I was snuggled in bed under the piles of comforters with my professor last night looking at the calendar trying to sort out my schedule for Sundance. Of course this is perhaps the most romantic thing anyone can possibly do, right? Snuggle in bed with an electronic device that vibrates and makes noise and flashes all kinds of bright lights if you push just the right buttons and with your sweet loved one's head resting there, just there on your left breast, you sort out the screening schedule for a festival.
THAT IS ROMANCE IN ALL CAPS. Trust me.
What became even more romantic, however, was when I switched over to the finance pages to find out, because I am me, if I could actually invest in BEETS. I swear my heart started beating faster and I actually got a little bit bothered by the notion that I might be able to do this.
Turns out that you can, in fact, invest in beets. If you're so inclined. These are not the beets you're looking for. That part, though, makes me really kind of sad. More concerning is that Cargill is involved. I'll leave that story for another day, but ugh. Cargill.
Bothered by the beets, I then decided that we'd all be better off if we could invest in Marijuana. Because, you know, it's now legal in some parts of this country and why not be a real and true transparent evangelist and go ahead and INVEST in what will ultimately perhaps save this pretty blue planet?
Turns out, you CAN invest in marijuana, too. It might not be such a bad thing. Getting in right now seems to be pretty cheap. Round out your retirement portfolio with a little something that is truly green? Why not?
I don't just throw the money that I do not really have at these things, though. I have to do due dilegence. Of course, then, I say to my professor, who is quite wise and perhaps one of the smartest men that I know, that it is my understanding that the Obama Administration has been targeting Medical Marijuana patients at an alarming rate, far more than any previous president. I also said to him, though, that what I wanted was some empirical evidence about all of this. So I went looking.
That was how I found this film, Code of the West. It is not the empirical evidence I was looking to find by any means, obviously. It is just a documentary film. I just happen to eat documentary films for breakfast.
It is also how I found out about DOC NYC. That, my friends, was when the choir of heavenly angels sang and the big orgasm hit. The electronic device had delivered.
There are a multitude of film festivals in this world. There's even the Nakedjen Film Festival. The DOC NYC film festival just happens to be one, though, that makes a girl like me, the girl who loves a truly good story, the girl who loves the filmmakers who are willing to tell their truth, the girl who always wants more excellent documentaries in this world, clap her hands furiously and, well, yes, orgasm.
I am not missing that festival. You can count on that. I will be there with all my glitter and bells and clapping furiously this year. That much, I know. I don't plan my life very much, but that festival is now on my calendar. In sharpie.
Full circle while snuggled under the covers with the professor. You just never know what you might discover when you go digging for a beet.
