I  sat at my usual spot on the couch – all the way to the left, right on the edge, hugging the suede arm as my fingers curled up the orange velvet tongue of the duck on my yellow blanket. I was watching Peter Pan, not for the first time, or second time; this had become a repetitive activity. I had this fascination for Tinker Bell, probably, truly at present, because she hated Wendy Darling and would stop at nothing to keep her and Peter apart, and I love when those mermaids get in Wendy’s face. Peter was really a ladies’ man. But back then, at my ripe age of six, it’s because Tink had something I wanted, the power to fly.

After a few minutes of loading visions of clouds, the feeling of no gravity, and the dull hum of the movie’s score playing on the TV set, I set off on my journey, a journey that would take me high above the fish tank, the remote controls, the blanket with the duck, and I’d fly around the living room like I was a mermaid in a lagoon, a young child cast under Peter Pan’s spell. I lifted my arms into the air as I climbed up the arm of the plush couch, as if it were the highest, most magical pinnacle in all the land, and jumped.

For the next decade, I sporadically had these dreams at night that allowed me to fly anywhere I wanted to go. The top of skyscrapers, my friend’s house, over oceans, and through foreign towns I had never even seen before. I could float through a snowstorm, emerging into the pillowed clouds as if I were riding on Falcor’s furry spine. I’d wake up feeling like I had just watched a movie.

One night I had one dream in particular that woke me in the morning feeling inspired, shaken and inventive.

“Mom, I just had a dream that I think could be the next great Steven Spielberg film.”

My mom was sitting at the kitchen table focusing on the newspaper, her eyes occasionally peeking over her reading glasses.

“Uh huh.”

She turned the page.

I was literally leaping through the air, my hands overwhelming the space around me.

“It was like a cross between Back To The Future and E.T., or The Goonies and Weird Science. Kids all of a sudden realized they could fly. I just saw images of these kids, groggily floating up into the air from their bedroom windows; they were wearing high top sneakers, like, old-school Reeboks and ankle-cut stone washed jeans.And there were all of these tall trees…”

“Well, write this all down. Maybe you’ve got something. It’s good to remember dreams.”

She went off on her usual tangents about spirituality. But all I could think about was that music – the music from the dream, it was like the dream world version of John Williams’ greatest score.

After that morning, and in the following weeks, I kept thinking about that dream, and started having other dreams about outer space and lost underworld cities. What was going on here? I felt overpowered by this sudden wave of motion picture masterpieces taking over my sleep time. I was so tired during the day that I just had to do something about this. That night, the night it all came to a screeching halt, Peter Pan was on TV. There was a knock at my bedroom door and my mom peeked in, shaking a small paper cup in her hand.

“I know you’ve been having trouble sleeping, so I brought you some Ambien. Take one – no, just take half. That’s what I always do.”

My mom is a “take half” kind of lady. But an hour later, as I lay on my bed and the joyous sounds from Never Never Land serenaded me to sleep, I popped the pill into my mouth and when I woke up, I couldn’t remember my dream.

When I relayed this at my creative writing workshop (back in college), everyone sighed and moaned.

“Awww…but! That’s so sad,” the professor wailed.

“No, it was pure bliss,” I defended.

“And have you ever stayed up on Ambien?”

“No, what happens?” A student smiled.

“I was doodling, and I drew a Jetson. Judy Jetson. Not sure how it happened, but she appeared on paper. Then I got up to get a glass of water and felt like I was walking on air, in the Jetson orbit.”

“Sounds dangerous,” the professor said sarcastically.

My thoughts exactly.

“Have you ever jumped off your couch when you were six years old, thinking you could fly? That’s dangerous.”

If it weren’t for my impressive collection of Polaris songs, I’d be thoroughly disappointed in myself right now. I just discovered the 16 (yes, 16!) Adventures of Pete & Pete shorts from 1989. They were one-minute spots in between programming that aired on Nickelodeon before the show was picked up for regular 30-minute episodes. These are pre-1993 when the first season began. Oh, god. I bet this is how Little Pete felt when he finally remembered how his favorite song went. Heavenly.

Anyway, Big Pete (Mike Maronna) looks like he’s 8 and his freckles and buck teeth are too adorable to fathom, and, and! Little Pete (Danny Tamberelli)’s infamous tattoo, Petunia gets a full minute’s worth of air time. Her origin is still unknown, but now I understand why Pete wears long sleeve flannel — to cover up so Mom doesn’t faint. And, who is that man playing Dad? That is not Don Wrigley. Glad they fixed that. Have I mentioned how excited I am by this yet?

I don’t need to get into the rhetoric and visual splendor of Pete & Pete. It’s a tender topic that makes me want to walk down a tree-lined suburban sidewalk and eat the yellow candy on a candy necklace (it tastes like summer). If you want a refresher, you should read this. And, here is the first of many anecdotes involving those two red-headed brothers and their wanderlust world.

“Nostalgia – it’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, ‘nostalgia’ literally means ‘the pain from an old wound.’ It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels – around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know we are loved.“

- Mad Men, episode 113 “The Wheel”

Fine, fine. But this is only happening because I can’t get “Slow Life” by Grizzly Bear out of my head. To the male audience that carouses my blog: leave now, you’ve been warned. This is about to get all sorts of….

I may be the only person on the planet who actually likes Kristen Stewart and defends her. But, her favorite novel in the Twilight Saga is New Moon, and it shows. I was hesitant about this second film in the series because a) there was a new director, b) it’s the saddest of all the books in the saga, and c) the first movie blew. Chris Weitz, the new director in charge, exceeded my expectations, and did everything I was hoping he would with the film that was lacking in the first. Attention to detail, great shots, a slow progression, steady focus on plot. And, bonus: Bella Swan narrating her emails to Alice Cullen in a voice-over throughout. Everything actually kind of made sense this second time around. We knew Edward left her. We felt her devastation (the month-to-month bay window scene was gripping). And we knew Jacob Black had come in to save the day….(pausing to think about various moments that almost made me a Team Jacob convert, almost.) Their chemistry completely tests everything she has with Edward, that much I know. Rob Pattinson, time to step up your game in Eclipse.

What I didn’t like were the oddly placed, unintentional comical undertones (i.e. the underwater scene when Bella almost drowns, or when she and Edward are frolicking in the forest while Alice is having a premonition that Bella will be turned into a vampire.) Hey! that’s the first time I used the word vampire! If it hadn’t been for Jasper Cullen’s freak out at Bella’s birthday party, I would have forgotten this was a movie about vampires.

But I blame that on the overabundance of ridiculous knock-off TV shows and movies about vampires that have emerged from the woodwork lately. Fangs, blood, fangs, more blood. It’s hokey. Twilight is deeper than that. Yeah, deeper. If you can get beyond the marketing gimmicks, 12 year olds, fan-fic, and general skepticism of a franchise that’s been overly hyped, it has a richness to it that its fans are loyal to no matter what. And, with artists like Sea Wolf, Lykke Li, Bon Iver, Thom Yorke, and Band of Skulls, the scenes were so much more emotional than I imagined they’d be. Overall: the entire composition of New Moon is a serious upgrade from Twilight.

As you may have noticed, I got on this music kick. I like the idea of having a theme, or a branch. And “Acoustic Monday” is that outlet. Radiohead has always been one of my favorite bands, and I favor their second album from 1995, The Bends. When I listen to “My Iron Lung” I tend to think about the red Kool-Aid containers in the cafeteria scene of Clueless. I have an even greater acoustic version of this song somewhere on my computer, it gives me chills every time, but that’s neither here nor there. Best line of the song is the opening sentence.

Greetings and salutations. I apologize for the lack of articles as of late. I am in the midst of finishing my first novel, which requires a lot of brooding, coffee drinking, eye squinting, and tapping my fingers against the keyboard. For the most part, holidays are overrated and oversold. But Thanksgiving has and always will be nearest to my heart. It’s a chance to rake in extra good karma points, tell people you care about them, thank, and give. There is nothing that pumpkin pie and turkey can’t fix. There just isn’t. Trust me, I’m a writer.

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

To navigate my holiday playlist, press the play button in the center, and then use the forward arrow to the right of the scroll wheels to move to the next song. 

For nostalgia’s sake, I thought I’d post some highlights from this past weekend. 

I can’t remember if the drive back from the Sarasota Medieval Festival was the first time I had heard Oasis. But I do remember sitting in the back seat of Mrs. Idelson’s car, staring down at my wax hand mold, hardened into the shape of a peace sign and crumbling at the base. And “Wonderwall” was playing. 

I can’t remember if “1979″ by The Smashing Pumpkins reminded me of my babysitter because she was born in 1979, or if she reminded me of the song because I had just listened to it on a cassette tape in her car. But I do remember staring up at the telephone lines as we rolled down the street towards my neighborhood, filing through all her other tapes in a large bin. “Kids in America” was written in green pen on one.

I can’t remember sneaking into Romeo + Juliet, or if we chickened out at the last minute. But I do remember buying The Cardigans’ First Band on the Moon album the day after I saw it, and bringing it into art class, we were making paper mache that week, and one boy named Jerry asked to sit next to me. “The only guy for me is Leonardo Dicaprio,” I responded.  

I can’t remember why we called each other names on the basketball court at P.E. or stopped being friends, but I do remember singing “Killing Me Softly” by The Fugees in drama class before everything fell to pieces, while we sat in the entrance to the theater, on that cold floor, in Airwalks, plaid skirts and baby tees, in the land before time, as pre-teens, when we had grown up on backyard birthday parties, swimming pools, and jelly shoes, just before we all grew up, and I left.

I know it’s nearing the end of October, and the only horror-esque post I wrote this year had to do with Rob Zombie and carnies, and, if you include my review on Where the Wild Things Are, I guess. So, I’ve compiled a playlist of songs that put me in the Halloween mood. I call it:

1. Mr. Sandman – The Chordettes
2. Zombie – The Cranberries
3. Hells Bells – AC/DC
4. Little Red Riding Hood – The Animals
5. Don’t Fear the Reaper  - Blue Oyster Cult
6. Bullet With Butterfly Wings – Smashing Pumpkins
7. The Killing Moon – Echo & The Bunnyman
8. Ghostbusters Theme – Ray Parker, Jr. 
9. Running With the Devil – Van Halen
10. Thriller – Michael Jackson
11. White Rabbit – Jefferson Airplane
12. Love Hurts – Nazareth
13. Bang, Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) – Nancy Sinatra