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So here’s a little bit of a late blog to further engulf Pat’s last post. Catch up, dude!
This last weekend, Becky and I went to Cannon Beach to celebrate a belated anniversary, and the weather was pretty much perfect. Arriving on Friday, it was sunny and clear enough to enjoy a sunset from the beach. Becky had her camera, I had my sketchbook.
In addition to eating far too much food (roughly enough to nourish a medium-sized refugee camp) we also bought some art and other souvenirs. My favorite was an earthenware coffee mug for work.
The downside? The stupid state of Oregon declared the tidal pools on the beachside of Haystack Rock a “Marine Garden” which means that landlubbing tourists are forthwith prohibited from laying their feet anywhere except “sand or bare rock.” Why? To protect the sea life in those tide pools, of course! Barnacles and anemones are endangered, donchaknow? It’s not like it was an exposed wave-breaking coral reef.
It’s bad enough that we have to put things in cages so we can look at them whenever we want, but now we’re fencing off the world to prevent folks from interacting the natural habitat as well. Did I mention they were also asking for donations to help fund this project?
I donated my lack of respect and general loathing.
So that was my little bit of random activism/renegaderie against the Man, but the remainder of the weekend was terrific. Now, I will hopefullyl be able to finish up the Coming Distractions which is sitting in my sketchbook. See you then!
Occupations of other Nate or Nathan Taylors (according to Google):
Painter (Australia)
Basketweaver (Nantucket)
Child Actor (US)
Thespian (UK)
Track Athlete (Cornell)
Young Republican Chairman (Las Vegas)
Singer/Songwriter (Colorado)
Shipbuilder (UK)
Graphic Designer (Washington)
Security Professional (Denver)
Journalist (Australia)
Wellness Management Grad Student (BSU)
Attorney (Washington DC)
Best Boy Grip (US)
Stuntman (US)
Assistant Location Manager (US)
Fine Artist (Washington)
Musician (California)
Graphic Designer (New York)
Sports Writer (MVN)
Stock Car Racer (US)
That’s right, there are four other Nate Taylors out there who are all artists. Nine, if you count the actors, musicians, and basketweaver. What are the odds? I use this as conclusive scientific proof that if you want your boy to be an artist, naming him “Nathan Taylor” will accomplish that. Or it gives him a 43% chance, at least. The biggest black spot on the Nate Taylors of the world? The former chairman of the Las Vegas Young Republicans (same age as me, incidentally) was in the papers in 2005 for “mishanding” $25,000 and landing himself in some legal hot water. Way to drag us down, Nate.
And now your Zen quote of the day: “Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.” — Mark Twain.
I came to a stark, sudden, and earth-shattering revelation this morning while in the midst of my lather-rinse-repeat cycle. I was thinking about going to see “Live Free or Die Hard” and recalled that my mother had just seen it last weekend. In that same conversation with my mom, she voiced an absolute distaste and disinterest in seeing the new “Transformers” movie. I’m not surprised by this because of the anti-Transformers mentality that was fostered in my childhood. Something about robots with souls being un-Christian. Anyway, upon her unconditional refusal, a metaphor immediately leapt into my mind.
Movies are drugs.
When a new movie comes out, it gets passed around the circle and everyone tries it. They rave and rave and try to get other people to try it too. Studios use peer pressure (“Come on. Ebert liked it. Don’t you want to just try it and see what it’s like?”), and you get constant hounding wherever you go; TV, newspapers, radio, all saying “Go see ‘The Bourne Ultimatum!'” “It’s good, man! You’ll be coming back for more!” And you will.
You’ll get out of a movie, feeling nice and comfy in your life, but soon the feeling fades and you can’t wait for another dose of that feel-good escapism. Pretty soon, you’re asking friends to spot you for a movie. Maybe you even catch yourself trying to organize a youth group activity at your church to go see a movie together. At your church, man!
And the analogy continues.
You can get movies cut or un-cut, directors and studio producers are always looking for their next hit, and you can get domestic or imported movies (domestics are easier to handle, but imported ones can give you a better buzz). But beware, the movie culture can be just as dangerous as its illicit cousin.
Let’s say you get approached by a dealer who tells you he’s got something that’s just as funny as “Dumb and Dumber.” You’re interested. “Dumb and Dumber” was some good stuff, yeah? “It’s called ‘Dumb and Dumberer.'” So you try it, and wham! You realize you’ve just been slipped some contraband, home-made, amateur, ethanol-heavy comedy that’s gonna leave you wishing you’d never even heard of movies.
Everybody’s had a bad ride. We’ve all gone to see that movie that made us want to give up on the whole culture; “Eragon,” “Thirteen Days,” “Freddie Got Fingered,” “Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.” Yet we keep coming back. Why? We’re hooked. But at least some of us have the willpower to break free. When the “Transformers” doobie gets passed to us, some of us will be able to say “No thanks, dude. That ain’t how I roll.”
Just not me.
Out peace.
Edit: I finally changed the blog page to the main page. You may now rejoice.