Bud-ding Maturity (Part Deux)

I FOUND THEM, PEOPLE!!! I FOUND MY LOST EAR BUDS!!!!!!!!!! THEY WERE IN MY SHORTS POCKET!!!!!! WOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Not that, um, it's a big deal or anything.

I'm just sayin'...

Aren't You That Guy...?

I'm tired of being The Movie Guy. It's gotten so...old.

Don't get me wrong, I love knowing that I have more useless movie knowledge than anyone around, but really...I'm tired of being known as that guy. I was looking at my list of DVDs this afternoon, people, and I flipped out when I saw that I have roughly 575 DVDs (including box sets in their entirety...not just the individual discs within). I mean, yeah, I knew I had a lot--A LOT!!--but that's just nuts!!

But this realization didn't just happen overnight. As I have with so many other blog entries, allow me to go all Lost on you and take you back in time a bit.

I can recall times where I'd be looking at my DVD Web sites and see a title that, up until that point, I had absolutely no desire or interest in seeing. It could be a movie I'd never even heard of. Then something would just click--or snap, depending on how you look at it--in my brain. I would have to go buy it. It would become an obsession (remember, I am diagnosed with OCD), making me go from store to store, trying to find it (you know you want it. You know you need it. Buy it! Buy it! BUY IT!!!!) One frantic, damn-near-desperate search later and fifteen to forty-five dollars poorer, I would have the DVD(s) in my hot little hands. As soon as I would get home, I'd put it away and make a note to watch it at a later time. This sweat-inducing, impulse shopping frenzy went on for nearly three years until I received the financial assistance from my parents.

I figured that since I'd been given a second chance, money-wise, I probably shouldn't fuck it up. To this day, there are probably at least 100 movies that I've yet to watch. That, or I've watched many of them with no future plans to view them a second time. So many DVDs bought, so much dust gathered.

No wonder my allergies are such a bitch!

These days, I look at my massive collection and I'm overwhelmed with this feeling of self-loathing. I mean, yeah, I won't lie to you, it's an impressive collection, but those suckers are a manifestation of my OCD at its worst. I look at it and I think to myself, what was I thinking?! How much money would I have right now?! I know it's silly to question past decisions, but I go over it again and again in my head: Why was it so bloody important that you had to buy all of those?!

As I mentioned in my previous blog entry, I saw "Children of Men" and really liked it a lot. The next day, I could hear that voice in my head saying, you should really head to Best Buy and pick it up!! And I'll be honest, I almost did. Almost. It was my half-hour break, I had my cars keys on me and was ready to peel out of the Marriott parking lot. Then I just...stopped. For once, I blocked out that little voice and I thought to myself, let's face it: Here's a movie that I really liked, but admitted in my blog entry, the other night, "I can't guarantee you'll want to see it over and over again (it's not that kind of movie), but I recommend you see the film at least once." That was all I needed. I headed back into my building, grabbed my iPod and listened to The Killers for the rest of my break, satisfied with my decision.

Ah, logic. Gotta love it.

I mean, really, at the end of the day, they're just...things. In the end, I can't take 'em with me. So, I've come to the following realization: If it bothers me so much to look at them, maybe I should just sell a good 400 of them or, at least, the ones I don't want anymore. I'm thinking that's going to be my endgame: sell what I want, save the money and use the small fortune I make to help take me to greener pastures (i.e. Minneapolis, the Phoenix/Scottsdale area in AZ or Philly). If there's one thing I'm beginning to learn, it's this: if you want to be happy, then be happy.

In other words, if getting rid of the things that have caused as much grief as happiness--in this case, DVDs, not unlike the weed--is going to improve my quality of life, then so fuckin' be it, man!! Who cares if it goes against what everyone thinks of me?! So what if it cancels out all of the wasted time and effort I put forth in building that monster movie collection?! This is my LIFE!!

I mean, for as long as I can remember, I've been The Guy Who Knows All About the Movies or That Guy Who Has All the DVDs. Hell, for years, I would feel like I had to justify myself when people would get irritated with me for making everything about movies. I'd say something like, "Hey, that's just me!! I'm the Movie Guy!!" I'd wear the moniker with pride. And while that's still part of who I am, I have to believe that I've grown up and have become more than just The Movie Guy.

As time has worn on--especially these last few months--I've come to realize that no one should ever be boiled down to a simple nickname.

Really, we are worth so much more than that!

These Are the Days...

You know, I wish everyone could have a day like the one I had today. There aren't too many where I can just say it was perfect, but today...it was just that. It was perfect.

Granted, I'm running on less than five hours of sleep (no wonder I'm so happy!!), but today, I awoke with an extra spring in my step. I got ready for work, ate a nice breakfast (Raisin Bran...yes, quite possibly the most boring breakfast cereal in the world, but hey...if Mikey likes it--wait...wrong cereal. Nope. You were right. It is world's most boring cereal. Hate away.) and I got into work early, only to find that my work station had been decorated by some of my friends and co-workers. Not only that, but a (belated) birthday card had been placed on my desk filled with birthday wishes from nearly all of my peers. There was absolutely no white space left. It was filled up. OK...at this point, y'all know I'm an emotional guy, but that card hit me deep.

Later on, I made a play date with my friend Christina for next Wednesday. I'm going to cook that Mexican dish I wrote about last week. It will be interesting to see how that works out. Her gas stove is way cooler than my electric!!! The thing is, it's been a long time since she and I have hung out together. Way back in the day, we would get together all the time. Then we had a bit of a fallout. Little by little, I'm starting to learn that my oversensitive nature has the tendency to piss a lot of people off--and rightfully so. Somewhere along the line, I must have forgotten to read the memo that no one likes a martyr. Like I said, I'm learning, but education can be really expensive!! Anyway, yeah...I'm a happy camper. She's like a sister to me and it will be good to spend time with her.

After I left work, I picked up two quarts of Chinese white steamed rice ($4.28?!?! Are you fuckin' kidding me?!?! It's RICE!!!) to go with dinner. Once that was taken care of, I grabbed "Children of Men" at Hollywood Video. I'll get to that in a bit.

Finally, in keeping with my new tradition, I made dinner for my lovely and amazing friend Tina. Before I forget to mention it, she bought me some gym clothes for my birthday. They're frickin' sweet!!! Finally, a pair of shorts that doesn't show off my package in an embarrassing, entirely unintentional way!! I'm movin' up in the world people!! Woo-hoo!!

The dish of the evening was Chef X's Almost General Tsao Chicken recipe. I'll be honest, I was scared shitless about making it. I mean, it calls for so many ingredients!! Plus, things, like, have to boil and simmer!! How the fuck does that even work?! For me, this was absolutely a trial by fire. I didn't call anyone for help. It was just me, a pot and the good General Tsao.

And ya know what? It was easy. I didn't have any problems handling the chicken, this time around, I followed the directions nearly to the letter and it turned out beautifully. When I had previously asked Chef X about how long it would take to make, she said it took her about an hour from start to finish. That was pretty much right on the money with me as well. It was so delicious!! Hell, I'll even pull a Rachael Ray (and I can't stand that broad!!): It was YUMMO!! Plus, unlike last week, my dining companion really seemed to appreciate the meal (Derek later spilled the beans--yes, pun intended--that he wasn't a huge fan of the magical fruit...might have been nice to know before I made it. You'd think the whole I'm making a bean dish would have set off some alarm bells, but alas...). She even asked for the recipe after we finished. I was super jazzed about that, thank you very much!!

I will admit, though, that I think I should have doubled the amount of ingredients and chicken, because when it was all said and done, there wasn't a lot to go 'round. As for the white steamed rice, only one quart was needed--not two ($4.28!!!!)

Oh! As an appetizer, I also served the last little bit of Asiago cheese dip that I made, last Friday. I served it with cut-up pieces of toasted French bread with a little olive oil drizzled on it. OK...Chinese food and Asiago dip...I get it...it's a weird combination, but no one can fault me for wanting to be eclectic.

After dinner, Tina and I adjourned to the living room and watched "Children of Men." It's a great movie; one that has a lot on its mind. The long tracking shots are some of the most haunting pieces of cinema you'll see any time soon. And Clive Owen? The man is just the perfect antihero. He just smolders in the film and yet, he brings a ton of vulnerability to his role of Theo. Check the movie out. I can't guarantee you'll want to see it over and over again (it's not that kind of movie), but I recommend you see the film at least once. It's amazing. You might not get the fuss at first, but it really does stay with you.

Once Tina left, I took the movie back and picked up some more green onions to make another batch of the Asiago dip. See, my best buddy Justin is coming over tomorrow night and I promised the man we'd have some wine, bread and dip (what can I say? We've gone metro!). So, there I was at midnight...making dip. Wow!! If someone told me six months ago that I'd be mixing mayo and sour cream into the wee hours of the morning, I would have though that they were stoned. Of course (hehehe!), if it had been six months ago, they probably would have been, as would I. My, how things change!!

And so, here I am, writing this blog entry. Listen, as you may have come to realize by now, this is not the style I normally write in. In fact, people who write the events of their day like a friggin' boring-ass journal entry make me wanna puke. Today, though--today is diferent. For the first time in years, I didn't think to myself, did I make it?! To those who read this, it may not seem like the most exciting day, but when life can be so complex, melodramatic and oppressive that it's sometimes hard to get out of bed to face it, it's nice to know that the little things still matter.

Today was the kind of day that makes one smile and look forward to tomorrow...

12:01

I was sitting in my car at 12:01 on March 24. Today. My birthday.

No, this isn't me twisting or exaggerating the truth around for the emotional impact of this particular blog entry. It really was 12:01 on my dashboard clock. Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" was playing on my stereo and then it happened...

***

I want to take you somewhere very personal in this entry. I want to take you to a different time and a very specific place. It's the night of November 18, 2006. Last year. The place is, well, inside my shower (try and block out the imagery, people). I'm standing silently, hands splayed against the cream-colored tile wall, while a cascade of water pelts me from the side. It is there that a single thought will change everything for me: I want to start my life.

See, up until that point, as I've mentioned in past blogs, I was smoking pot and, well, just doing a lot of other stupid stuff. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it all. It's part of my life and what's done is done. No regrets. But let's think about it for a second: It's pretty pathetic when the highlight of your entire week is waking up and getting blitzed out of your skull on Saturdays while watching movies alone in your dark apartment until bedtime.

Up until November 18, that was pretty much my life. I was a broke pothead living paycheck to paycheck with an impulse control problem, buying DVD after DVD (think something around 4-5 a week) with reckless abandon.

And then, one night, I took a long, hot shower. I entered as one person and exited as another, new and free. I gathered up all of my pot paraphernalia (i.e. pipes, one-hitters, bongs...everything) and threw it all into a white plastic trash bag. I put my shoes on, grabbed a jacket and headed toward the dumpster. Once I reached it, I looked at the garbage bag filled with things that had, up to this point, been so important to me. It was a bag that represented so many great times, so many memories. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and heaved that motherfucker into an abyss of rotten food, old magazines and fecal matter.

Somehow, I managed to walk away smiling.

Next, I took my glass container of some of the finest sticky bud you can get your hands on and shook its contents out and into the toilet. I had a mission and I was not about to deviate from it. I flushed the toilet. No, I won't lie to you. That was hard!! And yes, I waved goodbye as I watched the last bits of herb flush out of my life. I haven't smoke marijuana since that night.

The day after Thanksgiving, I was helped out financially by my parents--it was an early Hanukkah present, my mom said--and by about two weeks later, I was back in the saddle again.

But I still had unfinished business.

To use a line from Good Will Hunting, I had to go see about a girl. You see, earlier in the year (around July), I had met this gal on J-Date (a Jewish dating site) whom I found to be kind of intriguing but also kind of weird since she had this odd thing against using a phone. We chatted a few times and we seemed to click pretty well. Unfortunately, I ran out of money and had to cancel my premium (read: paying) membership. Stupid me. I forgot to get her e-mail address. What's worse was the fact that I could see that she was e-mailing me all along through J-date, but I was powerless because I couldn't contact her due to the fact that I was, well, broke as a joke and I couldn't afford to pay the $34.99.

Long story short and without going into detail, once I finally got the scratch from my parents (they will never, ever know how grateful I am and always will be for their help and support), I contacted this girl again, we hit it off and became involved for a while and several wonderful memories were made. But alas, it didn't work out. It happens. It sucks, but it happens. For the last month, I've been a raw nerve, emotionally. We've tried to do the Friend Thing, but that might not work out either. Everything is up in the air, at this point. For once in my life, I might have to learn to let go. I will say this, though: I discovered something inside myself during the time that we were together. I became a different person, a happier person--the best person. If it can happen once, it will happen again.

But really, it's just been one helluva year, with so many different experiences.

I lost one of my best friends for five months only to have her return as unexpectedly as she left. I will admit, during the time that she was gone, I was miserable, wondering what it was that pushed her away. I'm thankful that I can say it's water under the bridge. I'd like to think we're better friends than we were before. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. I'm lucky to have her and my nephew in my life.

And then there's Norman. I met him a little over ten and a half years ago. He was the kindest, gentlest, most wonderful man you could ever meet. He was 85 when he died, about two months ago. He was the grandfather I always wanted. He may never have known this, but I loved him dearly, with every fiber of my being. I'll never forget him. Even when he wasn't making me laugh out loud, the man always managed to put a smile on my face. Norman, I wish I could say I learned a lot from you, but you gave me books to read and all I did was look at the pictures.

On a more shallow note, I got a new car (alright, alright, alright...it's a lease!), a new cell, a new laptop, and an iPod!!! Plus, I've gone wireless in my apartment!! I'm proud to announce that I have entered the modern age, people!! That's certainly worthy of a hip-hip hooray in my book!!

I've started writing again, thanks to this blog. I feel more confident, more inspired with each new entry. Soon enough, I will start to re-apply myself, career-wise, and with any luck, I'll be where I want to be. After that, things can only go up. If I let them, that is. I'm starting to realize that I have a lot more control over my life than I initially thought. That has to be a good thing, right?

Look, good or bad, this has been a year of losses, gains, growing up, wising up, romance, redemption, light, darkness, happiness, depression, strength, weakness, empowerment, friends, family, life and death...

***

...So, there I was, sitting in my car, on March 24, Kate Bush singing her heart out, and then, suddenly, I was overcome with this huge wave of emotion. It's like someone injected me with a syringe full of all my memories as a 25-year-old: The happiness, the laughs, the pain. And I just started crying. I cried harder than I've cried in a long, long time. This lasted for a good 30 seconds. It couldn't have been more than that, really. Unlike most other times when I cry, though, these weren't tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. It was then that, after 26 years, I finally realized...I love my life.

When I finally got out of my car at 12:02, another thought crossed my mind, not unlike the one that hammered itself home in my brain when I was taking a shower on that seemingly ordinary night in November:

I still have so much to do.

The Writer's Curse

It's not easy being a writer. I marvel at how some people can just say what they want to say--no problem, no hesitation. I wish I could be like that. There are so many times where I wish I could just say what I wanted to say--right then and there--and not have to resort to a computer keyboard or a pen to say it. It's not fun. It's not nice. It's not attractive. And yet, there are things that just need to be said in any way, shape or form that you can communicate them.

Today, I wrote something that wasn't easy for me to write. At all. In fact, it broke my heart to write it, because I never thought it would get to the point where I needed to say it.

While honesty truly is the best policy, sometimes, the truth just really fucking hurts.

And it hurts everyone.

The Pampered Chef

Let's get this little tidbit of info out of the way: I eat dinner at my mom's every night. No, this is not an exaggeration. I eat at my parents' house every single night. Well, OK...on Saturdays, I give mom a day of rest from me. Hell, even G-d needed a day off, right?

The sad thing is, three years ago, when I moved into my own place, for the first, oh, week or two, I was a cookin' fool. I mean, I went grocery shopping, I made some pretty cool pasta and chicken dishes and then...well, let's just say that H-Def's grocery lists and recipes went--how do I put this delicately?--up in smoke. Yes, once again, Hal's Stoner Phase comes into play again. After that, there was no more olive oil or ravioli; no more grilled chicken. No more marinara sauce and Parmesan cheese.

But let's just face the facts alright? Cooking had never been my thing anyway. Then again, neither has muti-tasking. I like things done, one at a time. It's just the way I am. I mean, the idea of stirring, slicing, and heating shit, all at the same time, is stressful enough--in my mind anyway--to make a blood vessel burst in my eye. Making a three-cheese, cream cheese omelette's really the best I've ever been able to do. Don't laugh, though. I make a mean fuckin' omelette (secret ingredient? Basil leaf)!! And ladies, just think: This is what you could be waking up to in the morning!! Am I a catch or what?!?!

So, needless to say, tonight was a big night for me. It was the grand re-opening of H-Def's Kitchen. I cooked this tasty-as-hell Mexican chicken and bean recipe that was passed down to me from a chef extraordinaire named X.

Let's rewind just a teensy bit. On a whim, last Thursday night, I went grocery shopping. What can I say? I just felt the urge to do something constructive with my time. Who'd a thunk it, right? Afterward, I felt even more inspired. It was then that I swore to myself that this upcoming Monday, on my day off, I was going to MAKE breakfast. Not instant oatmeal. Not raisin bran. A real home-cooked breakfast.

So, on Monday, I made myself that omelet mentioned earlier, some toast and I washed it all down with some OJ. It was better than any breakfast I'd had in years. Yes, it was even better than leftover Chinese on Sunday mornings--good times!!

So, I thought to myself, if I can do this, why can't I make something else? What's holding me back, right? So, with that, I asked Chef X for a recipe to start me on my culinary journey. She answered with only this: "Make this. This is good."
So wise is she.

Mexican Chicken and Beans

1 lb chicken breast strips for stir-fry
1 package (1.25 oz) Old El Paso® taco seasoning mix
1 can (15 oz) Progresso® black or pinto beans, drained, rinsed
1 can (11 oz) Green Giant® Mexicorn® whole kernel corn with red and green peppers, undrained
¼ cup water
Tortillas, if desired

1. Spray 10-inch skillet with cooking spray. Add chicken to skillet; cook over medium-high heat 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until no longer pink in center.
2. Stir in seasoning mix, beans, corn and water. Cook over medium-high heat 8 to 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until sauce is slightly thickened.
3. Serve with tortillas.

So, it was supposed to be an easy dish. Nothing that would "break the bank" or cause too much stress in its preparation. Yeah, look whose blog you're reading. Yeah, you got it: World's Biggest Freak.

Let's start out by saying, I hate handling raw chicken. It's disgusting. It's wet, slimy and it makes my hands sticky and all ooey-gooey. However, chicken was what X's recipe called for, so chicken it was!! I chopped the chicken up and neatly placed the strips into the pan. I was good to go.

But WAIT!!! What about salmonella?! Shouldn't I rinse the chicken of its nasty juices? What if I don't and Derek (my dining companion/guinea pig) and I eat it and die?!?! I mean, I saw this episode of "House" where he like pulled a 50' tapeworm out of some chick's gut! Could that happen to me?! That would really SUCK!!!! So, I quickly pulled the chicken out and rinsed it in a strainer. After that, I cleaned the pan to get any of that bacteria-infested juice out. THEN I put the chicken in.

Still, there was some clear liquid floating around. Can't have THAT!! I kid you not, readers, when tell you that I had my own little Buster Keaton silent film going on in the privacy of my own kitchen as I attempted to pour out any excess liquid into the sink without spilling the chicken and burning myself. OK, yeah...It got to the point where even I was finally like fuck it. I'll live. Besides, I'm due for another weekly doc appointment anyway. The last part was a joke, people, so you can stop shaking your heads now. Thank you!

After about 20 minutes or so, the whole thing was done. Yeah, I did it in my own crazed Hal way, but it was sooooo worth it!! It was delicious, sure, but it was great feeding someone for a change. That is, feeding someone in a way that didn't involve asking whether they wanted some more Triscuits. Truth be told, one of the reasons I don't usually cook is because after all of the work and time put in, everything gets eaten so quickly. What's the point, right? Besides, it's kind of lonely just cooking for one.

From the spicy Mexican aroma that filled my house to biting into that first piece of (cooked, thank you!!) chicken, this experience filled me with a hope that, even after years of leaching off the parental units' food supply, plus a million more excuses and "I can'ts," it's never too late to start trying. In fact, I've decided to make Tuesday a special night for cooking. That's right, every Tuesday night, I am going to cook a new dish for a special guest (more are invited, too! Y'all don't be strangers, ya hear?!).

As many of you may have noticed, these last few weeks, I really have been trying to see what I'm made of, see what it's like to step outside the big, cozy plastic bubble that has been my somewhat sheltered existence. Now, I know that making one meal doesn't make me Top Chef by any means. I know I'm not the most resourceful person in the world and, yeah, I still have a lot of fears and issues to work on (who doesn't?), but I do think this first step in cooking has made one thing crystal clear:

It's never too late to take yourself off the back burner.

"The Holiday:" Are You Not Entertained?!

So, the other night, after my Moment, I plopped down on my couch and watched Nancy Meyers' ("Something's Gotta Give," "What Women Want") "The Holiday" on DVD. It was light-as-a-feather, clichéd, and and about as predictable as you can get in terms of rom-coms.

And I loved every second of the damn thing!!

The film stars Kate Winslet as love-sick, lonely Iris and Cameron Diaz as the shallow, emotionally-distant Amanda. The simple premise involves the two women switching living spaces on either side of the pond for a two-week, um, holiday. It's during this time, they find themselves and--you guessed it, you cinematic geniuses, you!!--L-O-V-E.

That's it!! That's all you need to know!! This isn't "Memento," folks!!

This should come as no surprise to many people (i.e. The Haters and Pretentious Film Snob types in my life) who know me: I'm a sucker for heart-tugging sentiment ("The Family Stone," "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants," anyone?), a whore for mindless entertainment (anything from Michael Bay--the director of "The Rock" and Armageddon"--is pretty much irresistible to me. Though, I cross the line at "Pearl Harbor") and indefensible pulp trash (Last year's "Running Scared" was the ultimate example of this and I ate up every single last morsel of it, as if it were my last meal; the year before that, it was Rob Zombie's "The Devil's Rejects").

So, yeah, I like a lot of movies that most critics turn their noses at. Hell, I lost two "friends" for giving the campy--and fun--awfulness that was "Coyote Ugly" a pass, going as far as buying it on DVD, the moment it hit shelves. What can I say? I want to be entertained, dammit!! I know I'm repeating myself when I write this, but I rather be entertained than educated or intellectually stimulated. Personally, watching Cate Blanchett in "Babel" piss herself because of a bullet wound just doesn't have the same emotional resonance as seeing the dowdy Kate Winslet (only in the movies, people!) find a kindred spirit in the portly Jack Black.

Why is it that film critics, these days, have to bash a movie for wanting to do nothing more than give you a good time? I'll tell you: They want to see something that they haven't seen before. They want something that will make them say, "wow! That's so new, so interesting and therefore, so wonderful!!"

BZZZZ!! WRONG!!

As the British say, that's absolute bullocks!! That high-minded, snobbish mentality annoys the hell out of me! See, I've always taken pride in that I'm able to examine each movie at face value. Sure, there will always be movies that resemble other movies (I mean, come on! Everyone knows "E.T." was clearly a generic rip-off of "Mac & Me"). Most movies don't pretend that they are different. Sure, there are bound to be some that, well, suck balls, but it's unfair to punish a movie that is as entertaining, sweet, charming, heartwarming and funny as "The Holiday," simply because it's been done before or that it's not particularly deep.

I mean, what do the critics want? Would they have liked the film better had the emotionally-distant Diaz started making out with the love-sick, lonely Winslet on top of a mountain while they herd sheep?! Ooooh...that would be sooo edgy!!! Maybe shark tooth-grinned Black could whip out a camcorder and videotape the luscious girl-on-girl action a la "Sex Lies & Videotape." How provocative!! Better yet, Jude Law's dewy-eyed single father could pull out a baggie of coke and start snorting it around his utterly adorable kids. The film is so REAL!!

Wait!! OK, yeah, I'll admit it. I'd probably see that film, too. But still...

While it may not be the most insightful, edgy film in the world, "The Holiday" certainly didn't need to be as critically-reviled as it was when it hit the theatres, during this last Christmas season. It was exactly what it set out to be: A sparkling romantic romp about love lost and, eventually, found. What can I say? I was moved. I cried as much as I laughed. The film was just what I needed: Rock-solid entertainment!!

Then again, who knows?

Maybe some sheep really would have just knocked the sucker right out of the park!