An open letter to filmmakers

Dear aspiring filmmakers,

If you want me to see your new movie at the multiplex, then follow these three steps:

1. Make a film that garners the enthusiastic acclaim of a vast majority of critics

2. Shut up

3. Take my money

Getting Wes Anderson involved in your project doesn't hurt either. Even if he is just a producer. He doesn't have to write it or direct it. I'll still see it on opening weekend.

Unless Noah Baumbach is also involved.

Of all the times Nano and I have gone on dates, two of those times have been screenings of Mr. Baumbach's work -- complete with stadium seating, a bucket of popcorn, and a 35 mm movie projector whirring behind us. These dates have not been my favorites.

I am writing this letter regarding the time Nano and I saw The Squid and the Whale – written and directed by Mr. Baumbach and produced by Mr. Anderson. The movie is about two boys dealing with their parents' divorce in the 1980s in Brooklyn. It turns out that such a story does not for a good date make. You see, part of the fun of young love is not a vision of how it can fall apart. Other terrible date movies involve prison camps, war, and Michael Bay. I know that The Squid and the Whale had nothing to do with the latter three, but it makes up for it with a divorce full of awkwardness, bitterness, and despair.

There's more to making a great movie than staging a memorable scene. Still, if I were a filmmaker, I would dream of making something unforgettable. What I remember most about The Squid and the Whale is the part when the older son wants to take a girl on a date -- to the movies to see Short Circuit. He mentions his plan to his father, who responds "Blue Velvet is supposed to be quite interesting." So the son, the father, and girl see David Lynch's surreal masterpiece Blue Velvet -- another terrible movie choice for a date. Watching this scene play out, I realized that Nano and I were on a similarly absurd date. It was as though the movie was making fun of us.

Aspiring filmmakers, it is not my intention to stifle your creativity or to suggest that your artistic vision is out of focus. Especially with regard to your work, Mr. Baumbach. Furthermore, I do not mean to imply that movie critics should withhold praise from extraordinary cinematic achievements unless such triumphs can be enjoyed within the context of a good date.

I want you to know that making a great date movie is a worthwhile pursuit. There's so much beauty in the world. Why not put in on film? But even when you turn your camera to the ugliness of life, at least try to be "quite interesting." If you succeed, then I'll probably get my attention.

I am pleased that Nano is still interested in me, in spite of my lackluster dating record. To me, it’s better than anything Wes Anderson has ever done.

Thank you for your time. Keep up the good work.

Your pal,

Uno

Topic #2 - Getting Engaged

There are a few critical moments in life people tend to file away in the Permanent Polaroid Album of their mind.  Getting engaged is often one of them, whether the story of how it came to pass is funny, dramatic, complicated or casual.  I’ve known I wanted to marry Uno for quite a while, and it was something we’d talked about often.  I absolutely adore surprises, something Uno knows well, but I also adore making life-defining decisions by engaging in thoughtful, compassionate conversation with my intended.  I’m a control-freak with a spontaneous streak.  In this particular situation, I believe I got the best of both worlds.

            When talking to Uno about getting engaged, he often asked me what kind of proposal I wanted.  The only genuine request I remember making is that the proposal come from the heart.  Usually, I just teased him about trying to get me to plan the proposal for him.  I got a taste of my own medicine when Uno started threatening to propose while I was brushing my teeth so he could catch me at my most natural.  This is all to say that I was expecting a proposal, but I had no idea when or how it would happen.

            August 4, 2013 was an incredible day.  It was a Sunday.  I had been working most of the previous day and was really looking forward to spending some time with Uno.  A few days beforehand, we had made plans to go hiking at Natural Bridge State Park.  We crossed our fingers and hoped for good weather and we weren’t disappointed.  75 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, light breeze.  A day that inspires poetry and country songs about dirt roads and feet on dashboards.  After packing our daypacks, we drove to the state park and set off.  We spent the first few hours of the day climbing up to the bridge and exploring the landmark itself.  I had never been there before (though I had been wanting to go since I moved to the area) and I was relishing the opportunity to get some dirt on my hiking boots and sun on my face.  We wandered, took pictures, and enjoyed the spectacular view from the top of the Natural Bridge.  The trail to the bridge carries on past the actual bridge, along the edge of a cliff line.  After sitting at the bridge for a bit, I asked Uno if he was ready to press on.  He said he wanted to stay a while.  I didn’t think much of his response at first.  I wanted to soak in the day as well.  But when I asked again a few minutes later, he said he still wanted to linger.  I wondered what he was waiting for.  But soon enough, we did indeed press on, and after walking along the cliffs for another mile or so, we came to another scenic overlook, ever-so-appropriately named “Lover’s Leap.”

            At Lover’s Leap, we shared a picnic of peanut butter sandwiches, fruit, nuts and baby carrots.  We dangled our legs over the cliff’s edge.  We talked about school and work, movies we wanted to see and trips we wanted to take.  We tried to see who could throw their orange peel farthest.  We laughed.  We lost all track of time.  When I finally asked if it was time to hike back down the mountain, Uno said there was something he wanted to talk to me about first.  I immediately wondered if there was a reason besides the pleasure of my company that he had been lollygagging all day.  He reached for my hand and tied a white cloth ribbon around my wrist.  He told me he loved me and that he never wanted to be apart.  He spoke from the heart.  He asked me to be his wife.  And so, on a Sunday in August, surrounded by the absolute glory of God’s wilderness creation, without hesitation, I flung myself off of “Lover’s Leap” and said Yes.   He told me I could untie the ribbon on my wrist, and when I did, I discovered the incredible ring he had picked out for me, all on his own.  Everything about the moment was exactly right.  Uno will probably say that he didn’t plan it at all.  That he just went for it when the Spirit moved him.  While I’m unconvinced that that day happened purely on a whim, I am absolutely sure that very little in my life has felt so spectacularly natural. 

            From the proposal spot, we video-chatted with my family and made a video to send to his.  Sharing a bit of that moment with our loved ones made it even more special.  We hiked down the mountain grinning from ear to ear, holding hands even though the trail was often narrow and clearly not made to accommodate side-by-side walking.  It was a moment I will treasure for the rest of my life, and now I can't help but be reminded of how blessed I am to have walked out of a State Park with not only the best rock, but the best man in the whole place.  

Lovebirds at Lover's Leap