This one goes into the “seriously?” pile. One of my coworkers likes promoting, making flyers, passing out useless trinkets with our station or company name on them. That’s pretty much all she does these days besides putting a few shows up on video on demand. She really should have gone into marketing as she is not really a production person. Seriously, I do more than her and I am just a freelancer. Don’t get me wrong, I like her. This coworker is a wonderful person, but just like the rest of the small staff at our local cable tv station, she’s struggling to stay relevant in a dying department. We are not ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX, HBO, USA, or any of the other big networks out there, just local to subscribers to the cable company in Michigan. But truth be told, even the big guys are struggling as there is stiff competition from video streaming platforms and online video sites.
Anyways, this coworker calls me up at home on her day off asking if I could take some things over to a hockey arena where our live hockey games come from. Why she didn’t just take the stuff with her and go up that day with the stuff is beyond me as she lives a lot closer to the arena than I do. Not knowing exactly what the stuff was, I agreed because I’m nice like that. She told me where in the office to find the promotional stuff that needs to be taken. When I get to the office, I see one tiny bag with nothing but suckers, jelly beans, and rubber bracelets sitting on the table. I called her up and asked her if that was the only thing, and apparently it was. I’m thinking, “Seriously?” Let me tell you going from Southfield to Plymouth in the late afternoon is no walk in the park. I-696 is a real bitch at that time of day. A simple 30 minute trip will take you 90 minutes. Plymouth is west of Southfield and I live south of Southfield meaning this would be way out of my way. Not exactly worth the hassle for one solitary bag of candy and rubber bracelets that will just eventually end up in the trash. If it was more than that or stuff that was more significant in value it would be different. Thank goodness for H. H is another freelancer like me who happened to be on master control duty that day. I was telling her I was going to have to leave early to drop off the bag, and being the nice girl she is, H offered to take it for me as she only lived in the next city over from the arena saving me from the needless hassle of rush hour freeway traffic.
After seeing such mixed reviews, many negative, I was originally on the fence about seeing Venom. And I don’t mean just negatives from the “professional critics” but from the average public as well. I very rarely go by what the professionals say anyways. It was surprisingly quite entertaining. Not quite to the actual origin but for that they would have had to make it a Spider-Man movie. After a numbingly slow first 45 minutes, the movie finally kicks into gear. Be patient with the first part of the movie because once the Venom symbiote finally bonds to Tom Hardy’s Eddie Brock, that’s when the fun begins. To me this movie felt more like an alien invasion story than an adaptation of one of Marvel’s more famous anti-heroes, but it was still entertaining and left me wanting a sequel as long as they don’t bog it down with unnecessary scenes as they did in the beginning of this movie. Not “OMG BEST EVER!” but still fun once it gets going. Would like to see where they take Venom in the future.
7.5 out of 10
Also note that there are 2 mid credit sequences in this film. Don’t just get up and walk out at the first fade to black.
Sometimes I can’t help but think about what may eventually happen to my body as I get older. I’m sure most do. As the body ages, things start happening that can sometimes be out of our control. While I am still pretty much healthy aside from a hormone issue I’ve had since I was a teenager, I start to worry when I feel my back ache because I’ve sat too long, the swelling ankles, or I hear my knees pop when I bend them. The knee popping isn’t really painful, just more of a nuisance I’ve been living with for a long time and could be the product of me having twisted my legs a couple times many years ago and didn’t get them checked by a doctor when it happened.
Some ailments I believe are inherited in my family and sometimes it scares me when I feel my body having an issue with something. Both sides of my family have some diabetics. My dad’s mother is diabetic, though I think her diet had a bit to do with that, and my dad was borderline diabetic. My dad’s father died in his early to mid sixties of a heart attack, my dad died at 59 of a heart failure after having numerous big heart attacks over a span of 20 years that I know of, my aunt had a mild stroke but I don’t think anything major yet , her daughter (my cousin) had a heart attack at only 40, while my other aunt has all sorts of issues with her body and is always in pain. Mom is diabetic and has joint problems which make it painful for her to move which of course puts her into the vicious cycle of gaining weight because it hurts to move yet needs to move in order to lose weight which she puts on due to not being able to move as well as her medications. Yes people, some medications make you gain weight too. And then there’s my sister who is in constant pain and has already had surgery on both knees and she is only a couple years older than me. My mother’s dad also had joint problems in his older years. Grandmother had lung cancer. I’m afraid of these fates befalling me. It scares me.
Constant pain, medications, body complications, having to depend on others, not being able to do normal day to day things, constant doctor visits (I hate doctors unless it’s Doctor Strange or Doctor Who), astronomical medical bills. All this is why I got to try to keep moving for as long as possible. I don’t want to end up immobile or in such poor health that I need to rely on others for everything, or under a mountain of debt from medical bills. Although sometimes I forget to get up off my butt after sitting for a few hours, I do try to get up and move around a few times a day, go for a walk around the neighborhood when the temperature is above 45 degrees, walk up and down the lighting ladder at work and walk a few laps around the studio, morning stretches, sandbag lifting, that sort of thing. I may not be in great athletic level shape, or even in the shape I was 20 years ago, but I don’t intend to let myself get any worse.
Not exactly sure what made me do it or why. Today I had to alter my route to the doctor’s office slightly due to part of the freeway being closed. This route took me through Madison Heights, an area I have not been to for many years. On my way back from the doctor’s, I took this same route back. For some reason, I decide to turn down a street once familiar and pause in front of a house that did not look all that different from the last time I saw it more than 20 years ago. The feeling was quite weird indeed.
The house once belonged to my dad’s mother. My grandparents lived there from a time before I was born up until about 1992 when they decided to move into a place my uncle had bought up in Clarkston, where my grandmother lives to this day. Needless to say, there are a lot of memories tied in to this place in Madison Heights and all these memories came rushing through like a tidal wave upon seeing this house triggering all sorts of emotions. It was odd how little the place had changed despite going through multiple owners since my grandparents moved away from there. The house was still white with black trim. All of the front bushes were still there, just quite overgrown, as were the three trees near the front edge of the property that were quite small in my youth. And I swear it looked like the faux stained glass window art my grandfather put in was still in one of the small front foyer windows.
I did not linger long of course, not wanting to look like a creeper, but it was long enough of a drive by to be hit with the flood of emotions from memories past. Some good, like Christmas gatherings, my sister and I getting candy bars from grandpa before heading back home from a visit because we were better behaved than our cousins according to him, summertime movie nights and video game competitions, hanging out with the only two cousins that never did me any harm and actually playing, the cats, and some other cool childhood things. Then there were the bad memories, those of being teased and tormented by my cousins and the adults never doing a damn thing about it, the one night when I was 11 and got chased around by my 18 year old cousin wielding a large knife trying to kill me on one of the weekends I stayed over (she was crazy), my first time smoking (don’t do that anymore of course), the night my sister got drunk out of her mind and one of my other cousin’s friends tried feeling her up and I smacked him away with a broom, the mischief I witnessed and sometimes partook in when staying overnight as my grandparents worked nights so no supervision, and so much more. A lot of stuff went down at that place in Madison Heights, good and bad and strange and traumatic, that could probably fill a book if I had the patience. It’s a wonder I got out alive. I will not bore you with all the memories, as there are too many for one blog post. I have been cursed with good recall and can remember everything quite vividly despite my grandmother living in the state of denial. Sometimes it’s not always good to revisit the past.
What is it with people? Really? Even when you tell people you’re not a hugger, they insist on hugging and if you refuse they keep on until you do. I never liked hugging. My parents were the exception to that of course, but all my life it never felt right and when someone hugs me I feel so downright uncomfortable and I feel as if I need to get away from the person. Sort of like a mini panic attack I suppose. I know for some people it makes them feel good, but that doesn’t mean everyone likes them.