But, lately, whenever anyone gives me grief about the movies I’ve deemed good enough to own, I have a response:
There’s a moment.
When we think of our favorite movies, do we think about how great the movie was, how amazing the cast performed, how wonderful the soundtrack is?
Well, yes. Those are things you take into consideration.
But, usually, you have a moment. You have that one scene in the film where you were all in. It’s not a forgotten art. The Moment is a gut-punch. It’s the emotional moment that grabs you by the throat and pulls you in. When you see the Moment, you know there’s so much more, something deeper there. Something more to be mined.
And, there can only be a Moment. You can’t make a whole movie of Moments. Without what surrounds it, a Moment is nothing. The rest of the movie can be awful, as long as it has that one, great Moment to raise it above everything else.
The Moment is more prevalent in dramas, but it also comes in other movies. It doesn’t matter how many fight scenes, how great the CGI, without a Moment, it’s just another movie.
I’m a Moment Hunter. And, it’s not easy. Not every movie has one. You have to dig through a lot of garbage to find any treasure. As a writer, I always wonder if I can capture a Moment. Will I recognize it when it floats through my brain? Will it mean as much to me as it would to a reader or a viewer?
What’s your favorite Moment? Is there a movie you love just for its Moment?
Today, someone started following one of my playlists on Spotify. I’m not sure if there is an established standard reaction to this. Should I be honored? Is it an honor? Should I be insulted that so few people are following my playlist?
Regardless of how I’m supposed to feel, I’ll share how I did feel.
Someone is following one of my playlists. MY playlist. My PLAYLIST.
Do you know how long it has taken me to cultivate this playlist?
Eons of listening to Pandora, days of hunting through Spotify playlists, hours of sifting through b-sides and YouTube bootlegs to find that which I desire most: a playlist that encompasses everything I want to listen to at any given time. This is mixtape gold, my friends. Mixtape gold without the need to limit the time to some arbitrary cassette tape length. A mixtape with a shuffle button. Every song ready to be played at maximum volume and belted out into the void.
And someone else can just…listen to it.
And, while I don’t take umbrage at this person and her clearly impeccable taste, there’s something about it that feels like such a violation.
This list is full of music I listen to when writing. It’s full of guilty pleasures and contemplative musings. It’s a look into my inner psyche that I’m not sure I want the world knowing about. When someone follows my playlist, I can’t explain myself. I can’t tell you why this song made it over another. I need to be able to tell you why!
It’s a lost art, the mixtape. It’s too bad it’s a lost art, because nowadays, our brushes are so much more sophisticated. Now everyone can see this thing that you poured a little bit of your soul into. In a world of oversharing, my playlist must be mine and mine alone.
After all, the mixtape can define you.
Finished painting the test piece. We did a base coat of plasti dip so the spray paint would have something to adhere to, added some scrollwork, then spray painted with antique pewter color spray paint.
I made a deal with myself. If I could get a pro pass to San Diego Comic Con, I would cosplay one out of four days. Well, here I am, with my comic con pro pass, and I need to either put up or shut up.
I already have my costume for this year. I will have a post on that during comic con (so I can gauge people’s reactions; also, I don’t want to ruin the surprise). While working on the details of my costume, I found it quite relaxing and soothing, a great hobby that helps me wind down.
That’s right. I’ve just gone up to the next level of nerd. I’m a cosplay nerd.
So, next year, will be much more detailed and much more work.
I recruited my dad to help and we came up with a plan. The plan is basically EVA foam is magic.
We cut out our foam and used wires to secure it. I’m not a fan of using the wires in the future. It leaves divots. We heated the foam with a heat gun. Times vary. The foam is really flimsy and we’re still trying to think of ways to reenforce it.
I used more of the foam to add some detailing. I used a hot glue gun to adhere the pieces. There’s a little spillage because hot glue’s not the most precise of glue, but you can use the heated tip of the gun to remelt what’s spilled over and smooth it out. The glue does not melt the foam.
This is our test piece. Next, we’re going to try paint methods.
Ultimately, the goal is this.
It’s a start.
Snow cones are a southern thing. Should that be a capital? A Southern thing? Yes. That looks more Paula Deen-ee.
When I first moved to Texas, the kids in class with me talked about snow cone stands. Which one was the best, which one was adequate, and which ones to avoid all together.
My Yankee brain didn’t understand this. What’s the big whup with snow cones? Any Northerner who has left a can of pop in the garage in January…homemade snow cone.
Now, ice cream. Ice cream I get and ice cream is something the North does right. I don’t care what your personal Southern ice creamery is, but I put it up against Sherman’s in South Haven, MI any day of the year.
Well, that’s my rant about snow cones. And that’s why I drew this picture (which is mostly traced from the Internet) for ice cream, not snow cones.
Bobby is Bobby Drake AKA Iceman from the X-men. I wish this was a t-shirt.