Watchmen

As promised last year, my birthday celebration kicked off with seeing Watchmen.

I liked and disliked it. Visually it was all there. Emotionally it wasn't. I realize now the overwhelming feelings I had at the theater came from me and my love of the book, not from the movie.

At this point, all that matters that Watchmen is getting more mainstream recognition. I love seeing people read it on the subway. I love walking past B&N and having a blood stained yellow happy face smile back at me. I love DC's After Watchmen campaign, a guide for people who would like to read more graphic novels, but aren't sure what to buy next.

I know there are some who would disagree, but I think all comic movies are good for the industry. Was I worried Watchmen would get fucked up? Of course and I don't think it did, but in the end, who cares? It doesn't change how I feel about the book and the characters. Even the worst comic movies don't stop longtime fans from reading. In my mind a comic film was a success if it gets one non-reader to buy his (or her!) first issue or graphic novel. Watchmen is doing just that, which is why I'm glad it was made, even if it didn't end up being one of my favorite films. Being one of my favorite books is enough for me!

Birthday Weekend!

Tuesday is The Day of the Space Voyager, aka my birthday. A new tradition is developing thanks to Hollywood releasing movie adaptations of my favorite books in early March. Last year was Watchmen, this year ALICE IN WONDERLAND IN IMAX 3D!! WOO HOO!! I am SUPER psyched, hence the CAPS LOCK.

I'm gearing up by rereading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. I watched the cartoon yesterday. I also planned on finishing my "Alice-themed" kitchen, but I never got around to it. "Alice-themed" is in quotes because there's nothing in there except the Disney dolls a friend gave me in college. The rest of my Alice stuff is in a cabinet, waiting for me to put shelves up. I think after being stored in there for six years they've probably given up...

Speaking of years, I apparently don't know how old I am. Math tells me I will be 32. My brain tells me I'm in my thirties and it doesn't seem to matter where.

The other day I told someone I will be 33. Last night I was going to bed and didn't feel like brushing my teeth. I thought to myself, "Shannon, you're 37 years old. You HAVE to brush your teeth." Then I said out loud, "What the fuck? How old am I??"

I blame my dad. Instead of saying "Happy X Birthday!" he says "Happy (X+1) Year!" He's been doing it forever. For example, on my 14th birthday he said, "Happy 15th Year!" Bah! No wonder I don't know my age.

My birthday weekend is really nice so far. I went to the usual pub on Friday. Yesterday I did nothing except watch Alice, read, go food shopping, and eat sushi. This morning I ran in Central Park again. I'm really proud of myself!! I haven't gone since January because either I was hungover, Bacon was hungover, or the weather was shitty. I haven't wanted to run on my own yet, but today I woke up and said fuck it. I almost didn't go because I got all self-conscious, thinking people will laugh at me for sucking. They didn't. No one cares! My inner critic was just fucking with me. I'm 39 years old, you'd think I'd have that bitch under wraps by now.

The rest of the day is open. I might treat myself to a mani/pedi and a new outfit. Yay!

Happy Birthday to Me!!! Happy Unbirthday to You!!!

Next year's birthday celebration...

will be at the movies.

If for some ridiculously strange reason you will only allow yourself to read one graphic novel in your entire life, read WATCHMEN.

Holy crap, I didn't know they had pics up.