But here’s the rub: writers need things to write about. In other words, writers need lives.

So please excuse my meager postings this summer (and meager word counts on works in progress). I’m keeping with the line that it’s all fuel for the writer’s fire. Fires are best saved for the cold months, aren’t they?

Happy Summer!

Now go out and play… do whatever you love in the Summertime. Absolutely no guilt allowed.

Unless you’re really doing something naughty.

Marley & Me

That’s what I’ve determined after seeing it for the second time last night. My daughter wanted to rent it because she thinks it is one. But I wanted to rent it because I knew better.

Because it is better than a boring old dog movie.

I won’t say I cried (on second viewing, no less) because I don’t cry at movies. But there may have been a little hard blinking.

See, Marley & Me uses a dog to take us through the seasons of life — specifically the seasons as they change from spring to summer. As a man and woman’s lives change from being about themselves to being about their family. It just happens to be told within the framework of a puppy growing into an old man-dog.

Marley provides a fair amount of the funny of this movie, but he also helps us get a window into the hearts of the main characters, Jenny (played by Jennifer Aniston) and John Grogan (Owen Wilson). Nothing really horrible happens. There’s a mild couple’s quarrel here and there, just the friction that comes from rubbing up so closely against another person’s life. That friction which rubs off the rough corners of our selves.

In a way, I  identify with this movie because it has a wonderfully talented (and beautiful, of course) woman choosing marriage and family over career, and depicts the normal ups and downs to a tee. It also shows a guy making career choices that are not only in line with his personal ambitions, but that suit the needs of his family. He’s striving for balance, and you admire him for it. I like seeing people sacrifice their own desires for a greater good. What greater good is there, really, then a happy family?

I haven’t read the memoir (of the same name) that the movie is based on, but I like the idea that a memoir can make a good story… even if it is just about people like you and me. What we do every day — choosing dependability, choosing responsibility, choosing to love others more than you love yourself — does make the world turn. We are the builders of humanity. For real, dude.

Too heavy? Well, if all you want is to commiserate about your aging dog, the movie provides ample grounds for that emotion, too. See the picture there? This is my old girl, Pesto. No, not the sauce. Though she is saucy, yeah. My husband and I, when we first got the runty little pointer mix from doggy jail, named her after the secretary character from the TV show Moonlighting. I know. We thought it was funny: Ms. Agnes dePesto.

Pesto.

She’s now fourteen years old, and I could write a book about the crazy little stories of her life, too. When she gorged herself on dog food and could hardly walk, when she jumped off the boat trying to reach the dogfish we’d snagged (we had to snag her, then), when she met each of our children and wholeheartedly opened her heart (and tongue) to them. But her last chapter is coming to a close now. Her time is near. She’s had a good run. Been a great dog. None better, I think. You forgive me the hard blinking, right?

Did you avoid seeing Marley & Me because it looked like another Benji or Beethoven? Well, go rent it. Though, perhaps it is. I didn’t see Benji or Beethoven. Maybe boring old dog movies aren’t bad at all!

I’m not going to rate this one — you may not like it at all. It’s a personal story, you’ll have to see how it hits you, eh?

At the center of a busy life >>

And I used to be so good at enjoying the moments…

The kids and I drove for an hour to see the new Miyazaki film, Ponyo. (It didn’t come to my local theater in backwoods, usa.) We are huge fans of Miyazaki films, each with our own fav:

4yo loves Totoro for its lovable furry title characters, the soot spirits and the Nekobasu (the cat-bus.)

7yo loves Princess Mononoke, arguably the most gruesome of Miyazaki’s films, but perhaps the most realistic.

9yo loves Spirited Away, loves No Face and even Yubaba, but especially spider-legged Kumaji and her other allies.

My husband likes Nausicaa best. Not sure why — the insect thing?

And, of course, I love Howl’s Moving Castle. I love Diana Wynne Jones’ book (and its sequels) so that’s part of it, but Miyazaki put his own stamp on an already lovely story. It’s a love story with spark (did they use that as the tag line? They should have!!). Oh, don’t you love Calcifer? In fact, I would say the Door-Mat in MindsBase was somewhat inspired by Calcifer.

Now, I feel rather amiss not even mentioning Castle in the Sky, or even The Cat Returns or Kiki’s Delivery Service, all of which we also own and love.

So, back to Ponyo. I knew, going in, that this would be a younger story, more on the order of Totoro than Mononoke. But I really got my hopes up when the hip 20-something boy at the ticket counter offered “It’s really great!” when I bought the tix.

Here’s what was great about it:

• Watercolor artistry, oy yes.
• Spectacular visuals, especially the oceanic events. Depicting the waves as giant fish — brilliant!
• The magically-enlarged toy boat powered by a candle-fired boiler. My kids want to try to build one of those now.
• The old ladies. One thing I love about Miyazaki films (and Japanese culture in general) is the integration of older people as valued members of society.
• The smaller story of Ponyo and Sosuke is backdropped by the larger world of the mother, the father and the town dealing with the storms — LOVE IT!
• The wonderful details such as the ham radio, the generator and the Morse Code spotlight. My kids eat up this kind of stuff.
• The Sea King Fujimoto. Does he remind you a little of Howl? Great voice choice in Liam Neeson.

Here’s where it fell down for me. I never felt enough attachment to Ponyo or Sosuke. I never felt that Sosuke loved Ponyo the way a boy eventually needs to love a girl. He seemed to love her as a pet, but she didn’t end up as a pet, she ended up as a human girl. I needed to see them have some version of love as boy and girl — a girl who acted a little more like a girl than an alien experiencing the earth for the first time.

I felt like that was the promise, and not just because it’s the route Disney took on the Hans Christian Anderson classic. The opening scenes with Sosuke (at least the English version) spoke much of love — the love Sosuke immediately had for Ponyo and the love (shown by hurt when he didn’t return) Sosuke’s mother had for his father (and vice versa).

As the movie progressed and became more about Ponyo’s transformation (literally and emotionally) what I saw was Ponyo experiencing LIFE. I didn’t see her experiencing LOVE. So, in the end, I was left a little empty with where Ponyo’s story would go from there. Would Sosuke grow tired of Ponyo over the years, or see her as a sister (since all signs pointed to her being raised in his household). Would Ponyo really like being a human better if she wasn’t loved by Sosuke? Would she miss her many sisters and long to return to the sea?

Fortunately, my kids weren’t troubled by these same lingering questions. But they also haven’t begged for us to buy it when it comes out on DVD, which is often the first question after a great in-theater experience.

SO… compared to other Miyazaki films, it was okay. Compared to films like Open Season, it was “really great” — just as the ticket-boy promised.

= 3 nods

Now, go put all the Miyazaki films in your netflix queue!! Most are FIVE NODS!

(P.S. Is queue not the weirdest-spelled word?)

In the dream, I sunk to my knees and began to sob. Then I shook myself awake, out of the dream, but I still felt racked with emotion and guilt for inviting her to visit me on my island.

Couldn’t shake the feeling all morning. Don’t you hate that?

But its interesting, isn’t it, what things come out of our subconscious minds and how they affect our lives. I wonder what worries, or expectations, or preconditions we carry around with us that impair our ability to be happy and successful? If my worries are leaking into a dream, they must be somewhere buried inside me. And they probably have nothing to do with worries about plane crashes or this particular friend. Dreams — mine, at least — are abstract at least, and metaphorical at most…

Or maybe I’m just playing out story ideas while off-the-clock.

Here’s an LA Times post about the significance of dreams >>

Swap out the words “post office” and “letters” with “net” and “status updates” and there you go:

Just so hollow and ineffectual, for the most part, is our ordinary conversation. Surface meets surface. When our life ceases to be inward and private, conversation degenerates into mere gossip. We rarely meet a man who can tell us any news which he has not read in a newspaper, or been told by his neighbor; and, for the most part, the only difference between us and our fellow is that he has seen the newspaper, or been out to tea, and we have not.

In proportion as our inward life fails, we go more constantly and desperately to the post office. You may depend on it, that the poor fellow who walks away with the greatest number of letters, proud of his extensive correstpondence, has not heard from himself this long while.

(paragraphs and emphasis added.)

Can it be that we haven’t come anywhere, socially speaking, since 1854? Hmm.

(Yes, I note the irony that I’m posting this as a blog post on the net.)