La La Land

I usually write about t.v. and movies on my other blog, moviejingo.blogspot.com (shameless self-promotion), but I've been neglecting this blog ever since my last post, where I tried to warn America about "Mr. Orange". Since then, I've mostly been alternating between reading Lemony Snicket books, working with my kids, and trying to write my next script.

And I voted for president. In June and November. The Empire won, so now I've Star Wars-edly joined the resistance. Not much of a resistance, though. It consists mostly of gawking incredulously at endlessly ghastly news articles and spending twenty to thirty minutes at a time starting at Twitter, trying to think of a good comeback to anger Pepe the Frog.

This usually leads to me calmly closing my laptop and walking away. Usually.

Today was different. I stayed home after learning my new buddy, sore throat, was here to stay at least all day. But rather than staying home, I went to see La La Land, one of the best decisions I've ever made.

The movie is solid gold. Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone are perfect together. And Director Damien Chazelle made it feel like a modern film from the 1950's. So while it is nostalgic, it's also unique enough to be its own thang (yes, "thang"). They set the bar high for every movie we'll ever see from here on out.

I'm not exaggerating. It's like the show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, the movie The Artist, and Chazelle's Whiplash all rolled in one. But here's the twist-- La La Land contrasts the romanticized idea of "Hollywood" with the drab reality of Hollywood.

You will love them.

Funny enough, I saw the movie in the heart of Hollywood, and I felt very close to the film, which made it feel more and less spectacular. For example, I recognized the Warner Brothers lot in the movie from my time working there, which is always fun. But when I recognize where a movie was filmed, it feels less mysterious. Nothing wrong with the movie. Something wrong with me.

On my drive home, I listened to the radio and kept thinking about La La Land, the chemistry between Gosling and Stone. I thought about the romances I've had, my old friendships that could have been something more, and the beautiful women I've met whom I was too diffident to admit I adored (say that ten times fast).

The song I was talking to myself over ended and the DJ mentioned today's electoral college results, and the fact that the one person who should never be president now legally has to be inaugurated.

I went from flying through the clouds to trudging through the swamp.

On the plus side, I got to see this movie and I hope you do, too.

I will warn you that there are some loud moments in the film. And I mean LOUD. A fire alarm goes off in a scene where Gosling and Stone are having dinner and some of us were left wondering if it was the theater's alarm. Then Ryan Gosling went to the stove and we were all relieved because we didn't have to die.

Weeds

I was driving to work yesterday and saw a guy trimming weeds on the sidewalk with a brush cutter. They were growing out of the concrete in a circle, which probably had a plant in the center at some point, but maybe the plant got cancer and had to make meth to pay for its medical bills and died fighting the police.

Or maybe I watch too much t.v.

The point is that when I saw the weeds being trimmed, I wondered why the guy wasn't pulling the weeds out from their roots. And then I remembered my time in elementary school, when my class and I were out on the yard, picking weeds during designated class time because our neurotic teacher told us we had to "help the principal with something." The principal was a tough-looking Japanese man with glasses and an eyepatch. He was out there with us, overseeing our work with a casual stroll. He was alright, as far as I knew, but only because my elementary school experience felt like Saved by the Bell. I performed comedy in the school's annual talent shows and had casual conversations with this principal when it came to preparation. He even offered to lend me some high-end magic rings for my joint magic/comedy act.

Sometime in the past few years, I told a friend about how my school tricked us into doing their groundskeeping work. He told me that's very illegal.

The way I see it, the idea of a bunch of 5th graders toiling in the afternoon sun while their stoic principal from Pirates of the Caribbean 3 makes sure none of them escapes might make for a horrifying, yet entertaining dystopian novel. All it's missing are some zeppelins in the sky and an Indiana Jones-type hero to come save those children from the tyranny of pulling out weeds, which is unpleasant, but there are worse things in the world.

There You Are!

I miss this blog. Been meaning to come back to it for about half a year. Got kind of obsessed with my new job that I got back in August and couldn't figure out how to nudge my thoughts back in here the "right way", but I figure it's now or never.

So, expect more of my current wild shenanigans and quasi-ancient anecdotes in the near future.

I was hit with nostalgia today when seeing a friend's FaceBook video of her and family having fun on a Disneyland ride, one that I used to work on. And I realized how much of a punk I was when working as a ride operator. With constant pressure from leaders and management to load what they'd refer to as "as many people as possible", there were times when my primary thoughts during eight hour shifts at Disneyland would be "break the record-- don't fall behind-- break the record-- don't fall behind!" I didn't know if I was going to get fired if I didn't load fast enough, but higher-ups were often ominous when talking about the importance of reaching what we'd call "counts", which were the company's ideal amount of Disneyland guests that got through every ride per hour. This is why dark rides are programmed to automatically shutdown if a car is not sent into the ride for a certain amount of seconds. Obviously, ride operating procedures aren't meant to come off as oppressive for the employee or the fun-havers (for lack of a better word), but it seemed pretty contradictory-- don't let park guests have too much fun or they'll take longer to get on and off the ride, which will annoy the other guests, who were waiting like they once were. Load them on fast, and get them off as quick as you can. Do this over and over again until the park closes.

If you know me, you know I love to be sociable (in my weird, antisocial way). I love talking to people. I did this a lot at Storybook Land, especially when waiting on the dock for boats to arrive, and in the boats when there were guests that were eager to talk... granted, some of them were a little too eager, like the young adults who asked me to give them the "naughty" Storybook tour (which I declined).

In regards to loading guests on rides, there were times where I genuinely wanted to talk to people, and there were times where all I could think was "Oh, my God-- Could you hurry up and get off? Push the restraint UP! GAH! You're killing my counts!"

Some days I can't believe I was an attractions host, operating rides I was never trained to know the way that Disneyland's maintenance staff does, while still keeping thousands safe.

Not to mention communicating with people who speak all sorts of languages and come with all sorts of attitudes, from apprehensive to overly aggressive. It was fun, of course, but hats off to every attractions host who keeps doing what they do. The pay is enough to keep them in deep poverty, yet they still keep it together every day to provide thousands of strangers new sights and sounds they won't get anywhere else.

Next time you're at a theme park, make sure to thank an attractions host. They might not acknowledge your existence, but that might be because they're having the longest, craziest day of their lives.