More Silver Screen -- But No Lists This Time
Yesterday's post and my current search to replace my old TV (whom I am tempted to name Moby both because it's ginormous and because I have an unhealthy complex about naming inanimate objects) have gotten me thinking about the whole video media thing.
When I moved five months ago, I decided I wasn't going to get cable in my new place. There were a couple of reasons ... For one thing, it's too stinking expensive, especially since there's not necessarily anything besides "Law & Order" on at any given time. And while I am occasionally in the mood for "L&O," it's not a 24-hour addiction with me.
Also, it seemed silly to spend the money to watch hours of TV on my particular set -- a 25-year-old, 21-inch wood-paneled piece of almost-modern art that magically fits perfectly in the cheap-as-free entertainment center I acquired from an old housemate. The picture flickers, the color sporadically disappears, and the sound sometimes freaks out.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I love movies. Love them. I lose myself in good and bad movies. I analyze scenery, camera angles, lighting, and soundtrack choices. (I blame Aaron for that.) Plot lines, characters, and actors stick in my head in an unhealthy fashion. [Faces, names, and phone numbers -- my memory has a creepy stalker vibe to it.] I am eternally grateful to Aaron and Eric for introducing me to the movie game, where you list actors and movies in a continuous string (actor-movie-actor-movie-etc.) until you get stuck. It kept me entertained for nearly an hour when I was stuck in O'Hare on my trip back from Colorado Springs.
My hiatus from television only served to feed my love for movies. Aside from my pile of books, I get my entertainment from movies. Living alone can be very, very quiet, and I like noise. Playing a movie while I clean? Very comforting.
Now, when I finished college, I had exactly twelve movies (which I won't list because that would make this a 12Things post). Most of them I had from early in my college career but I refused to expand the collection because I needed that money for other things. Like food. And tuition.
However, those movies got old rather quickly right after I moved to Wisconsin, when I was spending a lot more time by myself. I had cable, but even then you only got to see the truncated versions of movies cut up by ads for cars, fast food, and life insurance. I started to slowly add to the collection.
Then, I moved to my fabulous old house-apartment.
My collection -- while still small in comparison to lots of people -- has grown an almost embarrassing amount since March. I can't walk past a $5 sale shelf without browsing. I can't pass up the buy-2-get-1 sale at B&N every couple of months. This last time I was in Sioux Falls, I hit Last Stop CD Shop and the neighboring pawn shop hard. Blockbusters, new releases, random obscure films that no one's ever heard of -- almost anything goes, as long as I can find it for $10 or less and I think it looks good.
Redbox doesn't help. I've seen more new releases in recent history because of the majesty of $1-a-night, through-a-big-automated-touchscreen Redbox. I recommend finding one near you, o cinephiles.
But now it's time I stop treating the movies I love like third-class members of this household. It's time to retire poor Moby. I've started shopping. Now all I can think as I'm staring at a screen in Best Buy is, "Hmm. But how will 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' look on this?"
The answer? Usually "Bright, shiny, and completely psychedelic!"
When I moved five months ago, I decided I wasn't going to get cable in my new place. There were a couple of reasons ... For one thing, it's too stinking expensive, especially since there's not necessarily anything besides "Law & Order" on at any given time. And while I am occasionally in the mood for "L&O," it's not a 24-hour addiction with me.
Also, it seemed silly to spend the money to watch hours of TV on my particular set -- a 25-year-old, 21-inch wood-paneled piece of almost-modern art that magically fits perfectly in the cheap-as-free entertainment center I acquired from an old housemate. The picture flickers, the color sporadically disappears, and the sound sometimes freaks out.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I love movies. Love them. I lose myself in good and bad movies. I analyze scenery, camera angles, lighting, and soundtrack choices. (I blame Aaron for that.) Plot lines, characters, and actors stick in my head in an unhealthy fashion. [Faces, names, and phone numbers -- my memory has a creepy stalker vibe to it.] I am eternally grateful to Aaron and Eric for introducing me to the movie game, where you list actors and movies in a continuous string (actor-movie-actor-movie-etc.) until you get stuck. It kept me entertained for nearly an hour when I was stuck in O'Hare on my trip back from Colorado Springs.
My hiatus from television only served to feed my love for movies. Aside from my pile of books, I get my entertainment from movies. Living alone can be very, very quiet, and I like noise. Playing a movie while I clean? Very comforting.
Now, when I finished college, I had exactly twelve movies (which I won't list because that would make this a 12Things post). Most of them I had from early in my college career but I refused to expand the collection because I needed that money for other things. Like food. And tuition.
However, those movies got old rather quickly right after I moved to Wisconsin, when I was spending a lot more time by myself. I had cable, but even then you only got to see the truncated versions of movies cut up by ads for cars, fast food, and life insurance. I started to slowly add to the collection.
Then, I moved to my fabulous old house-apartment.
My collection -- while still small in comparison to lots of people -- has grown an almost embarrassing amount since March. I can't walk past a $5 sale shelf without browsing. I can't pass up the buy-2-get-1 sale at B&N every couple of months. This last time I was in Sioux Falls, I hit Last Stop CD Shop and the neighboring pawn shop hard. Blockbusters, new releases, random obscure films that no one's ever heard of -- almost anything goes, as long as I can find it for $10 or less and I think it looks good.
Redbox doesn't help. I've seen more new releases in recent history because of the majesty of $1-a-night, through-a-big-automated-touchscreen Redbox. I recommend finding one near you, o cinephiles.
But now it's time I stop treating the movies I love like third-class members of this household. It's time to retire poor Moby. I've started shopping. Now all I can think as I'm staring at a screen in Best Buy is, "Hmm. But how will 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' look on this?"
The answer? Usually "Bright, shiny, and completely psychedelic!"
Comments