Clifford and I watched The Martian Saturday night. We hadn’t had a date night in forever because of, well, life. So it was great, but for the record, I don’t think he’ll be watching a sci-fi flick with me again anytime soon.

Yes, I am an artist, but, way back when, science was one of my favorite subjects. It was actually one of my best subjects, too.  Then things like chemistry and physics happened (too much math) and let’s just say any interest I had was quickly replaced with tennis, art and a social life. I even tried making a go of it again in college with an astronomy course taught by a former NASA employee. I thought I’d be learning about stars and space not doing more math and watching videos by Carl Sagan. Seriously, it ruins everything (math, not Carl Sagan). So my penchant for needing to understand every plot point coupled with my ridiculous indifference towards science speak means I have questions when watching theoretical futuristic films.

Give me Apollo 13, I’m with you. The Right Stuff? I can follow along.  Hell, even Armageddon was easily understood – big rock v big drill with Aerosmith serenading softly in the distance. These were things that happened or were produced for sheer entertainment purposes that I get. It’s spelled out very clearly. But give me scientific theories being explored through cinematic delineation, well then I have questions that need answers, my friends.

Fast forward to The Martian. I don’t think it helped that we only watched Interstellar a few months ago and Matt Damon and Jessica Chastain were in that as well. So I was struggling in the beginning to wrap my brain around the difference between the two. I don’t know if it’s Hollywood’s portrayals of galactic space missions gone awry or if it’s my attention span these days but a lot of the Gravity/The Martian/ Interstellar type films sort of seem the same at first glance. Till they start throwing theories my way. The Martian intrigued me. The concept of a scientist problem solving for survival – going back to basics and as said in the movie, making science his bitch, was fascinating. It ALMOST made me regret passing notes during chem class in lieu of listening to Mrs. Reagan connect Periodic Table dots for the masses. Almost.

So it began …

Me: How long does it take to send and receive messages between here and Mars?

Me: Don’t astronauts have to make weight?

Me: How did their shit get sealed in those foil bags?

Me: Why do they seal their shit in foil bags?

Me: How does just adding fertilizer to sand make soil?

Me: Wait – how does he know that exactly 2 parts Hydrogen will connect with 1 part Oxygen when he lights the fire? Like what if a third part wants to connect?

Me: How long will the Hydrogen burn?

Me: How does a botanist know all of this engineering tech stuff?

Me: What kind of duct tape is that? We need that duct tape.

Me: So we just left the Pathfinder up there?

Me: Could he really just subsist off of potatoes for that long?

Me: Could he grow anything at all other than potatoes?

Me: Why do they always float down the hall backwards?

Me: Does it really take two years to get to Mars?

Me: So he can only go four hours and then he has to do a solar reboot. Why can’t he finagle it so he can power the thing all day?  The sun is like right there.

Me: How does he puncture a hole in his suit and not essentially implode?

Me: How do they not get vertigo?

Me: How do they avoid black holes? I saw that movie. That movie is scary.

Me: Would the Chinese really help us?

Me: Is that a body double? There is no way that’s Matt Damon. That’s a body double, right?

Ok, so maybe the last two don’t seem scientific, but the last one was definitely, you know, for science. These are things a girl’s got to know when it comes to body doubles and backsides.  *cough*kevincostnerprinceofthieves*cough* I’m about authenticity.

There were many other questions throughout the movie.  Needless to say Clifford thinks I should now keep google on hand for all future viewings of any sci-fi related films. He was a tad … put out.

Though it reminded me how little the effect math, chemistry and Cosmos have had on my day to day understanding of life and the universe in general through the years, I totally recommend the movie. It was well done and really interesting. If this was an actual review, I’d give it two snaps up in a circle and encourage you to go.

I’ve been obsessed with television and movies since I could crawl to the dial flipping it back and forth between The Electric Company and The Brady Bunch. I’ve binged watched with the best of them, but it is time for me to expand my horizons.

I’ve decided to read a book. This is huge for me. This is me adulting. For those who know me, and as I mentioned above, I’m a TV and movie kind of gal. I’m visual. I prefer sequentially moving images to that of the printed static word. Every book assigned in school got the sufficiently skimmed treatment to complete whatever essay, test or quiz was assigned. I never actually took the time to read from beginning to end, cover to cover. I even cheated at Choose Your Own Adventure Books. To be clear – I CHEATED at CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE BOOKS. My attempts at investing in the written meanderings or machinations of the published variety have been limited to Cosmopolitan, Mad and Highlights magazines over the years.  So, as you can see, I’m not a reader.

That said, there are a select few I’ve read through and through, and in most of those cases I read them more than once.  Unfortunately I could likely count that number of fully read books on two hands.

1.      Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire – 8 times. Because I was living in Italy and everything else was in Italian.

2.      Pride and Prejudice- 6 times. Because it’s Pride and Prejudice.

3.      Catcher in the Rye - 4 times. Because I HATED IT THAT MUCH.

4.      A Brave New World – 2 times. Because WTF?

5.      The Princess Bride- 2 times. Because who wouldn’t?

6.      Revolutionary Road – 1 time. Because Kate and Leo totally sold it for me.

Now these are just the through and throughs. Not one missed word or page. Other than that, I’ve fake-read MANY books. All skimmed in some way, shape, form or other. Sometimes I just outright skipped to the end or read the book wrapping to gather the general idea before BSing my way to good grades and teacher’s graces. And for the record — straight A’s in all of my English classes since always, so apparently my half-read-general-gist method works. No cliff notes or Google summaries back in the day. Just pure glancing and guessing earned me those A’s.   Books were time wasters in my opinion. I had tennis to do, friends to see and Dawson’s Creek to watch. I’m ok with that.

I renewed my library card last week, because, well, apparently libraries still exist. So I checked out a book. I suppose in these days of Amazon Prime and bookstores every other block I could have purchased the book, but I’m also trying to de-clutter my life. Who needs more dust collectors lying around? Besides, if I really love the book, then maybe I’ll purchase it. Unless this is one of those instances of why buy the cow if I’m getting the milk for free…or is that just a sex and marriage idiom and not applicable to library checkouts?

With all the pop-culture and podcasts I’m invested in these days, Chuck Klosterman has come up the lucky winner. Shortly I will be embarking on Killing Yourself To Live. I would have preferred Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs from what I’ve gathered online, but the library only had it on Audio CD which would negate the whole me reading a book thing in this instance. Beggars, or stubborn people, can’t be choosers so Killing Yourself To Live it is. We’ll see how it goes.

It had to be 1997. I’d already seen the epic fail that was Titanic once; I can’t remember who with. If it was you, I apologize for forgetting. I honestly tried to wipe the entire experience from memory, so please don’t be too offended. I’d wasted three hours of my life watching it with you, and for that you should be commended or remembered at the very least, but then I’m quite certain it was your idea we see it, so I don’t feel so bad for erasing our movie moment from my mind.

Me

Which now brings me to the viewing encounter I unfortunately do recall. My cousin Jason had wanted to see Titanic. The movie had been out for a while and he hadn’t seen it yet. And before you mock him for being a dude that wanted to see Titanic (because that’s what I did), 1. His guy friends had already gone. Everyone saw it where I lived. 2. I remind you that we lived in Podunksville, USA. Population maybe 1200 with nothing to do as a teenager other than catch a flick at the theater a town or two over or tip cows after the football games on Friday nights. We saw a LOT of movies. Despite these two facts, because I hated the movie so much, I was inclined to decline but he convinced me. I probably owed him a favor of some sort. Or maybe I could suffer once more to see  Leo’s pretty face on that big silver screen. Regardless, before I fully comprehended this commitment, we were pulling into Linway Plaza.

It was winter (although in Northern Indiana that could still mean May) because Jason had on this ridiculously oversized down coat. It was practically the size of him. We’d gotten our tickets and I’d asked him if he wanted any concessions before we headed to get our seats. He said there was no need. Ok.

As we headed to our theater he stopped in the hallway just outside the door and grabbed the front of his  coat like he was about to pull a Paul Reubens or one of those dirty New York City street dudes from our favorite 1980’s films who’d open his coat sharing  totally illegal off-the-back-of-a-truck type watches and other wares for you to buy at deeply discounted prices. These were the thoughts flittering through my mind while watching wide-eyed as Jason opened the now shady looking coat that was about to swallow him whole.

I looked down at what he was trying to secretly show me and it was a super large bag of Twizzlers. Once my brain finally caught up, my heart skipped a beat. We were smuggling something into the movie theater.  Are you kidding me? We could get caught. We could go to jail. We would be hoodlums! Worst of all we could be banned from seeing movies in that theater FOREVER!!!

Me again.

The potential for permanent banishment from my one and only escape in the sticks had me practically hyperventilating.

Me in panic mode.

This could not be happening. My cousin and I were breaking the law. Now in hindsight, it was really more of a rule than a law, but when you’re 16, naïve and a rule follower, things like that seemed like the law and no matter which it really was, we could still get banned from my favorite establishment within a 40 mile radius. Oh, and my dad would be pissed. So there was that, too.

I slowly trailed Jason into the theater  to grab our seats, still in panic mode. I couldn’t believe he snuck Twizzlers into the theater. This was going to be our end. I could see it now, some snot-nosed teen actually choosing to do his job by catching us and reporting us which would inevitably lead to the Sheriff  coming to get us and hauling us to the Big House.  Why, God, why?!!! And all for TITANIC for crying out loud!!! Forget college and marriage and babies. We were going to have criminal records and never be allowed into the local cinema again. It may not have been my Twizzlers, but I was a co-conspirator at that point, reluctant co-conspirator perhaps, but co-conspirator nonetheless. I was anxiously racking my brain with how to get out of this one. Could I throw my cousin under the bus? Take a deal, rat him out and let him take the fall by his lonesome? I didn’t even like Twizzlers that much!   

I couldn’t sell him out. He was my friend and family above all else. We were in it together at that point. So I sat through another three hours of torturous music, pitiful plot points, and a depressing  but not so surprising ending,  all while swearing the fuzz was about to bust us at any minute. I think there were actual beads of sweat working their way down the back of my neck while Jason sat there thoroughly enjoying Jack’s antics and Celine’s sweet voice, sucking on his damn Twizzlers, without a care in the world.

Upon reflection, my reaction may have been more like a response one would have to seeing someone with a coat full of cocaine. It could have been a tad rash and a bit over the top given what he actually had hidden, but you can’t help how you feel or how your brain processes information, nor how you cope in crises, no matter what age you are. Especially your first time breaking the LAW (if it was a law).

It’s funny how we compartmentalize. I’d been trespassing on property and vandalizing houses with toilet paper  and other sundries since my tween years, which honest to God could have gotten me arrested and sent to jail,  yet I sat for 180 minutes in a theater wondering who my one phone call would be, certain that my life was completely over, all because of a bag of Twizzlers and Titanic. Leo’s pretty face was not enough.

Not. Enough. (okaay … maybe enough)

I will never forget the Bonnie and Clyde moment I shared with my cousin that day. It’s hilarious thinking about it now versus how I thought and felt about it then.  Growth, I guess? Or I’ve just done so many more idiotic things over the years that smuggling some Twizzlers into a movie theater isn’t even a blip on my most ridiculous moments radar. Not even close.

Look, mister, there’s… two kinds of dumb, uh… guy that gets naked and runs out in the snow and barks at the moon, and, uh,  guy who does the same thing in my living room. First one don’t matter, the second one you’re kinda forced to deal with. – George