrived home, I felt different than I had in the past. This is the first time EVER...well, since moving from my parents' home in Virginia...that I felt like I was HOME. There were the walls, cabinets, granite countertops, and paint colors that I (well, with AH's help with the colors, at least) had chosen. There was MY entertainment set-up. There was MY ginormous king size comfy bed. I felt like I was home, and it felt good. I still need to have a housewarming party, but I also need to do some unpacking. Oh well...time enough for that later.

Next time....my first weeks at work and the fun that is having Eddie and HASWOE living so close by.

So now I am a full-time attorney..at least until October 1...

Has it really been 3 weeks since my last update? So much has happened since then! With so much material, I can stretch out my normal large updates into several smaller ones, just to get those of you who stopped checking my site back into the habit of checking it.

So...August 21 was the last entry, and I was in Virginia. I had a wonderful time resting with my folks after a rather tumultuous few weeks (closing, packing, moving, parent's visit to new place, and my brother's wedding). I celebrated my birthday on August 25 with my parents and then hit the road the next day. Yes, I said hit the road. My parents gifted me their 1992 car for the trip, and it made the trip amazingly low stress. My folks had meticulously maintained the car, and it was in garage-kept condition. Only time will tell if the rough streets of Chicago will be so kind to it (I am thinking NO).

My first stop on the road trip back was Baltimore. Now, I had not been to Baltimore in quite some time, and my first impression upon getting to the city was "how the heck did I ever enjoy living here?" The contrast to my adopted city of Chicago was startling. Baltimore has an industrial feel that goes beyond mere blue collar. I can love a blue collar city, but it is tough to love one that is clearly on the decline. I had forgotten how rude the people could be, and I was dismayed to find that many of my former haunts had deteriorated to the point where I hardly recognized them anymore. Eddie had prepared me for this, but to actually see it with my own eyes..well..it was tough. I ended up staying the evening in Owings Mills, a now overgrown suburb of Baltimore located on the Northwest side. At least I had a fun dinner with friends at McCormick and Schmicks. I was looking forward to having some good seafood, but sadly, the barramudi I ordered was woefully overdone. At least the hoisin sauce rescued the dish a little bit, but I was disappointed. How can a restaurant located on the water screw up a basic fish preparation? I think that the world class restaurants in Chicago have raised my expectation for proper dinner preparation.

I then went to sleep, but I woke up early the next morning to continue my trip. I hopped onto interstate 70 and enjoyed the morning drive, for at that time of the day, there was very little traffic on the road. I had intended to take the Pennsylvania Turnpike, but a radio warning informed me that construction delays were severe. I instead opted to go west via I-68, through West Virginia and the Cumberland Gap.

Join me tomorrow when I regale you with Part II of my trip-from West Virginia to Cleveland.

Phew!

What a busy busy few weeks! I am sure that many of you might have thought I have just given up on the blog, but I assure you that this is not the case. There are just so many things that are tied into the beginning of my new life that I have barely had the time to catch my breath. I will try to share with you the highlights of the whirlwind that has been my last few weeks.

1) I closed on my condo. Yes, I am finally a homeowner. In this time of housing market uncertainty with banks, mortgage companies, and title companies scrutinizing each and every application with a fine toothed comb, I was able to convince them that I was a good risk. Of course, the closing was not without its share of anxiety. I had to come up with an extra 5% down payment within 2 weeks of the closing. If that were not enough, the day of the closing almost became the day that was NOT the closing. So there I was, sitting at Chicago Title Company with my agent, my attorney, and my mortgage broker signing away my life. The closing was going along very smoothly until the title agent asked about the certificate that brought me in compliance with the new Illinois Anti-Predatory Lending law that went into effect the month before. The minute my mortgage broker said "huh?", I started sweating. You see, I had already reserved the movers and the freight elevator for a Monday move, and here it was, Friday, and I might not close until Monday night. Panic set in, and I felt a little angry and frustrated. I had jumped through a LOT of hoops just to get to this point, and I could not believe that a little bit of red tape (a form that needed to be filled out by computer) would be the thing that threw a wrench in the works. Thankfully, the title agent was amazing. Not only did he stay with the closing throughout the next 5 hours (I was told to go home and wait), but he also stayed later than 6 PM on a Friday because he, too, recognized that this was not my fault and I should not be penalized for a new law whose implementation NO ONE understands. I ended up closing. On Friday. During this period of uncertainty, I became more aware of how much I wanted my new place, and I was glad that, by the end of 08-08-08, I was a new homeowner.

2. Moving. Having concluded the closing drama, I spent the next 2 days packing for the move. I expected the movers to be ready by 10 AM and be down at the new place by 1 PM (when I had reserved the freight elevator). Instead, I received a call at 7:30 (!) the next morning, with the movers telling me that they were outside. They had the truck loaded up by 9:30 and were on the way to my place by 10. We waited out another set of people who were moving in, but the movers started up again and completed the move by 1:30 PM. I was finally in my new place, surrounded by boxes, and utterly exhausted. Of course, the gas alarm was beeping every 30 seconds thanks to a low battery (and I did not have a ladder tall enough to reach it-my new place is a loft). The contractors had also failed to light the hot water heater, so I went back to the old place to shower. After moving day, I really needed one. Still, it was nice to spend my first night in my new place. With all of the boxes surrounding me, it should come as no surprise that I started with all of my electronics. A man's gotta be able to play Guitar Hero, right? The place is looking pretty good. Anonymous Hottie continued her design efforts by introducing me to her furniture guy. A major purchase is in the offing. At least I had enough furniture to entertain my parents. After all, they were coming into town for my brother's wedding on Thursday and would be staying with me on Thursday night. EGADS!!!!! At least it forced me to get the place habitable for guests. My parents loved the place and declared that I had done well (and I basked in the afterglow of THAT comment).

3. My Brother's Wedding. Many of you know of the drama that has surrounded my brother's wedding. There has been a little animosity on both sides (well, OK, mostly the GROOM's side of the family), but my folks were there for my brother, and my brother was great in getting them there. After spending Thursday night in my place, all of us went to stay at the wedding hotel in Itasca. My brother had arranged for suites at the Westin there, the site of the wedding. There, in a large tent on the Westin grounds, I watched my brother get married in a traditional (2 hours long!) Hindu ceremony. Of course, my brother being my brother, he decided to make a substitution to the tradition of the groom riding in on a horse. He decorated his BMW motorcycle with the headdress reserved for the ceremonial horse and rode it, with his best man and groomsmen surrounding him, to the ceremony. After all, he reasoned, why settle for one horse when you can have 90 (horsepower)? So I was one of the groomesmen and was dressed in traditional Indian garb for the ceremony. The unfortunate thing was that traditional Indian garb is VERY SIMILAR to traditional Muslim garb, and there was an Orthodox Jewish wedding that was occurring at the very same venue after our service. I can only imagine the feelings of concernation among the assembled members of Jewish society at the site of so many people dressed as we were.

So the wedding and the pictures went off without a hitch, and it was now time to get ready for the reception. I was exhausted, but I was looking forward to the reception. After all, I had no responsibilities except to look after my folks. This was also the reason my sister-in-law told me not to bring a date. Oh well. All of the groomsmen looked replendent in their back suits and red ties as we marched in with the bridesmaids. The food at the cocktail hour was excellent, and I was settling back for an enjoyable evening when I saw the emcee, my sister-in-law's cousin, approaching our table.

"So you are set for your speech, right?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied confidently. "Wait, what?"
"The bride's side has 4 speakers and the groom's side has 3," he replied. "Your brother said that his best man, you, and another member of his wedding party are giving speeches."
"Oh, ok." I responded. Then, "wait, what?"

Right about that time, the first of the speeches started, and the salad course was beginning. I had 5 speeches worth of time to think about what I would say. I paid attention to the speeches and took in what was working with the crowd and what was not working. Then, with no rehearsal and no true outline of what I would say, I was called to the floor. Thanks to the stress of the occasion + a few glasses of wine, I was able to deliver a speech that was probably better than something I might have agonized over. I was proud of myself, but I was also grateful that my brother and sister-in-law seemed to really like it. I also wanted to throttle my brother for putting me in that situation, but that's just him.

I think that my favorite part of the wedding had to be the post reception party. My brother, his bride, and a few close family members and friends retired to one of the suites for some wine, pizza, and Olympics coverage. I went to sleep at 4 and was awoken by my Mom's phone call at 8:30. Some things never change.

4. Recovery. The rest of the week was recovery and more unpacking. I now am the proud possessor of an HD-DVR + the NFL Sunday Ticket, courtesy of Direct TV. I also realized the benefits of living 3 blocks away from Eddie and Anonymous Hottie. We were able to hang out on Monday and Tuesday. On Monday, Eddie and I assembled his new grill (cue manly music), and he, HASWOE, and I met Anonymous Hottie and another friend out for a late dinner. The next morning, I went over to Eddie's again to watch for furniture delivery from AH's furniture store (well, she doesn't OWN it, but all of us were turned onto it because of her), and Eddie and I dined on sandwiches from an AMAZING new Italian Deli in my new neighborhood. I can already see that living so close to so many of my friends is going to be a wonderful experience. And Eddie, I am not just saying that because you let me mooch off of your internet service. On Wednesday, I flew home to Virginia for some R & R, as work (for real) begins the day after Labor Day.

I hope that you all are having a pleasant summer. I cannot believe that it is almost over. I only hope that the rest of the year will be as fun.