Check out who’s the leading actor to play the young Spock in the new Star Trek movie. That’s right, Sylar from Heroes. And Matt Damon as the young Kirk? I’ve heard that rumor before. That’s a great choice, but I don’t know if that will happen:

http://www.darkhorizons.com/news07/070722e.phpCheck out who’s the leading actor to play the young Spock in the new Star Trek movie. That’s right, Sylar from Heroes. And Matt Damon as the young Kirk? I’ve heard that rumor before. That’s a great choice, but I don’t know if that will happen:

http://www.darkhorizons.com/news07/070722e.php

At long last I saw Syriana, and while I liked it overall, I had a tough time following it. By the time the movie ends–a lot of corporate/political/oil intrigue–the bit pieces tie together. And it’s pretty intense. But in between there were so many little scenes with tons of characters and mumbled dialogue that Liz and I were shrugging our shoulders as to what was going on.

If you like political thrillers, Syriana is worth watching–I give it a thumbs up–but you’re going to have to work At long last I saw Syriana, and while I liked it overall, I had a tough time following it. By the time the movie ends–a lot of corporate/political/oil intrigue–the bit pieces tie together. And it’s pretty intense. But in between there were so many little scenes with tons of characters and mumbled dialogue that Liz and I were shrugging our shoulders as to what was going on.

If you like political thrillers, Syriana is worth watching–I give it a thumbs up–but you’re going to have to work at it.

When I first heard that they were making another Die Hard movie, I kinda rolled my eyes. And when I heard they were making it PG-13, I [i]really [/i]rolled my eyes.

And yet it works. It’s ridiculous for sure, but loads of fun. The action is tense, and the high tech vs. low tech angle pays off. Bruce Willis is still good in the role, although I would have liked to see him get a few more funnier lines. The tech geek as his partner was quite good, too, and was quality comic relief.

ThereWhen I first heard that they were making another Die Hard movie, I kinda rolled my eyes. And when I heard they were making it PG-13, I [i]really [/i]rolled my eyes.

And yet it works. It’s ridiculous for sure, but loads of fun. The action is tense, and the high tech vs. low tech angle pays off. Bruce Willis is still good in the role, although I would have liked to see him get a few more funnier lines. The tech geek as his partner was quite good, too, and was quality comic relief.

There was one action sequence in particular that was just a bit much to believe–even for this movie–but otherwise I was into it all the way.

Although with all the shooting, killing, blowing stuff up that went on, you would think they would drop a few f-bombs at least. But they didn’t. I’m not sure why they went PG-13. I’m not sure how much it hurt the movie, but it certainly didn’t help.

If you’re looking for popcorn fun, Live Free or Die Hard delivers.

I finally saw Transformers the other day, and I came away with mixed feelings about it. Of course, you just have to accept its goofy premise, which was fine. I bought into it. It’s a pretty long movie–almost 2 1/2 hours–and whether by intent or not, it kinda broke up into thirds.

The first 45 minutes was really good. And surprisingly fun. The lead was good, the girl was yowsa! hot, and the humor really worked. I was into it, and having a good time.

The second 45 minutes was the turI finally saw Transformers the other day, and I came away with mixed feelings about it. Of course, you just have to accept its goofy premise, which was fine. I bought into it. It’s a pretty long movie–almost 2 1/2 hours–and whether by intent or not, it kinda broke up into thirds.

The first 45 minutes was really good. And surprisingly fun. The lead was good, the girl was yowsa! hot, and the humor really worked. I was into it, and having a good time.

The second 45 minutes was the turning point for me. Once the cars start talking–and the lead car in a James Earl Jones type voice–it was kinda like, well … uh … maybe …? And unfortunately, the pace really started to slow down.

The last 45 minutes was pretty much pure action, but too much action. It was just a total assault on the senses. Just too much. And most of the elements I liked in the first third–the humor, the chemistry between the leads–wasn’t there. They were just running around amidst the action.

So overall I give it a marginal thumbs up. First third worked really well, and then less so after that. If you want tons of bang, smash, you might dig this movie. But if you’re looking for slightly better pacing, then Transformers might not do it for you. It’s a close call.

For about the last two months, Alex (my cat), hadn’t seemed like his usual self. He wasn’t running around, he wasn’t demanding attention, and he was eating less and less. I was a little concerned at first, because you just notice these things, but I chalked it up to the sudden blast of summer heat, and that we had to adjust the dose of his medication again. Early last year he was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid–common in older cats; Alex is 16–but it’s taken us a while to get the dosageFor about the last two months, Alex (my cat), hadn’t seemed like his usual self. He wasn’t running around, he wasn’t demanding attention, and he was eating less and less. I was a little concerned at first, because you just notice these things, but I chalked it up to the sudden blast of summer heat, and that we had to adjust the dose of his medication again. Early last year he was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid–common in older cats; Alex is 16–but it’s taken us a while to get the dosage nailed down. It was the Goldilocks Effect. First it was too much, then not enough, and now, it seems, just right.

But that wasn’t it.

I know Alex well enough to know when he isn’t right. But his being a cat kinda makes it tough sometimes to figure out just what’s wrong. He tells me in his own way, but since I don’t speak fluent cat, the translation doesn’t always come through.

The pinnacle came last week when I took him to vet for a checkup, and he freaked out. Freaked. Out. He’s never normally like that. Which isn’t to say he likes going to the vet, but he usually adjusts just fine. But not this time. He was anxious and hissing. And when the technicians had to take some blood, which he usually handles okay, he lost it. And when they clipped his front claws … eesh. It was brutal. He was growling like a mad cougar. I’ve never seen this from him.

A few days later his blood work came back and he checked out a-okay. And yet he still wasn’t right.

Until I saw it.

I came home a few days ago, and in the hallway, was a little puddle of spittle, so I figured he must have thrown up a little. Not uncommon for cats. But then, in the next room, was the culprit. On his little carpet by his scratching post was a hairball–no, it was shaped like a hair turd (sorry for the visual), that was one of the biggest I’ve ever seen him cough up.

No wonder he wasn’t eating or running around. I’m guessing that he had been immensely nauseas. But now that he coughed it up, he seems right back to his old self. Running around like a maniac, demanding attention. Eating back to normal. Purring up a storm.

He really had me worried there for a while, but no more. Who knew that a hair turd could cause so much trouble.

Go figure.

The other day I was talking to someone about my recent–and scary–misadventures in the ocean, which led him to tell me about a time he did night jumping, which is when you skydive into in the ocean at night. He?d been skydiving before, and is a good swimmer, and figured, how hard could this be? Well, after jumping from the plan he misjudged the distance to the water, and opened his shoot too late. As a result, when he hit the water, the shoot fell right on top of him?he got all tangled up in thThe other day I was talking to someone about my recent–and scary–misadventures in the ocean, which led him to tell me about a time he did night jumping, which is when you skydive into in the ocean at night. He?d been skydiving before, and is a good swimmer, and figured, how hard could this be? Well, after jumping from the plan he misjudged the distance to the water, and opened his shoot too late. As a result, when he hit the water, the shoot fell right on top of him?he got all tangled up in the shoot while in the ocean–and for a minute or two, he felt like he was in big trouble.

Big. Trouble.

He wound up making it okay, but still …

Have you ever gone skydiving? Bungee jumping? Hang gliding?

Not me. I really, really want to?it seems to cool?but I?m so totally scared s—less about it. I?ll just never do it.

You could sell me on the idea of skydiving. You could probably get me up in the plane. You could even get me to wear the gear, strap a parachute on my back, and even stand just a few feet from the open plane door as it soars across the sky at 10,000 feet.

But get me a few inches closer and I?ll be like one of those cats in the cartoon, with arms stretched out, digging my fingers through the steel. You would literally have to rip my arms off and shove me out of the plane, and it would probably take three or four of you to do it.

It?s just this crazy thing I have about heights. Now, I?m not sure if I have vertigo, per se, but [i]man[/i] they freak me out. I refuse to stand up against a window in a tall building, and good luck getting me in one of those big drop roller coasters.

My wife? She loves that stuff. But me? Uh … no.

A few years ago I was with a friend who was visiting from the UK, and he wanted do the tourist thing, so after dinner we went up to the observation deck of the Empire State Building. It was night, and a little windy, but as long as I had my back flat up against the wall, I was sort of okay. But then my buddy starts talking about this sci-fi book he read once where there are mile-high buildings, and wouldn?t it be crazy if one toppled over?

That was so totally not the thing I needed hear just then, because I started to black out, feeling like I was physically plummeting off the building to my death. That?s how bad it gets for me. I really just start to lose it. And I don?t know why. I?ve always been that way. Maybe it?s just one of those things, maybe some crazy hypno-therapy would cure me. I don?t know.

I really wish that I was a skydiving, bungee-jumping, roller coaster kind of guy. But I?m just not.

Maybe that’s why I write. To work out all the goofy stuff that keeps me from experiencing all there is. Guess I better get to it …

As with any type of creative field in which you have to rely on others to accept your work or not, rejection is a very real?but really sucky?part of writing. Or, more to the point, of getting published.

I?ve come to expect it?hey, it?s unavoidable?and I try not to put too much stock into it when I get rejection letters. It?s just the opinion of one person about a tiny sample of what I?ve done. In fact, most of the rejections come just from the pitch, so most of these agents who say no HAVENAs with any type of creative field in which you have to rely on others to accept your work or not, rejection is a very real?but really sucky?part of writing. Or, more to the point, of getting published.

I?ve come to expect it?hey, it?s unavoidable?and I try not to put too much stock into it when I get rejection letters. It?s just the opinion of one person about a tiny sample of what I?ve done. In fact, most of the rejections come just from the pitch, so most of these agents who say no HAVEN?T EVEN READ MY BOOK!

Welcome to getting published.

But given the volume of letters I?ve sent out?and gotten back?I?ve learned to pick up on some of the signs right away. I don?t even need to read an entire letter to find out if the agent is interested or not. I?ll explain.

If the letter comes, either through snail mail or email, and it starts with:

[i]Dear Author[/i]

That translates to: Sorry, dude. No go.

I usually read the rest of the letter?actually, I?ll skim it?but I don?t really need to. If I get a [i]Dear Author[/i] letter, it?s not the letter I was hoping for. It?s impersonal. Generic. It means: thanks, but no thanks. (It could also mean: you suck, do the world a favor and stop writing; but they?re agents, and what the heck do they know! But as for the good agents out there who like my work, then you know a LOT!).

Now, if I get a letter that starts with [i]Dear Mr. Colchamiro[/i], I think … hmm, this could go either way. But at least it?s something. It?s higher up on the food chain of letters, even if it?s a rejection.

And then there?s the letters that start with [i]Dear Russ[/i]. Now those are almost always good. Not always?occasionally I get duped?but more often than not those mean that the agent wants me to send in some pages, and if it is a rejection, it?s usually one that?s something like: you know, Russ, I was on the fence, it was a really tough call, but it?s just not quite right for me.

I actually got one of those last week. Talk about torture! Who wants to be so close? And then I got another one like that yesterday! Arrgh!

That?s like a girl you?ve been chasing for months saying, hey Russ, you know, you?re a great guy, you?re cute and I could see myself totally digging you. But … you just don?t quite do it for me that way.

#$%! DON?T TEASE ME!

Actually, those rejection letters are pats on the back, as those thoughtful, personalized details don?t come along that often, but [i]man[/i] do they sting! It?s harsh feeling like I was [i]almost[/i] there. [i]Almost [/i]isn?t [i]yes.[/i] It?s a very nice way to be told no. But in all fairness, there are worse things.

So now I wait to hear back on the rest of those 40 new queries I sent out over the last week, and with any good fortune, I?ll get a few that start: [i]Dear Russ,[/i] and not as many that start: [i]Dear Author[/i].

Post edited by: rcolchamiro, at: 2007/07/20 10:27

Yesterday was just one of those days.

When I woke up, it was raining pretty hard, but then it was pouring. Just pouring. So already there were obstacles to just getting through the day. Liz and I waited out the initial downpour, and after 15 minutes, made a break for it. The rain wasn’t too bad on the way to the subway, but because of flooding on the tracks, we wound up sitting in subway traffic for almost an hour and a half. Not fun.

Then, at about 11:10, I get a call on my cell pYesterday was just one of those days.

When I woke up, it was raining pretty hard, but then it was pouring. Just pouring. So already there were obstacles to just getting through the day. Liz and I waited out the initial downpour, and after 15 minutes, made a break for it. The rain wasn’t too bad on the way to the subway, but because of flooding on the tracks, we wound up sitting in subway traffic for almost an hour and a half. Not fun.

Then, at about 11:10, I get a call on my cell phone from a number I don’t recognize. Turns out it was from someone I had an important meeting with–at 11 a.m.–but simply forgot. We had arranged to have a business meeting at 11 am–on Wednesday–but I wrote it down as Thursday. Nice. We rescheduled, but you hate to have someone put time aside, and then blow the meeting.

Later that afternoon, I went to the chiropractor for a much-needed adjustment. And it hurt. A lot. It really beat me up. I’m much better now–it was long overdue–but still, it wasn’t much fun. I then stopped into a nearby diner for a quick dinner, which wound up making me moderately ill.

Liz and I had a 7 pm meeting with a financial advisor in midtown, so I took the uptown F train from the West 4th Street stop, where I was. When I walked out onto the street at Bryant Park, the streets were packed. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then I noticed that all the sidewalks for as far as I could see were filled. The cops were directing traffic. Almost everyone was on their cell phones.

And then I looked up.

There was a massive–I mean massive–cloud of smoke funneling out of the top of a building across from Grand Central Station. The police announced the Grand Central was now closed.

So naturally, we’re all afraid that we’ve been attacked again, and are bracing ourselves for the worst. My cell phone is struggling to connect because everybody is making calls. I finally connect with Liz, who meets me just north of the Met Life Building, on Park Ave., where we’re supposed to meet our advisor. Only he wasn’t there. I figured he bailed because of the madness (turns out he was outside the city and couldn’t get back in).

Police sirens were whirring. Ambulances were right behind.

Liz and I made our way up to 53rd Street, and luckily were able to get a working–and air conditioned–subway home.

Turns out the blast was from a steam pipe on 41st Street, but those first few minutes were insane. The smoke. The police.

It’s always been said that New York’s a tough town. No joke.

I had myself a bit of a query bonanza over the last week. My goal was to send out another 25 query letters to agents by the end of the month. Well … over the last week alone, I sent out 38.

Most weeks don’t go this way, but I got myself on some kind of a roll and just went with it. I’ve still got a fairly long list of agents to contact, but it’s always encouraging when I have a little blast like that. I’ve got a bunch of lists, and updated lists, and updated updated lists, and I’m tryingI had myself a bit of a query bonanza over the last week. My goal was to send out another 25 query letters to agents by the end of the month. Well … over the last week alone, I sent out 38.

Most weeks don’t go this way, but I got myself on some kind of a roll and just went with it. I’ve still got a fairly long list of agents to contact, but it’s always encouraging when I have a little blast like that. I’ve got a bunch of lists, and updated lists, and updated updated lists, and I’m trying to hit them all with my revised query.

As part of this revised query blitz I’m even contacting some agents who said no to my earlier letter, hoping that they’ll be drawn to my new one. And it’s pretty unlikely that they’ll even remember my first letter, given that those batches went out months ago and they’ve probably seen hundreds, if not thousands, of letters since then.

So it’s once more into the breach my friends …

Queries away!

Psychologists, philosophers and positive thinkers alike pretty much agree that the most important conversations you can have are those with one person in particular: yourself. Self-talk.

The reason is that our attitudes are influenced most by the voices?and the messages?we are exposed to most often. And since everywhere we go, there we are, since no one person is around us as much as we are with ourselves, what we tell ourselves is more important than what anyone else might tell us.

I Psychologists, philosophers and positive thinkers alike pretty much agree that the most important conversations you can have are those with one person in particular: yourself. Self-talk.

The reason is that our attitudes are influenced most by the voices?and the messages?we are exposed to most often. And since everywhere we go, there we are, since no one person is around us as much as we are with ourselves, what we tell ourselves is more important than what anyone else might tell us.

I just happen to take this conversational approach a bit more literal than most. Meaning, I talk to myself.

A lot.

Out loud.

In public.

It?s not that I set out to do this, I just can?t seem to help myself. I get lost in my own thoughts quite easily?and often?and without even realizing it, I?m mumbling away, as if there were two people there. Russ1 and Russ2.

To clarify, I don?t hear voices that aren?t really there (hey, they tell me they?re real, so I believe ?em!), and I don?t believe there?s some person with me who?s as real as you and I but is only visible to me. (I swear. Really.). I just get a little carried away.

Liz constantly busts me when I’m doing it, and sometimes she gets more than a little aggravated, because while we?re walking down the street or even just sitting on the couch watching TV, I?m next to her physically, but mentally I?m off in cuckoo land, participating in both sides of a conversation I?m not even aware that I?m having.

It?s like those times when you?re driving and you suddenly realize you?ve gone 10 exits you can?t remember, like daze-driving. Only this is daze talking. And sometimes Liz just assumes that I?m talking about her (usually I?m not).

Well … it?s just a beautiful day today here in New York City, so I made the most of it by going to Washington Square Park to eat my lunch. It was about 82 degrees, nice breeze, no humidity. Not a cloud in the sky. The perfect setting to sit back and just let your mind wander. Which, for me, as you might be starting to gather, isn?t always such a great idea.

So as I was leaving the park, a woman?s voice came from behind me. What it said was: ?Are you talkin? to yourself? Mm. Lord have mercy.?

I kinda shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish. But when l turned around, I saw this woman with a young kid to her side, and another in a stroller she was pushing. Now … I really, really, really want to believe that she was talking to either or both of the kids,, and not me?but I [i]was[/i] talking to myself.

I got busted. Again.

And that?s just how I roll. So, yeah … I?m a believer that the conversations we have with ourselves are the most important we can have. I just have to work on how I participate in these conversations?and where they happen. Maybe a little less self-talky talk in public would help me out.

Lord have mercy. Indeed.

Post edited by: rcolchamiro, at: 2007/07/15 06:57