Sunday, July 30, 2006

Gone to Excess

As I was disembarking from the train in Grand Central this evening, I witnessed, among the passengers looking to get onto the train, a very large, dare I say, morbidly obese woman making her way down to the platform. She wore a large, tent-like, floral dress and she looked nice and put together, but as she [hobbled isn't the right word, and tottered neither] along what I most noticed about her were her eyes. She looked scared. But not the scared that one finds when in a new situation, or when in a bad neighborhood, or even when confronted by sudden events. There was something about her eyes...she was looking for the next taunt, the next obstacle, the next disappointment. I walked past her and almost started to cry. Because she looked trapped.

Trapped in her own body. As some of you know, my mother is also extremely overweight. It horrifies me that there are so many people, many of our loved ones included, that, for whatever reason, have to live their lives through this sleeve - this other body, if you will - of fat. My mother said to me, the last time I was home, that many people call fat people lazy, but what they don't realize is that everything they do, they do for almost two people.

So many overweight people complain that no one sees "the real me." And it's true. It's the real them that is buried under the pounds and the dimples. Some fat women try to "embrace" their fatness - this is all me, etc. But I think most overweight people feel burdened by it. And misconceived by those around them. And overwhelmed. And inconsolable.

And I guess what I'd like to say is, "I see you."

But how do we address this? Fat people are ignored, dismissed, cast aside, as though it's a sign of slovenliness or disregard. Most truly fat people are that way because they're either addicted to food or there is something biologically wrong with them (and when I say truly fat, I mean obesity that causes other health problems like diabetes, congestive heart failure, etc. - not just chunky). I wish I could get my mother out of her sleeve. I wish I could wish it so. But the problem with obesity is that it makes you a huge risk for just about any change out there, be it diet, exercise, surgery, stomach staple, you name it. So there's this crazy impasse, that every obese person faces, about trying to actually lose the weight, shed the sheath. Especially those that are so overweight that it seems insurmountable.

I'm not so sure what I'm trying to get at any longer in this post, only that we need to help those fat people around us not feel so scared and judged. They are just like us.

Okay, I just typed that last paragraph and realized it reads like a self-indulgent high schooler (or young starlet) who thinks she's the most hip thing on the planet but is trying to do get into college (or the New York Times). Let me try again...

I would like to make it better, but I obviously don't have the power to. I have infinite sympathy for overweight people because of my mother's plight. What I want is for you (and yes, I mean you, not the world, because the world also includes those who prostitute themselves on Jerry Springer, and for them there is no hope) to change your attitudes about overweight people - not because it's okay, but because the first step in their being able to do something about it will come from true friendship, love, and most of all respect. See them for who they are. Not what.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

No One Here But Us Chickens

I've been doing some thinking lately, and in doing that thinking, I've realized this blog has taken on a theme, as it were, that I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with it having anymore. Too personal, too revealing and most of all, not the repository of wit and commentary that I had initially created it for. So I want to get back to the basics: seeing things in the world and in my life and commenting on their ridiculousness/irony/hilarity/lameness with perhaps some insight into why I find topics to be those things. Less information driven. Let's see how this plays out...

So, while I'm sure this has been covered in a multiple of venues, I have something to say about it:

Some commentary I have read has suggested the "move" was sexual harassment, others just plain camaraderie. I think neither. While not necessarily demeaning, the impromptu invasion of the Chancellor's personal space is at best belittling. It's a "there, there dear, don't worry your pretty little head over it," kind of interaction, that, while perhaps appropriate among friends, is never appropriate between freaking heads of state. I would still find it inappropriate if it were Bush & Blair instead of Bush and the Chancellor. Every interaction between heads of state is painstakingly mapped out by people whose jobs depend on getting it right, and it just goes to show the level of ineptitude our president wallows in that this event happened at all. And it's clearly not a situation of it "being caught on tape." The Chancellor's reaction shows that this kind of interaction is not par for the course in their relationship.

My recommendation: The president should sign up for some political savviness classes at his local community college. And perhaps a sensitivity course along the way. If he can pass the entrance exam.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done. I'm done. I'm done I'm done I'm done.

The mfing film is finally wrapped. All in all good, but tortuous work. And by tortuous I mean sweaty. And by sweaty I mean redonkulous.

More to come soon, but now I must sleep. Ah, precious sleep.

Friday, July 07, 2006


I will be done with my latest film soon. I promise. But in the meantime, I leave you with this question:

Who'll stop the rain?

Seriously, because I think this movie must be some sort of cursed. Literally anytime we wrap, go to lunch, load in, etc., it pours down rain from the heavens. And I don't mean sprinkles, I mean gnashing of teeth, cats and dogs living together kind of rain. But the cool thing is I get to do a turn-of-the-century period piece doc for two days after the movie wraps. And then I'm free.

Oh, and did I mention I'll make on the doc what I make in an entire week on the movie?

God damned indie films...