Hollywood, Get a Library Card

What Happened to Good Movies?

Maybe I got spoiled. Maybe I’m too picky. Or maybe movies just aren’t that good anymore.

Seriously, what happened?

Back in the 80s, 90s, and even the early 2000s, it felt like every weekend there was a movie you couldn’t wait to see. Comedies were funny. Action movies were exciting. Romantic comedies actually had romance and comedy. Even the dumb movies were somehow entertaining.

Now I spend more time scrolling than I do watching. Everything is a remake, reboot, sequel, prequel, spin-off, or based on a comic book character I’ve never heard of.

And here’s what confuses me. The actors didn’t all quit. The directors are still directing. So what happened?

The only conclusion I can come to is that the writers got tired. Did they run out of ideas? Did somebody lose the giant book of good movie plots? Did Hollywood just decide originality was too much work?

I can remember when a Friday night was an event. We’d grab Chinese food and then head to Family Video. The boys would disappear into the game section while the rest of us wandered the movie aisles. The hardest part wasn’t finding something to watch. It was deciding which movies to leave behind because there were too many good choices. You could spend an hour reading the backs of boxes and still not see everything.

Now I have access to thousands of movies without leaving my couch and somehow can’t find one worth watching. Technology advanced. TVs got bigger. Streaming got faster. Movies got worse. That seems backwards.

And here’s the thing I really don’t understand. There are thousands of amazing books sitting on library shelves that have never been made into movies. Go to the damn library. Walk through the fiction section. Pick a shelf. There are enough stories in there to keep Hollywood busy for the next hundred years.

It’s not like it can’t work. Look at Julia Quinn and the Bridgerton series. Somebody picked up those books and turned them into one of the biggest hits on television. The proof is right there.

I miss the days when a trip to Family Video felt like an adventure and movie night didn’t require forty-five minutes of scrolling followed by disappointment.

So if any movie writers are reading this, please stop remaking movies that were already good. Write something new. Or at least get a library card.

Because if I have to sit through one more reboot of a reboot based on a sequel nobody asked for, I’m going to start believing the most original thing Hollywood has produced lately is the loading screen.

Where Words Go To Die

The other day I realized there are words and phrases I haven’t heard in years. I have become convinced there is a place where words go when nobody uses them anymore. Not a dictionary. No, no… that’s too tidy. I think they go to a retirement community. A quiet little place where all the words that were once popular sit around wondering what happened.

When was the last time somebody told you to skedaddle? Or said something was far out? What happened to groovy? That was a perfectly good word. It had a job. It served a purpose. And let’s not forget radical. For a while, that word was carrying an entire generation on its back.

Then the 90s showed up with da bomb, talk to the hand, all that and a bag of chips, whatever, and as if. Somehow we all survived that phase and thought it sounded completely normal.

At what point did gee whiz, gadzooks, balderdash, kerfuffle, and cattywampus quietly pack their bags and leave? Those weren’t just words. They had personality. They made some one that said it seem cool… I think.

Nobody announces when they’re over. One day everybody is saying something and then, without warning, they stop. .

That’s neat.

That’s swell.

Far out.

Radical.

Da bomb.

Narly.

Epic.

Fire.

No cap.

Rizz.

Each generation gets its turn, and the older words simply fade into the background. I suppose that’s how language works, but I kind of miss the old ones. You could tell what decade someone grew up in just by listening to them talk.

Nowadays half the slang sounds like somebody spilled Scrabble tiles on the floor where the letters spell out “Skibidi” and said, ‘Yep, that’s a word now!
Maybe that’s why I like old sayings. They’re little time capsules. Tiny reminders of another era, and while I understand that language changes, I still think we should bring a few of these words back. The world could use a little more skedaddle, a little more balderdash, and maybe even the occasional gee whiz. And what’s this 6-7 bullshit?

So... now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go yell horsefeathers at something and try to bring it back.

One of These Things Is Not Like the Others

The other day I wrote a blog about how my writing hut has basically turned into a craft closet. Well, today I noticed something else. My library has musical instruments in it.

Now, in my former early learning director brain, this is all wrong. Libraries are for books. Musical instruments belong in a music room. You don’t put a loud center next to a quiet center! Somewhere, my old classroom setup skills are having an anxiety attack.

Then my ADHD brain immediately started singing the old Sesame Street song: “One of these things is not like the others…”

Sitting in my library are my cello and my violin. Up until a few weeks ago, my stereo turntable was in there too. I moved the turntable, but all the albums are still sitting on the bottom shelf.

Then I got to thinking… what difference does it make? It’s just me and Dennis living here. If I decide to play the violin in the library, who exactly am I going to interrupt? No one else is in there reading anyway. And honestly, I mainly keep the cello propped up because it looks pretty in the room. Can you say "Eccentric"?  Can I spell Eccentric?

Apparently, I’ve reached the age where I decorate with musical instruments. And why not? A library should be a place that makes you happy. If books, albums, a cello, and a violin all make me smile, then they belong together. Even my grandkids arts supplies are in a box in there!

Maybe my house doesn’t make sense by traditional standards. Maybe my writing hut is a craft closet and my library is part reading room, part music room, and part decorating experiment. But that’s okay.

Because at this point in my life, it’s all about atmosphere and little pleasures. If I want a cello in my library because it looks cozy and makes me happy, then the cello stays.

Besides, I kind of like living in a house where one of these things is not like the others.

No RSVP to the Pity Party

I’ve noticed something about pity parties. They never seem to accomplish anything. Nobody wakes up one morning and says, “You know what changed my life? Feeling sorry for myself for three straight days.”

Life isn’t fair. Sometimes it kicks you in the teeth, steals your lunch money, and then sends you the bill. But sitting in the corner throwing yourself a pity party doesn’t make life apologize. It just wastes time you could’ve spent figuring out your next move.

Feel your feelings. Throw yourself a five-minute pity party if you need to. Eat the cookie. Cry in the shower. Yell at the steering wheel. Then clean yourself up, put your grown-up pants back on, and get moving. Problems don’t care how sad you are. They only respond to action.

And here’s the thing… nobody enjoys attending someone else’s pity party either. If all you ever serve is complaints, eventually people quit accepting the invitation.

Life rewards resilience, not RSVP cards to the Pity Party. Besides… if you’re going to host a party, at least have chips and queso.