nbt: Never Been Thawed

First scene is really ticking me off. What, is this for teen-age boys? Rooster radio KOCK? Yish, I don't think I'll even get through 30 minutes.

Production value blows. They didn't have a lot of money and it's obvious, now, it's probably intentional based on the whole 'mockumentary' thing, but it sucks.

This is a seriously low-rent attempt at a Christopher Guest type film about a quirky sub-culture. You know, he does it so well, why bother?

20 min. in, a modestly funny bit about a frozen food collector that works as a phone counselor at the William Jefferson Clinton Abstinence Center.

28 min. in, I am not amused.

31 min. in, the Vietcong style corporate team building prison camp is a great idea, but they talk about it, would be funnier if they showed it, would be funnier if that was the premise of the film.

Talking head documentaries are only really interesting if the subject is compelling. This idea is not and is throwing a bunch of garbage together to hide it.

Ugh, the "No Choice cafe" set-up next to a women's clinic. The have little fetus stirrers for the coffee.

OK, this is a conglomeration of skits barely tied together with the idea of the characters all collecting frozen food entrées.

I am done at 35 minutes. Not funny or interesting enough to hold my attention any longer.

Next.

Finally, a purpose for this blog

I've been hemming and hawing for months over what this blog should be about. I don't really want to be a cancer blogger, especially since that's over for the time being. I don't really want to share my inane daily thoughts, because they're, well, inane and why would anyone want to read that. Besides, I can tweet those out quick and be done. Most of them don't warrant the amount of time required for an actual blog.

Then...it came to me. I have over 382 films in my Netflix instant queue, and I should live-blog as I watch those films in the queue that I've never seen. That way, you all can see how a degree in screenwriting approaches a film, not to mention the bizarre insights that I can bring to the table. So that's it, I won't be blogging every day, but I will do at least one a week. And I won't include TV catchup episodes, unless someone out there thinks that's a great idea.

So, here it begins, hope you enjoy, feel free to comment but keep it civil. I don't mind if you disagree, but don't be a douche.

The Body Fantastic

You know, I remember having a body that would respond to my every silly impulse. One that was capable of rock-climbing and staying up all night and jogging 5 miles and cartwheels and eating mini donuts and soda for breakfast. Now I feel trapped in a defective, treasonous physical domain. My body betrayed me, it got cancer. I've been at war with this body ever since, chopping bits off, poisoning it, flooding it with radiation; all in an attempt to whip this damn thing back into submission.

Now the major battle over, cancer in remission, I have a scarred and worn battlefield left to inhabit. I somehow expected that once the battle was over the body would just be as it was, no signs of the long war. I guess that idea comes from being on the winning side of history so far. I am not a Southerner, I haven't grown up with the ravages of the American Civil war in my backyard. I'm not European or Japanese, I didn't grow up with the scars of WWII around every corner. In my history, you win the war and celebrate then get back to life in a landscape untouched by battle. As such, I've grown up with no first hand knowledge of the painful and long process of rebuilding after a war.

I imagine that those who have been through the rebuilding process are more likely to work for a peaceful resolution to a problem because they understand the true cost of battle, not just lost lives, but the damage to the psyche of the survivors, the time and money and pain of rebuilding a broken landscape. If I had to do it all over again, knowing the severe toll all the treatments would take on my body, would I make the same choices? Yes. My cancer was pretty damn aggressive, in just 3 months it had gone from undetectable to a 2.5 cm main tumor and visible tumors in two lymph nodes. Diet and exercise weren't going to stop this cancer and put it in check. Sometimes you can't negotiate with the bad guy and the best way to save lives is through war. I didn't have time to wait for a peaceful solution. However, I do urge anyone that's sick to review all of your options and think long and hard about your choices and the repercussions of each choice, because the impact on quality of life can be extreme.

I'm no longer sick, but I'm not yet well. I wish I could leave the battlefield behind, but it's my home and I'm kind of stuck with it, so rebuild I will. I want to make this home the best I can and am fortunate to live where I do because I have the resources and support necessary to rebuild this broken battlefield of a body from the ground up. I have the ability to fix this body and make peace with it so that I can proceed through life with body and mind once again unified in purpose. Even if that purpose is something as simple as the ability to do a cartwheel. I can't wait til I can do cartwheels again.

Mortality

Though we don't have a firm diagnosis yet, it appears that my breast cancer has gone metastatic. There's some hyper-metabolic spots on my ribs, very near the site of the first tumors and the affected lymph nodes. At least I no longer have to worry about whether or not it will reappear, it has. It's reappeared less than a year after I finished chemo, which means these are some crazy aggressive cancer cells, kind of the Taliban of the tumor world if you will.

This doesn't mean I'm going to die right away, or even soon. It does mean that a full on cure is no longer likely and that this is something that will have to be monitored and managed for the rest of my life, howsoever long that may be. It also means that I no longer have the luxury of assuming a long life at this point. I imagine that every day from here on out I won't be able to help but think about the fact that I'm going to die. Of course, we're all going to die, I'm just probably doing it faster than the rest of you.

That said, while reading "Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor" by Kris Carr I found this quote: "I think it's better to live every day like it's your first...and it's so good that you can't wait for another." That sounds a hell of a lot better than the fatalistic 'live every day like it's your last'. Today is not my last day, and I'm going to use it to prepare for an awesome tomorrow.