Just an Illustrator. No biggie.

IT IS TIME, SIR CHRISTOPHER, said Death.

"Certainly. I'm quite ready," replied Christopher Lee in a clear, firm tone of voice.

Death paused at this simple declaration, as if trying to work something out.

ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME?

Kicking back with an appletini and enjoying The 13th Warrior with the family. Seriously, not enough love for that masterpiece. RIP Michael Crichton.

'Lo, there do I see my father. 'Lo, there do I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers.
'Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. 'Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them.
In the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever.

Seriously. Last year this little 30-second clip did more to bring me out of a pre-holidays funk than anything else, and it appears to be doing so again this year.

This was this month's "The Bird Weekend" for mama_hogswatch and myself, which is always cause for small celebrations. Much goofing around and general-purpose sillyness as is usual when there's a 12 year-old girl in the house. Much giggling over Jonas Bros. and Co. (y'know, read that way it looks like the name of an old and established shipping business). nomoretoast was over Friday night as well and we all went out for dinner.

( Cut for lengthy spiritual stuff, scenes of graphic Catholic torture, and pointless yammering about comic book heroes. Oh, and Torchwood. )

Inside of a week, an individual (I won't call her a co-worker even though we work for the same employer) has given me:

"I'm allergic to that."
"Oh, but that makes me dizzy."
"My hip won't let me do that."
"My back hurts."
"I'm allergic to that too."
"But I can't sit like that."
"I could never do that, it would make me so dizzy."
"It's too cold in here."

That's eight "I can't"s in five days. I counted. That's just too many. I'm not going to make conversation with this person anymore or chat with her on the bus. Not going to be rude or discourteous, I'm just penciling her out of my life. I'll sit elsewhere or take a different bus. Her nonstop defeatism is frankly starting to suck me down with her. I frequently need to cue up Rollins Band's "Up For It" after associating with this woman.

I think on this in the aftermath of Bob's life celebration --I swear there must have been 200 or more people in there --folks whose lives had been touched by Bob in some way. I look at that and reflect on how much Bob accomplished in his life; as noelfigart put it, fully rounded and leaving nothing incomplete. There was so damned much to celebrate. I contrast that with a tale once told to me by moonstaff's mom --about a relative (I want to say an aunt, although I may have it wrong) who as a teen managed to work up enough courage to head to New York City to try out a new career path. The first week in the city, her apartment got robbed and it devastated her, sent her flying back to her rural hometown, and she never set foot out of it again for the next 60 years. moonstaff's mom told me that there were perhaps 15 people at this woman's funeral and none of them really had much to say or reflect upon --that her life had essentially been a day-to-day process of sitting around complaining, and waiting to die.

Mareli, I should add, was also most emphatically NOT an “I can’t” person. A situation might have been difficult, or challenging, or not solvable right away, but it was never a flat-out “I can’t.” That's ninety years' worth of living without those two words ever escaping her lips. Think on that.

I think I just need to just cut more of that kind of thing out of my life path. I'm way too close to 40 to expend energy on Special Little Snowflakes^TM who seem only to be able to define themselves in terms of what they can't do --boasting about it, even. What a cop-out. Worshippers at the altar of self-pity. You have a medical condition, you take steps to fix it. You have a handicap, you adapt to it. Something's impeding your forward motion, you figure out a work-around.

(And y'know something? I find that the more years go by, the more I hear a "But I caaaaaan't" out of someone, the more it actually sounds like a "But I don't waaaaana.")

I guess I really just need to delete the "I can't" folks from my day-to-day roster, and work instead on associating more with the sort of folks who can do, no matter how many difficulties arise. The change really does start with me.

My tribute to one of the greatest human beings this planet was lucky enough to ever have walking on it:

Click for full-sized image.

I love you, Bob. Gonna try as hard as I can to live my life by your example, no apologies. Say hi to my Grayma and lucinda_j for me, huh?

Wear your freakin' life jacket. I don't care how skilled your seamanship, just put the life jacket on. And tell everyone you love to do the same. EVERY TIME.

http://www.vnews.com/05032008/4835548.htm

Christopher Reeve, 1952-2004

I don't know why this piece of news is hitting me so hard this morning. I've had to duck out and find someplance private to shed some tears twice already. I guess it's because Mr. Reeve brought something primal to life for me, and indeed for so many of us. Though his talents as an actor certainly extended far beyond the blue tights and the "S" shield, for me he'll always be the definitive Man of Steel (just as George Reeves was undoubtedly just as "definitive" for the generation before me).

Superman emerged out of the Depression years on cheaply-printed pages and re-energized a belief in heroism that America was desperately lacking at the time. Richard Donner's film did that again in 1978. Eerily, I was just WATCHING the movie with my family only a couple of nights ago. The one scene that never fails to thrill me is Superman's first triumphant public appearance --of course we all know Lois Lane's hilarious "You've got me? Who's got YOU?" line, but for me the shivers come immediately after, when the helicopter breaks loose from the rooftop and starts to plummet to the crowded streets. With ONE HAND 'ol Supes grabs it and hauls it back to safety. It is the spontaneous, thunderous applause of the crowd below that really moves me --the spirit of the hero has been resurrected again, and you can almost FEEL the collective sigh of relief washing over everyone.

Thank you, Mr. Reeve, for re-enabling that belief.