The Hungry Hungry Writer

I’m trying to write… just anything. Work on my prose, short scenes, etc… its just not coming out. I can’t read my books, I can’t sit through a movie, I can’t even get through the day!!!

These past few days have been torturously long. I had a doctor’s appt yesterday and left at 10:00 AM and even getting to 10 AM was long.

I finally went to the gym yesterday. My swim was awful. HORRIBLE! I did some weights and it wasn’t great at all. I am DYING to go for a run but my ankle still hurts - bad!

Oh, if you want to buy a picture of me for your office desk or living room wall (as this offer has been up before) you can do so here (from my Triathlon on June 10):
“Me running, me biking“.

It may be a worthwhile investment!

Here’s my post about my Triathlon disqualification on Sunday June 25th.

“I got DQ’d from the San Bernardino Tin Man Triathlon”

At least today I get to leave early again for allergy shots. Allergy shots are such a hassle. But I do believe they are working.

I haven’t played Xbox in a long time. Well, I did play FIFA 06 the other day to pay tribute to FIFA World Cup that’s going on. I did buy a new game but haven’t even tried it…

Maybe tonight.

Although I’m not movitated to even play Xbox games.

I need a drink.

Often times people ask, ‘who’s you’re favorite music group?’ I don’t have to think about it. Ever.

U2
Is there anything better? Classic, modern, hip? Every album, every song, every word has a story to tell.

Since the day I knew how to spin a record on a player, to the day I first downloaded a song, U2 has been there! And one of their all time BEST albums is: “The Unforgetable Fire”.

Ahhhhh… high school and “The Unforgetable Fire”. It got me through it all.

Here’s one of my favorites.

“A Sort of Homecoming”
by U2

And you know it’s time to go
Through the sleet and driving snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that’s in the distance.

And you hunger for the time
Time to heal, ‘desire’ time
And your earth moves beneath your own dream landscape.

On borderland we run.
I’ll be there, I’ll be there tonight
A high-road, a high-road out from here.

The city walls are all come down
The dust a smoke screen all around
See faces ploughed like fields that once
Gave no resistance.

And we live by the side of the road
On the side of a hill as the valleys explode
Dislocated, suffocated
The land grows weary of it’s own.

O com-away, o com-away, o-com, o com-away, I say I
O com-away, o com-away, o-com, o com-away, I say I

Oh, oh on borderland we run
And still we run, we run and don’t look back
I’ll be there, I’ll be there
Tonight, tonight

I’ll be there tonight, I believe
I’ll be there so high
I’ll be there tonight, tonight.

Oh com-away, I say, o com-away, I say.

The wind will crack in winter time
This bomb-blast lightning waltz.
No spoken words, just a scream
Tonight we’ll build a bridge across the sea and land
See the sky, the burning rain
She will die and live again tonight.

And your heart beats so slow
Through the rain and fallen snow
Across the fields of mourning to a light that’s in the distance.
Oh, don’t sorrow, no don’t weep
For tonight at last I am coming home.
I am coming home.

Here are three swimming tips for any aspiring swimmers (www.active.com):

“The swim must be relaxed, allowing you to move through the water with the least expenditure of energy reserves.”

“The swim must be fast enough to get you to the bike leg in a reasonable amount of time, depending on your personal goals for the race.”

“The swim must be controlled, so you keep a feeling of confidence throughout the leg, staying positive leading in to the transition and bike portion of the event.”

Three tips. I didn’t accomplish any of them.

I tried to convince myself that this was just a petty little triathlon with no meaning in my life: So what if I quit? It wouldn’t bother me. It was a stupid little Tri that I wasn’t really prepared for. I was doing everything you do when you want to quit. But there’s a reason why I try to CONVINCE myself to quit. It’s because I really don’t want to.

If I turned back to shore and quit it would haunt me for the rest of my life. Yeah… it would haunt me. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I should quit I’m not sure I could ever

I know I wasn’t going to die out on the lake. I was just taking longer than I should due to anxiety and panic attacks. A common thing with beginner Triathletes. The bottom line is dealing with these unexpected (or expected) events. But today - it beat me. The mental anguish I was going through because I was unable to perform like I expected weighed on me. I was supposed get into the water and, despite resting here or there on my back, finish just like I would finish in the gym pool. It was easy. Simple. 400 yards. Piece of cake!

But it wasn’t even a piece of candy.

Quitting sounded really good. But that’s a hard sell for me. I already have two DNS (did not show) on paid events and now a DNF? The two Tris that I ‘did not show’ for weren’t really in my control. A DNF in this event would be a horrible side note to my early Tri-career! There is something I have discovered about myself. I’ve discovered that I find it hard to quit. No matter the torture. Even when I feel I’m at the verge of virtual collapse.

I got back on my stomach and back to the swim path just as the 2nd wave swarmed over me. Talk about adding salt to an open wound. Now there were more bodies to bump into, more bodies to kick, and more bodies to swim past me.

At least now I had something to follow. And I did my best to keep up. It was still like swimming with a blindfold, but I followed the flow and pulled the water under me and swam. I tried to grab a draft from someone. But that didn’t help since they were faster and I couldn’t even keep up.

I was supposed to relax. Just like one of those tips from www.active.com. Ha. Yeah. Relax. I was dealing with a bout of claustrophobia, I was scared and I had a panic attack in the water. I was also kicking my legs like my life depended on it. So this is when I remember to play ‘the name game’.

You start with a name, ‘Glenn’, and you come up with another name that starts with the last letter in that name; that would be ‘N’. I tried to come up with a name after every three strokes or breath. Glenn, Nancy, Yang, Gordon, Nick, Kelly, Young, Greg, George, Ethan, Nigel, Lenny… As I swam it seemed like so many names ended in Y, G, or N. I was struggling with NOT repeating names. But in order to keep up with my stroke cadence if I had to repeat a name I did. I remember using Otto twice, I used Nick more than once, Yang and Young and Yung were repeated, I repeated several names and came up with some unusual ones like: Octavio, Aurora, Kitahara…

The ‘name game’ works. I can’t remember the final turn to the finish. I can’t remember swimming the last fifty or so meters. I can’t remember the last six or so minutes. All I remember was getting on my feet, weak from the unnecessary kicking, and I walked toward the cheering crowd that waited for all the many swimmers.

I struggled out of the water. I pulled down the zipper of my wetsuit and grabbed the swim cap off my head. I pulled my goggles off and scanned the crowd for Donna and the rest of my family. Were they worried? Did they think they missed me coming out of the water? I wanted to give them a thumbs up – tired as I was – I wanted them to see that I did it. My first ‘regular’ tri swim. My first ‘semi’ open water swim. Maybe they are at the transition area. Maybe I just missed them.

The fastest male swimmer finished the swim portion in less than five minutes. Less than five minutes to do 400 yards. Wow. I wasn’t even half way at the five minute mark!

Goals… Goals… Goals… It may seem like the swim took an hour or so for me. It felt like an. My goal was UNDER 10 minutes. 9 minutes tops. My final time was: 13 min 51 sec. That’s all. But yeah, it felt like an eternity. 13 minutes is a long ass time. Doesn’t look like it on paper, but do something for 13 minutes straight. Hang from a pull up bar for 13 minutes and fight for every second. Talk in front of a crowd for 13 minutes. Shoot baskets for 13 minutes straight… You’ll be praying for it to end way before the 13 minute mark.

The first leg of the triathlon took away my legs. I had a bike ride and a run to go and my legs were so tired I knew I was going to use the bike to rest. My plan was to conserve energy on the swim and put it all out on the bike and then take the run as it comes. Even if my legs were jelly after the bike, I already know after a mile or so I’d be able to pick up my run pace. So that was my plan. A very straightforward and positive plan. But that changed and the only positive thing about the triathlon so far was that I was not dead.

I made it.

Now… the Bike…

There are a few athletic events in my life that can make me wake up in a panic attack - soaked from head to toe. One has to do with my start up the ranks in the World Karate Organization in 1998. The goal: to eventually fight for the championships. I was still fast enough, stronger than I’ve ever been, and if you were in my weight division I’d knock you out. I looked over to the guy I was eventually supposed to fight. He was menacing. I have never been intimated by another fighter in my entire life. Ever. So this fight was a walk in the park. The fight started and I found my range quick. I was relaxed and after a couple of moves I knew I had it. I was already ahead in points when I tried to avoid a punch and fell back. He fell on top of me. As the ref pulled him off me I felt something slam into my face. It was his knee. The ref looked at me frighteningly and called a trainer - my Shihan (Gordon Doversola). My nose was positioned WAY off center. FREAKISHLY OFF CENTER!

It was broken.

Shihan grabbed the lapel of his gi with his fingers and told me to close my eyes. He squeezed my nose with his gi, held my head in place and asked ‘ready’ and before I could say anything he SNAPPED my nose back into place with one powerful, confident (like he’s done it a million times) jerk. I heard bones. I heard myself scream. My opponent was waiting on the mat ready to continue the fight. The ref looked over and Shihan shook his head, ‘no’.

A fraction of a second of protection and I would have had a different story to tell. I would have won that fight. I know I would have. But I was careless and I got nailed and I lost. And it hurts my gut thinking about it.

That fight didn’t stop me from training for another qualifier. But an injured shoulder from a kick, by my ‘future brother in-law’, a few months later did. And that was the end of my fight career. I’m eight years older and I have accepted the fact that there is no going back. No way. But that one fight will haunt me forever.

So here I am, June 10, 2006 - in the water. Nervous as hell. Afraid of the water.

The sound of “ONE… GO!”, followed by cheers and the amazing feeling of starting a race, jumped started my heart. But as soon as the overpowering feeling of individuals moving as one overwhelmed me, it disappeared in a flash… or splash as far as I was concerned.

I took a deep breath and I started my swim.

The splashing was all around me. I was kicked, I was on someone’s hip, and I struggled for balance. Even though I was getting hit by seemingly careless swimmers, when I smacked someone’s foot and kicked someone’s head, I felt like I invaded their space. But they were doing what I was doing… fighting to stay in the game. Fighting to stay alive. Fighting to survive.

I was a warrior before I started Triathlons, I decided to be a warrior again. So in my head I took that mental attitude. Usually it’s me against the bike, me against the run, not me against mob rule. I fought to find my space and I went into battle thinking just that. It’s a battle. And I wasn’t about to back down.

My first landmark was about 25 meters away: one length of the gym swimming pool. Once I turned that it was a straight swim for another 350 or so yards before the turn for the finish line. No problems. All I had to worry about was fatigue, and there was none.

It was tough to keep sight of my landmark, the first buoy, which was the significant sign of turning and heading the long 350 more yards to the finish. I got nine strokes in and checked, another nine and checked, and it felt like I wasn’t gaining any ground. I looked at my landmark, I had swum outside of the crowd and they started to pull away so I cut in a little bumping into others who were trying to stay straight. Being on the outside I had to swing around and head back towards the landmark. It was now more than a 25 meter swim and more like 50.

But I felt good, I wasn’t fatigued, I was going great… Physically my conditioning told me everything would be okay. But I couldn’t breath. And suddenly, it was a mental game. And it was way too soon to play it. All of a sudden it wasn’t my throat that felt tight, it was my whole chest. I felt claustrophobic in my wetsuit. It felt so tight that every time I took a deep breath the tight fit squeezed it right out of my lungs. My feet also felt higher in the water than normal, which is good, but it made me feel unbalanced. I was fighting to keep my head close to the top of the water and felt like everything was forcing the top part of my body and my head to sink into the water and my legs to float. Which is the total opposite of how I swim but the more proper form. I wasn’t prepared for this feeling of claustrophobia. And I panicked.

I hit my target. That was goal one. But goal one was also accompanied by fear like you wouldn’t believe. I sighted a swimmer in front of me waving his arms. I thought he was waving at someone on shore. He didn’t look like he was struggling, but he wasn’t swimming. Just doggy paddling about fifteen feet in front of me.

A lifeguard on a surfboard paddled her way toward him and as I swam by I heard her ask if he was okay… He said ‘no’. She asked if he needed help and he said he just needed to rest. This was only 75 or so meters into the swim! And I was feeling the same way.

I got on my back and tried hard to get air into my lungs and keep it there long enough to relax instead of hyperventilate. I tried everything to relax.

I looked into the sky, I’m not sure if I prayed, and I looked at the shore. I was breathing fast and hard but I wasn’t tired. It was a pure panic attack.

I got on my side and tried to ‘skull’ the water when it just felt like I couldn’t swim anymore. The crowd of swimmers were way out of reach by now. I couldn’t believe how fast they got to where they were. There were just a few strays like me fighting to stay the course. But I just couldn’t stroke, I just couldn’t keep my balance in the water, and I couldn’t complete this 400 yard swim. There was no way. No possible way.

I saw others holding on to a lifeguard’s surfboard. There were like five or six lifeguards watching us in the water. They were awesome.

I looked out to shore, trying to find my family… Even if they were in view, there was no way I could make them out. I was too far.

I looked ahead at another swimmer holding on to the surfboard for dear life. And I dug in and swam, kicking and gasping for air for the security of a surfboard ahead.

The lifeguard asked if I was okay. I muttered, ‘tired’. “You just need a rest?” I nodded as I instinctively made my way to the front of the surfboard. I took a deep breath and screamed in my head, “COME ON! GO! COME ONE! GO!”

I went.

I did everything I learned. Bilateral breathing, good relaxed pulls and recovery. “FUCK IT! COME ON!” I took it as a battle for life. Facing adversity in the face and kicking its ass. I got mad. I was furious. And I sliced my hands into the water with a purpose with every stroke. It takes me about 25 strokes to go 25 meters in the pool. That’s about 8 breaths in 30 or so seconds. But three breaths and 10 meters later I was gasping for air.

I got on my back and kicked trying again to desperately relax and get some air into my lungs. I took a look up and the lifeguard was chasing me fast. What was going on? Did she think I was drowning? I got back on my stomach to show I was okay. I mean, that would be embarrassing if she thought I was drowning. I was panicked, I was out of breath, I was claustrophobic but I WAS NOT DROWNING!

When I got on my stomach I noticed I was WAY off course. That’s why she chased me. I was actually swimming in a bee line to the shore. Holy shit. Talk about embarrassing. I should have faked drowning so I could be saved from this miserable mess. I kinda gave her a laugh and shouted, ‘I’m going the wrong way, huh?” She laughed back.

I turned back to the swim course. But the shore was closer now. And I considered swimming to it. I was really, really, really thinking about quitting. Quitting because of fear. I was feeling so disappointed in myself - as if I quit already. Inside my head it was over. And I was done. The people were watching. They were probably laughing at me as I accidentally swam toward shore. Why not just complete the embarrassment and give up. I wasn’t racing anybody but myself, so what’s the big deal if I quit?

The whole, ‘Never Quit’ idea I try to teach Jake crossed my mind and I thought to myself… screw that idea. There’s a good reason to quit. One is quitting because you just can’t do it anymore and you gave it everything you had. Which I did. I gave it EVERYTHING I had. Everything. But my mind, my body, my training… it just wasn’t good enough to get it done.

The lifeguard was only fifty meters away and I readjusted my sights from the shore and back to him. Fifty meters. In two minutes I’d be there. So I buried my head in the water and kicked hard.

I struggled to grab on to the surfboard and this time really took some time to relax and catch my breath. It seemed over. I was going to quit. I was going to swim to shore.

Then that fight back in 1998 crossed my mind. Not the fight per se, but the regret, the anxiety and the middle of the night panic attacks I continue to have because I was unable to continue. The regret and horror of it all still haunts me today. I am already going to be haunted by the fact that I had to grab a hold of a surfboard because I couldn’t swim a straight 400 yards in a lake. That’s already eating at me as I write this.

I let go and did it all over again. I struggled in the dark water and tried to get back on the course.

I felt deflated. I made quick checks to make sure I wasn’t going the wrong way again. Every single time I turned to swim I’d last 9 strokes and three breaths before gasping for air. It wasn’t torture, it was emotional pain, it was complete and utter frustration and disappointment every time I gasped for air.

There were no lifeguards to swim to from here. If I needed someone they’d have to swim to me as they were spread out helping others or patrolling the swimmers along the way. My off course swim had made me swim an additional fifty or so meters in order to get back on course.

I looked at the finish line and swimmers were already coming out of the water. I wasn’t even half way through and swimmers were running out of the water.

Seven minutes in. That’s all. I knew this because I saw the second wave approaching me. And they started six minutes after me.

All I needed to do was make it to one more marker then swim to the finish.

One more marker - far off in the distance.

Then I looked back at the shore again. It was closer.

(to be continued)

June 10, 2006 - LA TRI EXPRESS #3 - Race Report “The Swim” (1)

I might as well write about it. Although I put it off for a while.

It started Saturday morning on the 10th of June. And if any morning starts off bad it’s a morning where I sleep through my alarm and Donna has to wake me up. That NEVER happens. 5:30 AM and yes, I missed my alarm. I slept through the first one at 5:00 and the 5:30 back up alarm only woke Donna up. She nudged me knowing I had to get up and get ready for my Triathlon. If it wasn’t for her subconscious telling her I needed to get up, my subconscious would have kept me in bed for at least another hour.

Friday night wasn’t as smooth as I would have liked it to be. This is why a Triathlon should be held on a Sunday. How do you get ready for a Saturday Tri? People work on Fridays, they need to wind down, and they really don’t have time to mentally prepare for a Saturday Tri. A Saturday off to do a light workout or relax is ideal. You can spend the day making sure everything on your Tri-checklist is checked off and mentally prepare for a Triathlon. I did get a head start on Friday but it wasn’t enough. My awesome boss let me leave work a little early so I rushed to the gym to get a 400 meter uneventful swim in.

After that easy workout things seemed to be so rushed.

I had to get the kids home, clean the house, get all my gear ready and have a pasta dinner. Spaghetti Factory would have been my preference. We were planning on going to California Pizza Kitchen, but a stint at the Mall led us to Hot Dog on a Stick and some Italian place in the Food Park. I ordered a penne dish and it was awful. Horrible. Gross. Unacceptable as far as a ‘carb-loaded’ dinner goes. But I ate it. And I hated it. By the time we got home it was already late. My feet hurt for some reason, my ankle was sore and my Friday evening wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Restful, peaceful and relaxing.

Finally… sleep. But that was late that night.

So Saturday morning… I rushed into the shower to wake up after my over sleep. Then I ate breakfast.

My pre-race meal wasn’t as nutritious as it normally is. Donna usually prepares a hot bowl of oatmeal for me, I drink a full glass of water and a small Gatorade, and have a granola bar or something. This time all I had was a bowl of cold Apple Jacks cereal, a half of a banana and some coffee.

By 6:15 AM I’m in my mini van and off to San Dimas and the North end of Bonelli Lake.

I was in a haze driving. Here I am, four days later, and I can’t really remember the drive. I can’t remember if it was still dark or if the sun was up. I remember getting to San Dimas and not knowing where to go. It must have been 7:00 AM before I found parking and headed to the registration area.

The park was already packed with vendors, racers, and family/friends of Triathletes. I looked forward to seeing Jake, Donna, Jess and Bella before the start. The lines weren’t long to register, but the lines for the bathroom were the normal 10-20 minute wait. Luckly, this time, I was wearing tri-shorts and a tri-top instead of my normal one piece tri-suit. It is so much easier to go to the bathroom with a two piece race outfit Thanks to www.trisports.com who got my gear to my door on Friday – two business days – for free.

I went to my minivan and got my bike and transition pack together and took the long walk to the transition area. FORTUNATELY, I grabbed the ONE spot on the end of a rack where I like to set up. You get a little bit more space on the end and it’s easier to find your bike when you go through transition. UNFORTUNATELY, the rack was not in the middle of the transition area. It wasn’t in the best place as I had to walk my bike the whole distance of the transition area before my run and after my swim.

I set up my transition area and went through the routine of Transition in my head. I placed my socks inside my bike shoes, I made sure my bike was in the right gear, I placed water bottles in their places and secured my helmet, gloves and running shoes close together. Satisfied with my area I decided to check out the lake. I had an hour plus before countdown. I was in wave one of the Tri Express scheduled for 8:40 AM. It was only 7:30. A long wait meant more apprehension, more fear and uneasy anticipation.

I left a message for Donna on how to get to the lake, packed my non-race essentials into my transition bag, and took a stroll with my iPod. I checked out the starting area, the dark water, and the other racers warming up with runs and swims. I took a few pictures of the very dark lake and what seemed an eternity swim. Only a 400 yards swim. Easy right?

Before I knew it, the race organizer was announcing instructions on the race starts. I had ten minutes to get to the starting line.

I rushed over to my Transition area and grabbed my wetsuit. I smeared Body Glide on my lower legs, neck, under my arms and slipped a grocery bag on my foot. The grocery bag made slipping the wetsuit on extremely easy. A great trick I learned from www.beginnertriathlete.com. I pulled it all they way up, zipped the back, grabbed my goggles and swim cap then started my long walk to the starting line. I hate walking barefoot.

I stood on the beach and surveyed the water. I got bold and decided to swim about 50 meters and it felt great. The water was in the low 60s, but my wetsuit kept me extremely warm. It was hard to see in the water, maybe a foot or so visibility, but the calm water and buoyancy that the wetsuit gave me encouragement. ‘They’ say a wetsuit will make you more buoyant… ‘they’ were right! The feeling of confidence lifted my spirits. I was more ready than ever.

I kept looking out to the crowd for Donna and the gang but they were nowhere to be seen. I stood nervously as the National Anthem was sung and waited for the first wave of the Championship Race to start. They had a 1.5 mile swim. I only had to worry about 400 yards. And that’s what began to happen. Worry.

The orange buoy looked further away than normal. The finish line looked more than 400 yards away. And my wetsuit seemed to be suffocating me around the throat area. Not a good thing.

I looked at the crowd.

No Donna.

I started to panic. I wished I had at least brought Jessica with me so I could tell her that I was nervous. My knees were weak. And my right foot cramped up. Just like that, without doing anything, my foot cramped up.

I stretched it out and stood on some flat wet sand in the water when I couldn’t hold in my emotions anymore. I turned to a lady next to me and blurted out, “I’m nervous.”

I had to tell someone. I couldn’t tell Jessica, or Donna and I wouldn’t want Jake or Bella to worry… but it didn’t matter. They weren’t there. So I had to tell some stranger who I hoped felt the same way I did. But she didn’t. She asked if it was my first time and of course you know the answer. She said the key is to try and swim straight. Try to catch your landmarks when you look up every few strokes or so and continue to swim toward them. She said I should practice swimming with my eyes closed in the pool since there’s no lane lines in the lake or ocean.

Great. All great. Yes - Great advice. I may have read all that before. I knew all that stuff. But getting the advice from someone just minutes before the race made me panic even more.

I couldn’t breath. I pulled my wetsuit zipper down my back a little and took some Zen like breaths trying desperately to relax when the race starter announced, “ONE MINUTE!”

Holy shit. One minute. One minute. One minute. I squatted down to wake my legs up. I stood and tried to shake some life into my legs, knees and arms.

Thirty seconds?

I waded out as far as I could as it was an in the water start. I wanted to pee… But I didn’t.

Ten… Nine…

I blew bubbles in the water, trying to relax, taking more deep breaths, trying desperately to loosen the noose around my neck…

Five… four…

Other Triathletes were starting to crowd me…

Two…

The countdown took forever!

…and one.

I took a deep breath and I started my swim.

(to be continued)

I was diagnosed with stress by my Dermatologist. Ha. That’s kinda funny, huh? Whenever my Primary Care Physician asks if I’m stressed and that could contribute to whatever I’m in there for, I just pass it off as a ‘whatever type of diagnosis’. But my Dermatologist?

Stress?

Am I?

My ankle hurts. REALLY REALLY BAD. That kinda stresses me out. I have this analysis due on Wednesday. That stresses me out. And I have a Triathlon on Sunday with a hurt ankle. That stresses me out.

Stress.

I don’t believe it really. Of course there’s different levels of stress, but stress doesn’t really affect me.

Or does it.

I go into my Dermatologist office on June 6. My neck and arms have a serious rash. A rash I’ve never had before. Eczema. I know I have Eczema, but its never looked like this before. My skin was itchy, dry, bumpy, rough. It was horrible. I get prescribed some medication and was told to see her in 10 days.

On June 10th I started my vacation. On June 10th my skin was fine. On June 10th I didn’t have to think about anything other than Triathlons, Lego Land, Sunbathing, alcohol and sleep. On June 18th I had my last night of vacation. I still had the best tan I’ve ever had, my skin was literally glowing, I was relaxed and I was feeling good.

For the past couple of nights I haven’t been able to sleep very well.

On Monday June 19th I came into work.

Since then my skin has been itchy and dry.

Eczema…

Stress.

My Dermatologist was right.

So now what?

How do you all of a sudden just not be stressed?

I’ve been watching a bunch of movies on DVD and last night actually managed to see a movie at a theater. “X-Men 3 - The Last Stand”. That review is pending.

But I posted a bunch of movies just to catch up… which are:

Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Over the Hedge (2006)
X-Men (2000)
X2: X-Men United (2003)

And if you haven’t read my Vacation review READ IT! My Vacation in Review

Oh, and to add to two memorable moments of my vacation, here are some odd requests that were asked from my kids…

Jacob: “Papa, can you build me a bird that I can OPERATE from the inside?”

Bella: “Papa, can you get me a puppy with no teeth?”

In preperation of seeing X3 or whatever the title is… I watched X-Men and X2 on DVD… So here’s X2:

X2: X-Men United (2003)
My Rating: 8/10

Some story lines and characters weren’t all that great. I mean, Bobby Drake (Iceman) doesn’t have a brother!!! Not that I know of. He was only used to get Bobby in trouble in the movie. Of course there are other abnormalties in the 1st and 2nd movie but I will overlook those. I just couldn’t sit in the theater squirming in my seat thinking, wait, did I miss something growing up as an XMEN fan? Does Bobby have a brother? Hmmm… Anyway, good story, good ending… Jean Grey turns into Phoenix (I expect) and Nightcrawler kicked some ass in the beginning of the movie! Awesome. Colossus and Kitty Pride made some cameo’s as well!

Favorite Scene: Nightcrawler’s action sequence in the beginning of the movie. It set the tone for the movie. It was awesome!

X-Men (2000)
My Rating: 9/10

I loved the X-Men growing up. And this movie DID NOT disappoint.

It is awesome.

I’ve seen this movie several times and love it each time. The characters were perfect… ALL of them. er… Except for one. The character is great, the actor who played her is totally over-rated. And that’s Halle Berry. There’s only one movie I liked her in and that’s “Introducing Dorothy Dandrich”. I didn’t even get the hype of her in Monster’s Ball. She stretched her abilities, it was good, but still, something about her just didn’t work for me in that movie as well. Anyway, she’s surrounded by an awesome cast in X-Men. But it isn’t an actors movie. So it doesn’t matter. BUT… she still sucked in it! From greats like Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen to up and comers Hugh Jackman, Famke Janssen and Anna Paquin and even Rebecca Romijn-Stamos and Ray Park! And even Ray Park shines over her. I watched the deleted scenes on the DVD and boy, they made a smart move deleting the ones she was in. Some of her lines didn’t seem all that great, but I’m thinking they didn’t seem great because she was saying them! And Storm is an integral part of this team’s leadership! I shake my head at the ‘unfortunate-ness’ of the Storm situation.

Favorite Scene: All the scenes with Jean Grey. (My favorite female Marvel Hero! Yes, over Susan Richards). Oh… I did like Spiderman’s nemeisis The Black Cat quite a bit growing up.

Over the Hedge (2006)
My Rating: 7/10

Uh… From what I saw it was pretty funny. But kinda flat. Yeah, I fell asleep somewhere in the beginning. I don’t know for how long. Could have been as short as 5 minutes or as long as 15. I didn’t miss much to be honest. I would have been the first to jump out of my seat to take the kids to the bathroom. I mean, its totally not Monster’s Inc., Toy Story 1 or 2 or even Nemo quality. Not even close. Kinda Ice Age 2 quality as far as story, characters and fun. But the kids liked it and that’s the most important part! The voices of Garry Shandling and Steven Carell were great! The popcorn was yum too.

Favorite Scene: William Shatner’s dying scene on the street. So good, so bad, so William Shatner!!!