Thursday, August 03, 2006

I don't really like many movies, which is why I don't see many movies. The last movie I saw in a movie theater was Match Point and it wasn't as great as what I was expecting. The movie I saw before that was The Firm. In 1993. And only because it was the fourth of July and raining. So, in essence, I've seen exactly two non-animated movies in the theater in more than ten years (I make the animated distinction because I have taken my kids to the movies to see Shrek and the like).

I also don't rent many movies because, again, I don't like many movies. See where I'm going with this? But sometimes there's a movie that, for some odd reason, sparks an interest. The Squid and the Whale did that. All I knew about the movie was that it was about a family going through divorce. Not exactly happy stuff. After wanting to see this for a while I finally rented it last weekend. In the middle of it I called my friend, who had also seen it, and said, "Disturbing, indeed." She'd told me she found it disturbing when she watched it. But you know what? I LOVED this movie. So much so, in fact, I actually watched the DVD extras with interviews with the writer/director and all sorts of stuff. I understand that this probably isn't the movie for everyone, but it was absolutely my kind of movie. And if there were more movies like The Squid and the Whale, I'd watch a lot more movies. So if you've seen TSatW and have recommendations for others like it, please let me know. Because 99% of the time I go to Blockbuster and leave empty-handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. They do sell SweetTarts.

posted by J OConnell # 5:11 PM 3 comments

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

My fourth adult book, INSIDER DATING, is due in a few months. As I attempt to finish the manuscript (mercilessly hitting the "word count" button every few minutes), I thought I'd provide a little sample here. At least then I'll feel like I'm making some progress. So, without further ado, here is the prologue and a little tidbit from the first chapter from INSIDER DATING.

Prologue

Have you ever loved someone so much you wish him happiness, even if it’s not with you?
Good luck. Be happy. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Those words sound so bittersweet, so achingly perfect when they’re spoken over soft background music right before the final credits begin scrolling up an oversized screen.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right? When it’s all over and his name is permanently deleted from your Palm Pilot, after you’ve divvied up the wok and all of the accessories you were supposed to use to recreate the sesame chicken from Ming Garden, and returned your now-favorite sleeping shirt to its rightful owner, you’re supposed to wish him well. Because that’s what grown-ups do.

And I thought I was a grown-up. I had all the accouterments of an adult. A job that I couldn’t blow off by pinching my nose shut and pretending to be sick while I left a message on my boss’ voice mail. I had a mortgage that required proof of my dependability and ability to pay bills on time. And I had a reverence for my youth, including an on-going weakness for SweetTarts and the firmly held belief that pink Jelly sandals were the perfect complement to a pair of Jordache jeans with zippers at the ankle.

Adults forgive and then they forget. They bury the hatchet and let bygones be bygones. They learn that to err is human, but to forgive is divine.

But what I learned was that I’m not that forgiving. I want answers. I want an explanation. I want penance.

And, once I finally admitted that, once I said it out loud, I learned something else.

I wasn’t the only one.

They say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But we weren’t scorned, we were armed with experience. We had information, and information is power. In fact, there were enough of us around to form the biggest support group in history – if we wanted to sit around and do nothing but cry into our cold mocha lattes. But I’m not a crier. And I don’t drink coffee. So I had a better idea. Instead, we could create a network that helped women look out for one another. A secret sisterhood. An underground information super highway where women could find the dependable data they needed to avoid mistakes and shitty boyfriends didn’t stand a chance.

And, I was just the person to make it happen.

Score one for the girls.

Chapter One (partial)

We’re expected to remember our first. A first kiss. Our first day of school. The first time we considered the idea that maybe the presents under the Christmas tree had more to do with the locked closet in the basement than a bearded man in a red suit. Firsts are supposed to open up a whole new world to us, to offer a sort of introduction to what lies ahead. In a way, they’re the start of one thing and the beginning of the end for others. A first kiss eventually leads to sex. Kindergarten leads to college. And the realization that Santa Claus is more wishful thinking than Toys ‘R Us gravy train sets us up for a lifetime of last minute shopping and the Christmas Eve rationalization that a pair of one-size-fits-all gloves from the revolving rack beside the Stop n’ Shop check out line is exactly the right gift, no matter who the recipient.

I do remember a lot of firsts, although I’m not sure they’re the monumental occasions everyone expects. There was the first time I realized you should never jump on a trampoline if you have to pee. And the night I first discovered that the only thing worse than bed spins is experiencing the horizontal whirls at 2am. In someone else’s bed. On the top bunk, in a fraternity house where the bathroom doesn’t seem nearly as convenient as simply leaning over the edge of the mattress. The poor guy on the bottom bunk also experienced a first that night. And I’m sure from then on he made it a point to never sleep below another Freshman drunk off keg beer and peach Riunite.

But with all the firsts that have filled my life, the one first I never thought I’d be experiencing was the first anniversary of the end of my marriage.

Now, three hundred and sixty five days after I signed my name with the new Mont Blanc pen Ellie and Claudia bought me especially for the occasion, I was seated at Kingfish Hall for a celebratory lunch. Only the occasion I was celebrating had nothing to do with rejoicing in my ability to successfully navigate the legalities of marital dissolution, and everything to do with the fact that I couldn’t get out of celebrating my co-worker’s birthday.

...TO BE CONTINUED...

posted by J OConnell # 7:15 AM 0 comments

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