Hooray for Today

I have great hopes for 2003. That's an odd sounding year, 2003. Speaking of the way years sound, it's "two thousand three," not "two thousand and three." I can't believe it when supposedly educated people -- people who are paid to speak, for goodness' sake -- say "two thousand and two" or "two thousand and one." Numbers aren't said that way. The word "and" implies that a fraction is forthcoming, like "twelve and one half." How do these people write checks, "one thousand and twenty-five and 50/100?" I'm sure the argument is that it's different when it's a year, but I'm not buying it. If it were so, we'd be saying "twenty oh-two" (like "nineteen oh-two"). I guess I'll just have to file these folks with the people who say the current millennium started in 2000 and think it's acceptable to wear white shoes after Labor Day. Even those folks can't bother me right now.

Happiness of happiness, the Showtunes channel has played 1776, "More" from Dick Tracy, Godspell, and Tommy. I can tell I'll like this DJ.

Time moves so quickly. Yesterday's tragedies fade into the past before they can be properly understood. Processed into our popular culture or personal lexicon, things like 9/11, the dot-com bubble burst, and the 2000 election debacle become less real, less tangible. History is important, we must know what has come before and learn from our mistakes, but some things you can't fix. Sometimes, you have to forget the past and move forward, living in the present. It's horrible to live in the past and foolish to live for the future. What's left but the now? Sure, keep your eye out for the consequences, but what's the point of all this agonizing?

I'm going to make myself happy. I'm the only one who can do it, and I hardly ever try! I can't believe that for so many years (even back in high school), I denied what I really want to do because it wasn't sensible, wasn't a sure way to pay the rent. I'm tired of being sensible. I might as well be dead, or worse, living in Knoxville. Consider, I could be married right now; I had the chance. Living in some hick town, slaving away at a sixth-rate ad agency, breeding and baking and driving a minivan. Ew, gag me with a spoon, please. The real hilarity is that I'm here in New York City doing basically the same thing, without the husband. How stupid. How boring! It's taken a few years for me to regain my courage, but maybe it's that old saying, you have to hit rock-bottom first. Well, kids, watch out, because I'm shooting up through the water fast. I'll be sticking around the Big Apple for a few more years, because this is really the only place for me to do what I want.

Speaking of accomplishments, I got my second stripe on my white belt at karate last night. The last ten classes took forever because I was a slacker, but I should get my next stripe before the end of January. I've got tons of excuses for why I didn't go very much in the last two months, but none of them are any good, because they're just excuses. I was sick, I had cramps, I missed the bus, I was depressed. Oh, please. Those are about as good as my excuses for being late to work. The plain truth was I chose not to go, or if I had been less of a lazy bum, I would have made it. So, let's not dissemble.

I just watched Love! Valour! Compassion! again this week. I love that movie, although it does make me cry a lot. Just like Philadelphia, although the latter doesn't have the funny moments that make it worth a second watching. It also doesn't have the fabulous John Glover. I also watched Little Voice, finally. Jane Horrocks was phenomenal. Bubble is one of the best BritCom characters of the 90s, but this is a truly impressive performance. I would have loved to have seen both movies in their stage versions. Last night, the feature presentation was Carmen Jones, Oscar Hammerstein II's all-black musical set to the music of Bizet's Carmen. It was great, although I wasn't clear why Hammerstein emphasized the Amos n Andy style dialect: "dat" instead of "that," "dere" instead of "there," "I's," "You is," etc. It seemed far too old-fashioned for a movie set in the late forties. I also didn't understand why Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge didn't sing. I guess opera was just a bit out of their ranges. (At least it wasn't Marni Nixon playing Carmen, as she sang for Natalie Wood, Audrey Hepburn and Deborah Kerr!) Dandridge was nominated for an Oscar for that part, and I can see why. I doubt there had been such a strong black female character on screen ever before, much less in a leading lady role. If you haven't seen any of these movies before, go out to your public library and borrow them!