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blueshoefarm at gmail dot com.... and that would be how to reach me

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Movie ratings are screwed up in our country

There is something completely hooey in our rating system. Case in point : went to the Green Hornet two weeks ago. Rated PG-13. Went to the King's Speech tonight. Rated R.
Walked out of the Green Hornet thinking there was a WHOLE lotta violence in smooshed human carnage. No blood splatters, but you see people get smashed and killed. It is somewhat presented as a kids movie, and I saw it with our son and a friend of his. I actually covered their eyes at a part. (they were nonplussed about the whole thing, and humored me)
The King's Speech R rating? Well I imagine it was because he says the word fuck and shit when overcoming his speech impediment. That was it. No skin, no violence other than raised voices.
PG-13? Multiple deaths. Shooting. Sex (implied, not shown). Scantily clad babes moving to the beat and drinkin' alcohol. Drug selling. Hitting. Guns. A gang attacking a woman.
Here is where I get all crazy talkin'.
Why is it okay for our children to become immune or at least comfortable with watching violent acts -- something that they may not ever see or be a part of in their "real life" -- but sexual material and language are taboo? Sex which is vital for our species, and bad language which pretty much everyone will be exposed to in their lifetime...
WTF? Makes me really cranky. I read somewhere that our movies become more violent in times of war. To keep our adrenaline up? To keep us on the aggressive?
As an aside. I loved both movies. The GreenHornet was tapping into my old crazy love of cars. The car is genius. Had a bit of chitty chitty bang bang coupled with the batmobile.
Rose went with me to the Kings Speech. Boy, did she ever NOT want to go. But she was surprised, and loved it. Mr. Firth rocks.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Divorce Prep

I don't know how people do this. Besides a low level of anxiety I am having over everything under the sun... getting together the budgets, the savings, the house info, how to split things, who gets the tax write off on the kids, when the kids are at who's house when, and then formalizing it all with the State of Washington is daunting. Especially when I feel like it is all on my plate.
Since Dennis' family health insurance rocks bigtime, I have been doing all the things I procrastinated on before the separation. Some were unavoidable... such as the surgery I was supposed to be having for the last 5 years, or the glasses I can no longer put off getting (my great eyesight has turned into blurry distant mush.) It should be noted that at yesterdays general checkup, for the first time in the history of me getting my blood drawn, I have too much iron in my blood. This has never happened and let me tell ya, it is night and day difference for living.

Have went to a financial advisor to assist with cost of living issues (budget!), looking at schools for Wilder, getting Rose through driver's ed, dealing with her (and my) fluctuating mood rollercoasters, and standard stuff of getting them to dentist appts, playdates, piano class, all the while keeping those doors open for communication about all the crappy, mundane and joyful things they have to deal with at their age.
Michael and I both did budgets. In his, there is no cost associated with the kids. It is all his life costs only. He has no problem paying for all the things they participate in, or need for school, he just doesn't reflect that in what he considers his budget. When I was talking with our financial advisor and telling her about how we are going about the divorce process (amicably)... she asked ... "Why on earth are you getting a divorce??" It did not strike her that we battled enough for this. From the outside, most people think Michael and I get along too well for divorce. We don't throw things, we don't badmouth each other in front of the kids, he funds anything and everything that I want to do with and for the kids. They are also not realizing that at this point I am a "kept woman." Without Michael's income, I would not be living the life I am. Kept women generally have to be cordial. I worry when I get a divorce I will then turn nasty. How long can you keep anger going? I will let you know.

Monday, January 31, 2011

These posts

Every time I read one of these blogs after I have posted it I find all sorts of errors. (Case in point: it is not everytime I read one of these blogs, I am reading the posts on this blog.)
So the correct sentence : Every time I read one of these blog posts after I hit the "publish post" button, I find all sorts of errors. CRAP. How about : There are errors in every flippin' one of my blog posts that I only see after I have sent it out into the great wide world of webhood.
And if I read it on a different day of the week, I wonder what was in my breakfast cereal that morning.
Suffice it to say. This is a blog. Not a reporters notebook. It is a slice of life at a moment, but not the whole pie. I am by nature a storyteller. Sometimes they translate to text on here, but mostly my poor friends and family have to endure all the cagey little nuances of my speech patterns. And sometimes I try to translate them to text, and they don't read the way they came out of my brain and went through my fingers tapping on the keyboard.
Or my brain is very cryptic, has a hard time staying focused on one short story and grammatically inept. I like to think it is the 'short story' part of the venture that trips it up. If I could ramble on and on and on and on.... well then, I would have all the time I need to go down all the little side tangents involved in any one story. I won't do that to you, however.
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