I've moved!

You can find my new blog here: 

laura-henriksen.squarespace.com

My old posts are there, as well as several new entries (mostly about Star Wars.)

Stages of Phone Grief

My phone broke down to the point where the repairman worked in it for free because it was “an interesting challenge.” If my phone were a patient in the ER then this would’ve been one of those “would you mind if we bring in some interns to watch?” situations.

So, I went through the stages of phone grief, but I did it in the wrong order. First came denial, So what if it randomly shuts down and won’t turn back on? Next came depression, I guess I’ll just have to live with a broken phone forever. Then bargaining, Maybe the repair guys can fix it.

(P.S. If you google “stages of g—.” Then Google will helpfully supply you with the stages of genital herpes. That’s what I get for being too lazy to spell out ‘grief.’)

You’ll notice that I skipped a step: Anger.

The new phone arrived all shiny and new. My husband knows that changes in my routine turn me into a fussy old lady who viciously attacks the landlord for telling her that she can only have eight cats in her apartment. No way am I getting rid of Mr. Snuffles.

So my husband kindly activated my phone for me and downloaded a few apps. He offered it to me like a priest throwing a sheep into an active volcano, hoping desperately that the sacrifice will placate the roiling lava monster.

No amount of sheep will fix this.

The SD card didn’t have enough room for all of my apps. The phone only does about 60% of the things I need it to do. The calendar widget isn’t showing up. My voicemail perpetually reminds me that I have messages even though the mailbox is empty. The keyboard doesn’t even let me swipe yet so I have to pound. each. individual. letter. one. by. one.

The Devil

It’s as if someone tore out all the pages to my planner, hid the books in my library, stole the pictures of my baby, and then demanded another forty bucks before they’d let me clean up the mess.

My rage is entirely disproportionate to the size of the problem. A bigger SD card will fix the problem. In a month I’ll finally finish entering my passwords into each app and confirming each account. They’ll all be neatly organized just as they once were. At that point I wouldn't want a new phone; in fact I'd probably fight you if you tried to replace it with a better one.

I’ll experience the final stage of phone grief: Acceptance.

Gods and Magic: Fast and Furious Seven

For what it was, it was perfection. Let’s overlook the lack of a sensible plot, the use of bikini-clad women as window dressing, and the fact that near the end the writers were just crossing their fingers and praying that no one would call them out for their ludicrous imaginings of a computer virus. Let’s not view this as a modern movie with the coherent restrictions that apply. View this instead as an epic in the ancient Greek style.

Unlike the earliest Fast and Furious movies, this one took the pretense of realism and jettisoned it out the cargo bay. It was absurd to the point of parodying itself. I didn’t know this going in, I asked my husband annoying questions like, “If the bad guy wants those nurses to take good care of his brother, then why did he kill everyone else in the hospital?” I finally understood the treat I was in for when The Rock grabbed the tiny blonde and shielded her with his body as the exploding building blasted them out the window where they landed safely on the hood of a car. I laughed with joy. This was not a movie about mortals and cars. This was a tale of gods and magic.

Like the ancient myths, the good guys are all handsome, powerful, and the best in the world at whatever they do. They’re larger than life characters with no limitations. Police cars and stop lights may have the power to thwart you and I, but Dom and his crew barely acknowledge them. They can solve any problem. Being chased by an evil military drone? Drive an ambulance into it. Need to escape a penthouse? Steal a car and drive it out the window of one skyscraper and into two subsequent skyscrapers.

Another major similarity to the ancient epics is the bizarre honor system. If you and I stole a car it would be a bad thing. When they did it, it was the only thing to do.

[Dom and Brian enter the Jordanian Prince's private vault and see the W Motors Lykan HyperSport]

Brian O'Conner: Do you realize what this is? Lykan HyperSport. $3.4 million, 0-60 in less than 3 seconds. There's seven of these in the world and this guy keeps it locked up in a vault.

Dominic Toretto: Nothing's sadder than locking a beast in a cage.

Brian O'Conner: I wanna punch him in the face.

So stealing the car is the just and honorable thing, everyone cheered when they took it.

Then there are the confrontations between our main hero (Dom) and the bad guy (Deckard.) Over and over they have these pointless power struggles for dominance where they play chicken in a parking garage, or Dom leaves his friends to pursue Deckard down a mountain. The most laughable of all is when Dom has a sawed off shotgun aimed at Deckard but instead of just shooting him he puts the gun down and pulls out a pair of oversized wrenches because that’s how you do it on the street. You and I probably would’ve just shot the guy. But that’s not the point. It was never about killing Deckard, it was always about showing off Dom’s prowess in battle. That’s why these movies have no real story, the fight is the story.

I wouldn’t want all of my films to be this over-the-top display of poor judgment and awesome explosions. It’s boring if the good guys are always gods. But the simplicity of it speaks to me. Every now and then I want the absurdly wonderful, men and women with limitless ability, and the belief that anything is possible if you have your crew.

Gratuitous Baby Pictures or What I Did on my Blogging Vacation

And we’re back! The blog went dark for a few months but I have a great deal to show for myself. I was busy turning this…

Into this.

Which became this.

Which grew into that.

And kept growing.

And growing.

Until I realized that I don’t have just a little lump of proto-human material. I have a tiny person with his own opinions and personality. For the purposes of this blog he is called Sweet Pea.

So I’m back to blogging but without the weekly regularity. Most of my time is currently consumed by this little guy and job hunting. Until next time!