I’ve never understood why people assume that going to the movies is a social event.

Cinema-going is not a task that can be done effectively with others. Far from it. Going to watch a film (especially a good one) is an activity best pursued alone and independently.

Call me a film snob if you must, but watching a movie at the cinema does not involve what most people would call social activities. Cinéastes usually frown upon loud discussion and boisterous movement during the film, limiting most types of social interaction.

Conversation and discussion is of course necessary, but usually best-placed after watching the movie and not during the film itself. The initial appraisal of the film is a solitary effort — the extended appreciation of it comes from post-film exchange.

Going to the movies is neither “totally awesome and confidently badass” nor “sad and pathetic.” It is, in essence, the best way to appreciate the craft on the screen.

Yesterday, as I was sitting by the waterfront in Toronto, getting some work done with my Macbook Pro and sipping on a lemonade, three kids started running around throwing water balloons at each other.

Cute.

Until one of the water balloons hit my computer and exploded, also tipping over the lemonade on my table which subsequently seeped into the cracks of my computer. My screen went blank and I couldn’t turn the MBP back on.

Horror.

I ran to the Apple Store, and while they couldn’t do anything in-store, they shipped my MBP to Apple for me and gave me a loaner to use in the meantime. I regularly back up my data, so I’ve only lost about two days worth of work (not bad!) so I’m not stressing too much. I’m just worried about my poor little MBP and what is going to become of it.

Sob.

If I’m a little mopey and sad over the next few days, it’s because I lost my MBP: my best friend and favorite coworker. I’ll get over it soon enough. Most likely when I get her back.

Have you ever wondered what you would have looked like if you were born a few decades earlier?

Yeah, me neither. Until I found YearbookYourself.com via Kottke.

If you were ever wondering what I would have looked like if I were in high school in 1952, 1974, 1980, or 1982 (the year I was born), here’s your answer:

It isn’t easy being ticklish.

In fact, being tickled too much is often akin to torture. The only problem is that the person tickling you doesn’t realize how much pain and agony you’re in because instead of screaming and wincing, you’re laughing and rolling around on the floor in the fetal position.

I am and always have been ticklish. Very ticklish.

I often start clenching my muscles and giggling just at the thought of being tickled. People don’t think twice about tickling me; if they want to tickle me, they will, no matter what I say.

I found a quote by Demetri Martin that explains this phenomenon perfectly:

If somebody asks you the question, “are you ticklish?” it doesn’t matter what you say. They are going to touch you. If they say “are you ticklish?” and you don’t want to be touched, you have to say something like “I have diarrhea. And yes….I’m ticklish.”

Tickling is cruel and unusual torture. Most of the time. (I’ll admit that there are, ahem, moments when a good tickle is appreciated.)

Is there some kind of support group for extremely ticklish people who live their life in fear of errant fingers?

So after some waffling and some soul-searching, I’ve decided that allowing comments on this blog is a good idea. I’m going to keep them open from now on.

That was the easy decision. Now I’m contemplating using a service like Disqus to power the comments here on this site.

The new update to Disqus allows two-way integration into Wordpress with a simple plugin, and gives more power to both readers and blog adminstrators to manage their comments.

I’ve heard good things about Disqus before, but I’ve been wary of moving to a service where I didn’t have full control over the comments that were posted to my blog. Now that Disqus allows seamless integration, it’s looking more and more appealing.

So what do you think?

Should I be using a system like Disqus? Would that bring more benefits to you, my readers? After all, in the end, it’s all about what works best for you.

Discuss.

Growing up, Fred Rogers was my best friend.

I wasn’t the biggest fan of television back when I was growing up in Queens (mostly because we didn’t own one for most of my childhood there) but whenever I did get the chance to watch TV, the show I undoubtedly wanted to watch was Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

Fred Rogers taught me much more than just how to button up my cardigan. He was the perfect example of a courteous, polite, and cultured member of the community. He was an excellent role model for any child growing up, and I’m glad he was part of my childhood.

I didn’t say much about the man when he passed away five years ago, but Mister Rogers has kept inspiring all of us — not just children, but adults as well — since the first moment we first saw him on the screen until now, years after his death.

I recently found this video on Youtube and had to share it all with you.

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Sometimes, we may forget that, but I’m glad that I had someone in my life like Fred Rogers to remind me.

I feel as though I should have something deep and stirring to say about the death of Isaac Hayes. After all, his theme to Shaft remains one of my favorite movie scores of all time, and Black Moses has a regular spot on my “must-listen albums” playlist.

But I never knew Isaac Hayes. I never shared a moment with him like I did with Heath Ledger. I have no interesting stories or anecdotes to share that haven’t already been told.

What I do have is the memory of watching Shaft at the age of 12 and singing the theme song at school and having all my friends look at me in confusion. What I do have is the Black Moses album playing while I sit here and have lunch in my apartment. What I can share is this short video that commemorates the passing of a very talented, soulful man.

You see, this cat Hayes is a bad mother—
Shut your mouth!
But I’m talkin’ about Isaac Hayes.

As a die-hard lifelong New York Jets fan, it’s no surprise that the recent trade of Brett Favre to the Jets was some of the best news I’ve had in years. Not only will Favre, one of the greatest quarterbacks to play the game of football, help bolster the image of the green and white, but will also give the Jets a realistic chance to make it to (and succeed in) the playoffs this season.

What’s being lost in the whole kerfuffle is that the Jets have now released former quarterback Chad Pennington.

Let’s be honest. I’m more than just a fan of The Chad: he’s also one of my heroes.

Sure Pennington owns the highest career and single-season passer ratings in Jets history. That’s great. But numbers can’t adequately describe the impact that the veteran quarterback has had on my favorite pro sports team.

In an age where sports is more business than play and athletes are more concerned about fattening their paychecks than playing hard, Chad Pennington stands out as a football player that plays with heart. Through the injuries, the slumps, and the unending criticism by some of the most vicious media (it’s hard to play in New York, in any sport) in the world, Chad has shown nothing but resilience, dedication, sportsmanship, and the desire to do the best that he can do.

Say what you want about his physical limitations (and there were many). Pennington was able to overcome those limitations because of his willingness to play as a team, because of his drive to make everyone else around him a better player, and most of all, because of his astute knowledge of the sport of football.

I’m glad that we have Brett Favre on the Jets, and I truly believe that the green and white will be hoisting the Lombardi Trophy this season under Favre’s leadership. I am sad however that Chad Pennington, one of the greatest team players the Jets have ever had, won’t be there to enjoy the spoils of the work he’s been putting in, year after year, to make all of us in the Jets nation proud.

I’m going to take a page out of Fireman Ed’s book here and give it up to one of my favorite Jets — heck, favorite football players — to ever step on the field:

C! H! A! D! Chad! Chad! Chad!

Last week, everyone’s favorite social bookmarking service Delicious, redesigned their site and re-branded themselves, dropping a few full-stops in the process.

While I really like the new look and appreciate the new approach Yahoo! is taking for its social bookmarking service, I have to ask the question:

Is bookmarking relevant anymore?

Let’s face it: when most of us are looking for information, we usually search for it, or ask someone we know might have access to that information. Managing a collection of bookmarks — whether in a messy browser system or on a tag-based social web system — is a tedious task and quickly becomes unwieldy.

Tools like Twitter, Google Reader, Tumblr, and Evernote all make bookmarking systems like Delicious obsolete. They offer easy access to collected information through searching, sharing, and questioning rather than a rigid system of taxonomic organization.

The new Firefox 3 Awesome Bar is going to do even more to kill bookmarking: instead of needing to remember URLs, users can simply remember what the page is about and type that into the address bar. The browser now “remembers” for the user. Brilliant.

I stopped using Delicious about sixteen months ago, finding the practice tiring and tedious. Was that a bad idea? Am I missing something here?

Do you still use a social bookmarking service? Has your use declined over the past months?

There are times in my life when people do things, say things, or make decisions that I don’t agree with, and I get a little upset.

I really shouldn’t, but it takes a lot of patience and maturity to respond to (mostly irrational) comments, actions, and decisions. Which is why I’m extremely impressed by the way that librarian Jamie Larue dealt with a recent library patron who challenged the inclusion of a book in the library because it dealt with gay marriage.

Instead of dismissing the patron, or even being taken aback by what seems (to me at least) a particularly ridiculous challenge, Larue wrote a letter that dealt directly with the patron’s issues. From his letter:

I think a lot of adults imagine that what defines a children’s book is the subject. But that’s not the case. Children’s books deal with anything and everything. There are children’s books about death (even suicide), adult alcoholism, family violence, and more. Even the most common fairy tales have their grim side: the father and stepmother of Hansel and Gretel, facing hunger and poverty, take the children into the woods, and abandon them to die! Little Red Riding Hood (in the original version, anyhow) was eaten by the wolf along with granny. There’s a fascinating book about this, by the bye, called “The Uses of Enchantment: the Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales,” by psychologist Bruno Bettelheim. His thesis is that both the purpose and power of children’s literature is to help young people begin to make sense of the world. There is a lot out there that is confusing, or faintly threatening, and even dangerous in the world. Stories help children name their fears, understand them, work out strategies for dealing with life.

Next time someone disagrees with me or challenges my decisions and actions, I’m going to definitely try and address that challenge with the grace, poise, and poesy that Jamie Larue demonstrated in his own response.

Do you have any other examples of this kind of poise in the face of challenge?