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Everyone’s got their own list of top movies – top grossing, top comedies, etc. This is my list, and it’s based on the movies I saw that were released this year. I like them all for different reasons, so there’s really no way to quantify which one is the “best” movie I saw this year. Anyway, here’s my list of the top 10 movies I saw in 2009.

Fanboys If you’re not a Star Wars fan, you probably won’t enjoy this move at all – it’s chock-full of references and homages, mostly having to do with the original trilogy (Episodes IV-VI). If you ARE a Star Wars fan, the only reason for you not to have seen this film is that you’ve been frozen in carbonite for the last 12 months. Go see it now. Really.

I love you, man “You slappa da base, mon?” A great film about best friends and how important it can be to know there’s someone there that’s always got your back and is genuinely interested in your well-being, even when it looks completely the opposite. Rush fans will enjoy this film more than most other folks, as the band features VERY prominently throughout.

The Soloist Sometimes we want to help people that we perceive to be less fortunate, or people that we think have problems. Sometimes these people we judge are perfectly ok and don’t need or want our help. And sometimes, the only thing these people who we judge to be less than ourselves need or want is the simple comfort of knowing they have a friend, someone that cares about them. This film showed me all of these things in brilliant form.

Up With the subtleness of script and deft storytelling that has become their hallmark, Disney and Pixar share a story that just about anyone can relate to from wherever they are and regardless of age, making this a film that any family can watch and enjoy together. It’s truly one of the best accomplishments of the Disney/Pixar partnership.

The Hangover No other film has been as relentlessly funny in so many different ways and compelled me to laugh hysterically from beginning to end. It’s inappropriate as hell, but that’s part of the humor. Make no mistake, The hangover doesn’t use school-boy humor as a crutch to support itself, although it’s prevalent throughout. This film is absolutely, unashamedly, disgustingly, offensively funny.

My Sister’s Keeper I never read the book, so I can’t comment on how accurate this film is to the source material. What I can tell you is that it’s a brilliantly told story of a sister’s love. Bring a box of tissues. Yes, the whole box.

The Hurt Locker I’ve never understood the military mindset and what really drives a soldier, in particular, the need/desire to go on tour after tour in a theater of war. I may never fully grasp what motivates someone to consciously and deliberately put themselves in harms way (sometimes a bit too recklessly), but after watching this film I have a new appreciation for the men and women in uniform and the prices they truly pay for our freedoms beyond simply serving and fighting.

District 9 As much a parable and social commentary on apartheid (and discrimination in general) as it is a sci-fi flick, there is an unflinching brutality and accessibility to this film that easily placed it within my top 10.

Inglorious Basterds Tarantino at his Tarantino-est, Inglorious Basterds bears all the marks of a classic work from this brilliant filmmaker – the dialogue, the sight gags, the extremely graphic (but not gratuitous) violence, the unpredictability and unforeseen demise of key characters, and most of all, the absolutely phenomenal story-telling. If you enjoy Tarantino, this film is a must-see (although you probably already have). If you’re not a fan, this one certainly won’t change your mind.

Where the Wild Things Are In both the real-world and wild-world (are they really any different?) sequences of this film I found myself revisiting my own childhood and the thoughts, emotions, and imagination that made it such a magical time of life. More than just a re-telling of the original story and a faithful recreation of the art and characters, this film is an indispensible companion to the book.

A few months back, Megan came home after shopping with some new drawers (pronounced: draws) she’d bought for me. They were 100% white cotton boxer-briefs. I kinda dig this hybrid design because I look like a dork in tighty-whiteys (I mean, really, who doesn’t?! Come to think of it, I pretty much look like a dork most of the time…) and boxers seem a little too “loose” for me – I like to know that everything is secure and as it should be at all times, and I just don’t get that feeling with boxers. So anyway, Megan brings these new drawers home for me and I fall in love with them – they’re comfortably tailored, fitting just as they should, and the waistband is covered by a soft additional layer of cotton so there’s no elastic digging into my skin – they’re nice drawers.

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago. Megan and I were out shopping and I started looking for some more of these wonderful drawers. After scouring the Men’s Drawers section of the local Wal-frickin’ I came up empty handed. Yes, I buy my drawers at Wal-Mart. Get over it. I found the same brand and style, but couldn’t find the covered waistband which is my favorite part. Megan came to my rescue and found them in a different brand with the covered waistband. I thought all was well, we finished our shopping and went home.

The first time I tried on a pair of these new drawers, I was just as impressed with this new brand as I had been with the Megan’s previous purchase. They fit right, were comfortable and soft, and of course, they had the covered waistband. Bliss.

Until I had to pee.

As I unzipped the fly of my jeans, I struggled to locate the corresponding fly in my new drawers. WTF? Had I just put them on inside-out or something? After a few seconds of frustration (and still needing to pee), I undid my belt and found that my new drawers didn’t have a fly! Now I don’t know whose genius idea this was to NOT put a fly in a pair of men’s drawers, but it sucks. The whole purpose of Men’s Drawers is to HAVE A FLY! Seriously…

Now I’m just irritated at my new drawers, even though they’re comfy.

That picture right there? Yeah, that’s not me. I’m older, fatter, and paler than that dude, but other than that, it could be me. Just notice that there’s no effing fly on those drawers, though. These are the ones I’m talking about!

Dammit. One more thing that just doesn’t work the way it should.

I really wanna know which of the Karma Gods I’ve pissed off so I can make an offering and set things straight.

So if you’ve followed this blog for any significant amount of time, you’ve probably figured out that I like food. A lot. As it turns out, it may be a lot more than even I thought.

I woke up early Sunday morning to an empty bed. I got out from underneath the sleepy warmth of the comforter and started wandering through the house looking for my sweetheart. I didn’t have to look far, she was snuggled under a blanket in the front room tapping on her Mac (probably shopping) and struggling to keep her sleep-heavy eyelids open.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” I asked groggily.

“Shopping” she confirmed.

“Why don’t you come back to bed and snuggle?” I asked.

She looked up at me, all signs of sleepiness gone. “Seriously?” she asked, with a frustration-tinged voice.

“umm, yeah?” I responded, half questioning my own answer and not having a clue as to the source of her frustration.

“I don’t know WHAT the hell you were dreaming about, but all night long you were “OM NOM NOM NOM NOM” and it was LOUD! And even when I’d shove you or elbow you to wake you up, you’d just go “what?!”, then roll over and go back to “OM NOM NOM NOM!” all night long!” she said in that tired and frustrated voice that only happens after a sleepless night that could have been prevented.

So apparently I dream about food, too. Loudly.

Or maybe I just like to talk so much I gotta do it 24/7.

It really could be either one.

I’m just gonna let you know right up front that this post may be a little mopey. It’s not that I’m in a “woe is me” kinda mindset, so much as I’ve just been doing some deep personal reflection, and I’m probably still in the middle of it, but it’s kinda put me in a melancholy space. Nothing to worry about, the pendulum is just reaching the other apex right now.

I’ve done lot’s of things in my life that I’ve been pretty good at, but I don’t feel I’ve ever done anything that I was truly exceptional at. It’s not that I expect to be naturally proficient at something. I’m totally OK working for it, and I’ve learned and taught myself all kinds of different things simply because it’s something I really was interested in or passionate about.

For example, when I went to work for The Ritz-Carlton in their central Reservations center, I’d never worked on a phone before and had only heard stories of how amazing The Ritz-Carlton experience was. I worked hard to be one of those legendary individuals that goes so over-the-top with customer service that the customer can’t help but tell everyone they know all about the experience. Being that person required me to know everything there was to know about 40 hotels and resorts worldwide, and to develop a rapport with each hotels on-site reservations team, and many times the concierge as well. Having a relationship with the on-site team made my job easier and opened up all kinds of possibilities.

I remember one time in particular, just as I was finishing a reservation for a second-honeymoon, having upgraded the room at no charge, scheduled a limo to meet the client at the airport and making sure the hotel staff knew the nature of her stay and how important this occasion was to her, I asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She replied in a light-hearted half-sarcastic/teasing way “oh, I don’t know, maybe a box of Godiva chocolates waiting on the bed!”

“It’s my pleasure” was my sincere (and Ritz-Carlton standard) reply.

A few weeks later my manager received a letter from this customer with a photo of the Godiva chocolates on the bed, and this wasn’t just the little “two-truffle” box – my contact at the hotel had gone above and beyond, and had chosen a medium-sized box of assorted chocolates that kept the client happy all during her stay.

I really liked being good at something, and having it appreciated. But when I was promoted, something changed. I lost focus or something, but I wasn’t nearly as good at supervising as I had been at exceeding customer expectations. I had several glaring short-comings in my new position, and I left the company not long after I was promoted.

When I went to work for UPS, I really thought I may have found my calling. Using the communication skills I had learned at The Ritz-Carlton, I excelled and advanced very quickly. Just two months into my employment I was promoted to a position as an assistant to the supervisor, answering general questions from the customer service agents on the floor, handling escalated calls from upset customers, and working with the agents and coaching them to improve their stats, etc. I loved it, and as it turns out, I was REALLY good at it.

My favorite part of the job was taking the escalated calls from angry customers. I just seemed to have a knack for explaining things to them very directly and in such a way that (even though I hadn’t told them anything different than the agent, and they still weren’t getting their package) they actually calmed down and thanked me before hanging up. In fact, before long, there were other Assistants passing calls off to me, customers that they had found too difficult to handle.

Management noticed my proficiency in working with customers, as well as the way I supported the agents in maximizing their results, and I was promoted again, this time into management. However, just like at the Ritz, I was suddenly in a much bigger pond and I wasn’t nearly as sure of myself. To save all the gory details, I struggled for two years in that position before finding a tenuous balance that allowed me to maintain my employment and performance at a reasonable level for another year.

And then I was done. I left UPS not because I was unhappy (although I was) or because of some specific incident or occurrence, but simply because I knew I didn’t belong there anymore.

I thought I’d be a good branding expert, having a long history of commercial art projects from family and friends designing catchy logos, business cards and letterhead. I started a branding firm, and struggled with being a small business owner for 5 years before I decided that I just didn’t have the inclination or skill to be a business owner.

Fast-forward to about a year ago.

Megan tells me that she wants to be the Executive Director at the Great Life Foundation. She throws her hat in the ring, and although the interview/hiring process was long and usually pretty taxing emotionally, she gets the job. She’s AMAZING at it. She makes good money, she knows just what to do any time an issue presents itself (which is pretty regularly), and as nearly as I can tell, she really loves it.

THAT’S what I want. I want to be GOOD at something. I want to make good money doing something I believe in, something I’m passionate about, and something I love. I just don’t know what that is.

I mean, looking at my skills, they’re actually pretty meager, and not in a “oh I suck” kind of way, either. Realistically, I never graduated college, I barely graduated high school, and although I have  a head full of only-occasionally-useful trivia and I’m pretty good at problem-solving and figuring things out, I have no real “skills” and I can’t for the life of me figure out what I’m passionate about that would potentially bring in a paycheck and support my family. I mean, if I could find a way to get paid for being a likable guy I’d be set for life!

Like a friend said yesterday, “I just want to be somebody good…”

Before I begin, know that this is a true account of my personal experience and a recounting of what had been told to me directly by Master Jason Moore. To the best of my knowledge I have not embellished or misrepresented anything that follows.

In the spring of 2005 I was asked to speak at a business networking function on the topic of branding and marketing. During my presentation I noticed a man sitting in the front row eagerly listening to everything I said. After the meeting he approached me and introduced himself as Jason Moore. He thanked me for sharing and said that he’d learned some valuable things throughout the course of the meeting, and asked if I’d be willing to meet with him and his wife and further discuss their small business, as well as give feedback on some of their planned directions in marketing. I told him I’d be happy to share an hour of my time if he was wiling to buy me lunch.

That’s how I found myself seated across from Jason and Shell just a few days later at the Soup Kitchen discussing how to market a martial arts studio whose Grand Master (Jason) was completely blind.

You see, Jason was diagnosed at a fairly young age with a genetic disease that degenerates the occipital lobe of the brain and causes the optic nerve to atrophy. Jason had his sight (limited as it may have been) all through his adolescence and teenage years, and then one day it was gone. Several months before he lost his sight, Jason started taking instruction from Supreme Grand Master General Byung Sung Choi in the Korean martial art of Hwa Rang Kwan. When he lost his sight, he went in to Master Choi and told him he would no longer be able to attend class because he was now blind. Master Choi simply responded “Get in line with the rest of the students!”, which Jason did.

Over the next several years under the instruction and tutelage of Master Choi, Jason learned that his lack of sight was not only NOT a handicap, but could actually a benefit. He learned to “see” the things that the rest of us are unwilling to see because we use our sight as a crutch. Jason advanced to the rank of Grand Master in his art, and has been an instructor for many years now with a loyal following of students.

I have had many experiences with Master Jason that fascinate and amaze me. You see, when I first met him I had no idea he was blind until he mentioned it to me. He can easily navigate a room full of people, and is quite at home walking outside without the use of the trademark red-tipped cane that many blind people use as a guide. Master Jason has always greeted me by name whenever I approach, even if I have said nothing. This is most surprising in large groups. On many occasions I’ve approached a conversation that he’s been engaged in without ever saying a word. Some of these instances I haven’t even been especially close to him. And yet, he always knows when I am there, and greets me with a “what do you think, J?” or a simple “glad you could join us, J!”

Once, when I questioned Master Jason as to HOW he does what he does, he asked me if I would like to experience it. I wasn’t certain what he meant, but was intrigued enough to play along. We entered the dojo and he grabbed a blindfold and a bamboo training sword. He blindfolded me, and then stood directly behind me. He told me that he had the sword raised over his head and would bring it quickly down on the top of my head, as if to cut me in two from top to bottom. My job was simply to step out of the way when I felt this was about to happen. If I stepped too soon, he would be able to re-adjust his strike and hit me. If I moved too late, I would get hit on the head rather sharply with the bamboo sword.

“Relax” he told me.

“Just let go of everything your mind is telling you right now, and allow yourself to feel the energy surrounding you and me” he said, “When you can feel my intention to strike you, step away”

I stood there, acutely aware of the hyperactive conversation of my mind going berserk as I let go of any attachment and importance it may have had, enjoying the quiet serenity that enveloped me as the mind-chatter faded away. I felt something behind me, as if I were being pushed. I stepped forward and slightly to my left.

CRACK!

As I had stepped forward, the bamboo sword whistled along my side and hit the floor sharply. Had I not moved precisely when I did I would have been hurting for sure!

“Very good!” spoke Master Jason from behind me. “Again!”

I stepped back to my original spot, the excited chatter in my mind now coming at a blistering pace. I had to concentrate on forcibly pushing the conversation away from me so I could relax. In my efforts to silence my brain, I decided that I felt something and stepped forward.

THWACK!

MOTHER….! That HURT! I had stepped too early and Master Jason had adjusted his attack and caught me right on my collarbone. Damn, that hurt!

“Again!” barked Master Jason.

I stepped back to my original spot, still smarting from the blow I had just received. If my mind had been berserking out of control before, it was really excited now! Now there was evidence to add to the chatter, the dull throbbing in my collarbone supporting the conversation in my mind that I was retarded to be standing blindfolded in front of a man with a sword. I pushed the conversation and chatter away, clearly and consciously choosing to be relaxed and to feel.

This time I felt the ever so gentle feather-touch of a push behind me. I stepped forward just as the sword rushed past my back and struck the floor with a loud CRACK!

“Very good. Again!” Master Jason ordered.

We continued the exercise for several minutes. I was struck two more times, once on the top of the head when I failed to move at all, and once on the shoulder just as I’d started to move away. But I stepped at precisely the right moment several times, easily avoiding the painful strike of the bamboo sword.

“You see,” Master Jason explained “although I miss my sight sometimes, your eyes have become a handicap for you. When you are willing to believe what you feel rather than what you think you know, the world is full of possibility”

I studied with Master Jason briefly, going through several other equally fascinating blindfolded activities with equally profound learning and results.

Among the most precious lessons I learned from Master Jason was that miracles are within each of us, we have only to choose to manifest them. I know this, because I know a blind man that sees more in his blindness than the rest of us do with our eyes.