“Lighten up, Francis”

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Warning: Long, rambling, downer blog. You might wanna just skip this one.

I really don’t have much to say. I just thought I’d say “hi” (hooray for speech therapy) and whatnot. I’m hoping this steam of consciousness type thing will work out for me.

I’ve been told the saddest movie ever is The War Zone (based on a discussion that took place a while back on this here website a few months ago). I feel like I’m going to take people’s words on that, because I hope I will never, ever see that movie. I was only somewhat surprised to hear a movie could affect people so deeply. Pat and I recently got The Pianist from Netflix. The funny (strange) part about it is, Pat asked me if I wanted to see The Piano and I said, “Um, okay.” So, I thought we were going to be watching The Piano, which is a completely different movie than The Pianist. Anyhoo, I figured it out a couple minutes in when I didn’t see any trace of Holly Hunter, and the movie clearly took place during the 1940s rather than the mid-nineteenth century. The truth is, I never wanted to see The Piano anyway.

I have never seen The Piano, and that movie has always made me shudder to think about. Why? Well, when that movie came out, in 1993, I was a little pink-haired video store clerk living in a very rural town in central New York. There was a family in the town that made regular trips to the video store; they were in at least three or four times a week. I always thought the entire family was extremely nice. In fact, they actually stood out to me as what I would consider an exceptional family. One particular day, the husband and wife came into the store without their daughters. For the first time ever, the husband wanted to see one movie (I can no longer remember what that movie was) and the wife wanted to see another movie (The Piano). They actually had a really mini, very quiet tiff in the store. I thought it was very uncharacteristic for them. They ended up renting The Piano.

That night he murdered his wife. I highly doubt the two things are related, but in my mind they always will be.

Also, for the record, people hardly ever get murdered in my home town. There was the one I mentioned, in 1993, and then a girl from my high school (a year older than me) was murdered in 2003, and that’s been it for about a gazillion years.

So, getting back to The Pianist – Pat and I started it on Sunday and haven’t finished it yet. I guess the point of my story is that, even though The Piano makes me sad just to think about (for the reason mentioned above), I have found that The Pianist is probably even more depressing. I watched the hour plus that we saw so far with a permanent wince on my face. I can’t even believe any human could treat any other human wish such complete and utter disrespect. Further, I can’t believe the travesty depicted in that movie was only 60 years ago. It makes me want to bitch-slap Prince Harry with my own bare hand.

In my high school, the event we spent the most amount of time covering was the Holocaust. The thought that other schools may glance over this like any other event in history, or the though that some dumb kid wouldn’t understand it makes me want to cry uncontrollably.

Whew! So this is a big downer for the likes of pnf.com. I tried stream of consciousness and this is what you got. Hopefully if I try this again in the future, I’ll come up with something a little more cheery.

On a lighter note (seriously, no pun intended), Pat and I replaced a ceiling fan / pull-chain light fixture with a lovely, understated normal light fixture. We used a remote-control light switch to avoid the hassle of having to bust through plaster to run the wire. (We were able to just put one hole in the wall rather than three.)

The light switch itself has a 9 volt battery in it, and there is a receiver that is attached to the fixture itself. When you press the button on the switch, PRESTO, light! Rrrrrroooock!



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