She’s Got Better Days Than Nights

    It is funny how meaning can be lost in translation. It is even more funny when a new meaning is imagined to replace it.

    I was around 9 years old, living in Santiago de Chile, when I first heard the song ‟She’s Got Bette Davis Eyes,” a great song by the American singer Kim Carnes. I did not speak English at the time, so I could not understand any of the lyrics.

    There is a certain beauty to listening to music without understanding the lyrics. It wraps the song in an aura of mystery, and one wonders what the artist is singing about that needs to be expressed with such music. My love for Classical music is in part because of this - pure music unadulterated by lyrics.

    As I grew up I learned and became fluent in English, and when I re-listened to the 80s songs I had grown up with I was disappointed that, basically, every song talks about wanting to get laid. Lame. That is when I turned to Pink Floyd, who sung about deep personal existential angst which matched my teenage mood.

    And yet, once understanding English, I still misunderstood certain songs, which takes us back to Kim Carnes. There was no way that I could have known that the words ‘Bette’ and ‘Davis’ existed, let alone that they were personal names. I also could not have known that Bette Davis was an actress from the black and white era, and an amazing one at that, I came to find out the day I sat to watch one of her many movies, ‟All About Eve,” from 1950. This movie, funny enough, and without me having known it, closely resembles the plot of my book VIVIANA, which you can read by clicking on the icon at the top of this blog site ;)

    Anyway, the title verse, ‟She’s got Bette Davis Eyes,” means that the abstract ‟She” in the song is as sexy as the actress of old. Yet in my limited English I understood it as being, ‟She’s got better days than night.”

    And the hilarious confusion only started there. Since the whole song praises the sensuality of the abstract ‟She,” I thought that ‟She” was a prostitute. Oops!

    It was a sad song for me really, because I imagined this woman dressing herself up and behaving sensually to attract clients. She spent the whole night whoring, I imagined, and it killed her inside. So when she was awake in the daytime, she was more calm because she was not prostituting herself. Hence, ‟She had better days than nights.”

    It is a funny confusion, but you can see how misinterpreting one sentence gave the entire text a different meaning. Anyhow, this is a great song, one I recently learned to play on the piano, and I invite you to listen to it gain with the misinterpreted verse in mind.

Search: Kim Carnes - Bette Davis Eyes.

I will add the link below and we’ll see how long it stays until it is taken down by copyright fiends.

PS: ‟She’s pure as New York snow.” Really? I lived in New York for over four winters, including one when there was a brutal snow storm that brought the city to a halt, and let me tell you one thing: ‟New York snow,” is only as pure as the night when it falls. The next day it is pilled along the side walks gray and brown with grime and dirt. Not pure at all, Kim, not pure at all.

My Days In The Roman Legion

  Three years ago I was very lucky. I providentially had the chance to participate in the filming of a TV series ( Britannia ) set in ancient Rome. This film, which takes place during the invasion of Britain, was shot in a field outside of Prague, where a Roman fort had been replicated with tents, ramparts, general's tent and all.

For the next five days, I arrived in a bus full of film extras before dawn to be lined up in front of the wardrobe tent where I was fitted with the standard Roman trappings. I was extremely excited, and these are my impressions.

The Tunic

First came the tunic. What can I say? I love tunics. I find them incredibly comfortable and sexy and I would walk around in them all day if people did not look at me like I was crazy ( which I am, but that is a point for another blog! :P

Being a Roman legionnaire, first I was fitted with shin-length trousers. These were thin trousers which were tied below the knees.

Then came the tunic(s). First I donned a thick, grey, long-sleeved woolen tunic. This was incredibly comfortable and warm - almost like slipping into bed!

Next came a second, thin, blue, short-sleeved cotton tunic. If the first tunic felt like slipping into bed, this felt like donning bed-sheets.

One Caliga, Two Caligae

Then came the shoes - Caligae - the standard issue Roman legion boots. Made from leather, they slipped-on easily and were laced up the shin right below the knees. It is worthy to note that, since this film takes place in Northern Europe, the Caligae provided were fully enclosed leather, as opposed to the 'sandal' type used round the Mediterranean.

The Caligae fit as comfortably as costume wardrobe shoes can. Man! I'm horribly fuzzy when buying shoes at a store - as I am sure that everyone is ;) - so I just took what they gave me and moved along.

But the Caligae are the weakest point of the Roman uniform - indeed - of the Ancient World. It is not that they were not comfortable, but ancient cultures had no concept of sole ( let alone insole ) or tread. How could this be? It is a mystery still. But if you want more insight on Caligae, I suggest you take a moment to watch this excellent video by Mr. Lindy Beige, where he explains in detail why - if you could travel back in time - the best thing you could take with you is a pair of good sneakers ( or trainers, as my fans from the UK call them).

https://youtu.be/-3qTniJsoEg

Incidentally, the Roman emperor Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus ( C.E. 37–41) was nicknamed "Caligula" because, as a kid, he used to walk round the Legionary encampment wearing said Caligae which, tailored to a child's size, were smaller than the standard issue.

Hence 'Caligula' = 'Little Boots.'

Little did the legionnaires at the time know what cruel tyrant 'Little Boots' was going to grow up to be!

"Wow, that is very interesting, Georg, but I thought this blog was about you wearing Roman armour?"

You are right. Let me continue...

Chain Mail

Then came the chain mail. Oh have I been waiting for years to wear one of these! Chain mail - for those of you, my new fans, who still don't know - is a shirt made of rings of iron. The Roman Chainmail was short sleeved ( it ended at the shoulders ) and dropped down below my groin. It weighs around 10 kg ( 22 pounds ).

Did it feel heavy? That is the key question. At first the weight was, well, surprising - the way your own clothes feel surprisingly heavy after being pushed - fully dressed - into the pool. Yet the weight of the chain mail distributes itself evenly and becomes like a second, heavier, layer of skin. It did not weigh me down. It allowed me to walk and even jog, though running would be impossible - unless desperate!

Let me tell you this: I sat down on an iron braced trunk many times during the day to rest and, while I was sitting, I absolutely forgot about the chain mail. It was only when I stood up that I was reminded - again, by the weight - that I was wearing armour.

Ultimately I can say this: did chain mail weigh me down? A little. Did it make me uncomfortable? Not at all. But, really, there is only one word to describe how I felt in chain mail: tough. Yeah, I strode about the camp with my hand resting on the pommel of the Gladius ( sword ) sheathed at my belt with calm and confidence. And when I looked at the Britons whom the Romans were to battle - who wore no armour at all - I asked myself, how could these people ever have stood a chance?

The Helmet

The helmets provided were copper replicas of the iron originals. As such, they were slightly lighter yet had been forged identically. The Roman helmet consisted of a round basin with a brow ridge at the front and a nape guard at the rear. The face is fully exposed except for the two cheek guards flanking it, guards which were tied together below the chin. The production had a whole lot of helmets in different boxes in the dressing room, and picking one which was the right size was the key to the comfort/discomfort one would enjoy/suffer for the rest of the day. The interior of these replicas were lined with strips of sponge ( the grey utilitarian type ) and I can only imagine that the originals were lined with some sort of wool padding or something, as having the bare metal round one's head would be uncomfortable - even painful - and would do little to cushion blows from an enemy.

The Cloak

By far the most versatile item of the Roman uniform is the cloak. I could wrap it about my shoulders and let it drape down to my feet in the chill before dawn ( yes, we were in full costume that early) or I could wrap it into a bundle and use it as a pillow ( in fact placing the bundle atop my helmet made for perfect naps throughout the day ). It was tied over one shoulder with leather strings which were incredibly firm to hold a knot and yet incredibly easy to untie when needed. Although we did some drilling with our cloaks on, I believe that when deployed for combat these would have stayed in the camp. But that is just me.

The Shield

I remember on my first day I saw a Roman shield and wanted to hold it to feel its grip. I was too shy to do so, since there were only two - one for each of the guards at the entrance of the fort. But little did I know that the next day EVERYONE would be given a shield as we filmed a 'call to arms.' The actual Roman shield weighed around 10 kilos, but the replicas we had must have weighed about 5. Still, in the scene we shot that day, everyone had to stand side by side ( arms length ) with their shields braced as a horde of Britons approached the fort. I tell you, holding that shield for 2 - 5 minutes at a time made it feel really heavy.

The Roman Fort

Only few people know this, but I have already completed the second draft of a novel which takes place in the ancient Roman world - one which starts within an encampment of a Roman Legion, just like the one I was standing on. In fact, let me share with you the snippet where I described a Roman legionary camp:

"It was a brisk night of spring and the stars sparkled bright in the heavens above. Crickets chirped amongst the grass of the surrounding meadows, and frogs croaked amidst the reeds of a distant pond. At a faraway grove, an owl hooted now and again.

Within a vast quadrilateral palisade, the legionary encampment was laid out in a grid of perfectly straight streets, a grid lined with rows upon rows of tents and pavilions. Within these, thousands of men slumbered under the red, eagle emblazoned standards of the Legions of Roma.

All was quiet in the night but for the neighing of one restless horse or another, and the crackling of wood at the campfires about which some men lingered still."

And that is where I was! The moment I walked into the meadow ( clad in full Roman armour ) and I saw the replica of a Roman fort which was the film set, my eyes all but popped out of my face. I walked back and forth, examining every detail, thrilled that the production company had done everything right, and that I had written everything right... ditch, spike palisade, tent rows, iron fire baskets, catapults, scorpions, balistae, general's tent... Everything! For a moment I felt that I was standing inside the very book I had written!

The Legionnaires

One of the things that I dislike about bad/cheap historical fiction, be it in books or film, is how characters are portrayed as marble statues or stereo types. People are people as they have always been, and I always pay close attention when writing characters to ensure that they are as human ( or as 'normal') as possible.

Being surrounded by all the extras in different variations of Roman uniforms ( legionaries, centurions, archers, etc ) I had a moment. It is difficult to describe, but it was something like this... I saw all the characters you would expect to find in a legion... The old big-bellied one with blood-shot eyes after a lifetime of drinking, the young slacker, the fool who would not stop blabbering about the same topic all day, the 'senior' legionnaires with their condescending attitude and the ass-hole who leads them, the friendly guy who shows you the ropes, the father who misses his family, the divorcee who resents his ex wife, etc... All of them, they were all there.

But then I realized, these are real people I am just seeing with a Roman uniform on. But how do they look in real life? And later in the day, when we changed out of our uniforms and back into our personal clothing, I looked at them again, and there they were, unrecognizable at first, but there was the drunkard, the slacker, the ass-hole, the friend, the father and the divorcee. It is funny how I ( like everyone, really ) can be so fooled by exterior appearances to miss the true nature of the person within. The palette of personalities today is the same as it has always been, and I witnessed a bridge between reality and fiction. Writing about characters will never be the same for me. Now I will write about people.

That being said, I miss those guys tremendously. I am very sad that I will not be able to part-take in the filming over the next week, as I have commitments and responsibilities in Prague. I was truly sad that it was over for me. While I was there, I felt like I was part of something. And all these guys, however different our walks in life, and however much we would not have met or connected under normal circumstances, became like a band of brothers to me, and I accepted all their flaws, and they accepted all of mine. If I felt like this after a week with these guys, I can only imagine what fellow legionaries must have felt for each other after months of duty together. I have a feeling that it is true what they say, that battle and war - when it comes down to it - is all about the man standing next to you. I felt as much because, however much I despised the slacker or the drunkard or the ass-hole, I would have still stepped up to protect them in battle, as I am sure that they would have for me. Indeed, a band of brothers.

Star Struck

After my second day I was chosen along with another 10 extras for a different role the next day. We were given different armour, a leather version of the steel Lorica Segmentata, which is the armour of the Roman heavy infantry. This consists of layers of steel encasing the torso like a lobster.

Thankfully our leather replicas were quite light, as an actual Lorica Segmentata weighs - like the chain mail - approximately 10 kilos.

Either way, once fully armoured the next day, the production team referred to us as "Jedenactku," which is Czech for "The Eleven." Little did I know that we would part-take in a scene as the personal guards of the general, and as such, we were outside the fort behind the main actors as these met with the Britons ( other main actors ) for a parley.

As it turned out, our general was played by David Morrissey of The Walking Dead Fame ( he played "The Governor," in case you missed it ). I have come across many 'stars' during my years in Los Angeles and New York, and I have never been star-struck. I never really cared.

But when I saw David I was like, "Woa..." because I really admire his work in "The Walking Dead." Still, the ultimate privilege was not to be in his presence, but to see him at work. I paid close attention, eavesdropping on the conversation between him and the director as they discussed the details of the scene, and I have to tell you, Mr. Morrissey knows what he is doing. It was such a pleasure to see a master at work... It really struck me - not the star, but witnessing the craftsmanship of a master at work. It was a treat!

But to be fair, the scene was carried by the actress playing across from him - Zoe Wanamaker ( Rolanda Hooch in the Harry Potter films ) who portrayed the queen of a Briton tribe. In the parley, she tells the Roman General ( Morrissey ) about the harrowing evil inflicted upon her son by their rival tribe, and how, because of this, she would forge an alliance with Rome for the sake of crushing said tribe.

Me and "The Eleven" were sitting on the grass in a row behind the General and his captains, so that I could only see Morrissey's back. But I had a full frontal view of Zoe as she was telling her story, and her acting was impeccable. I was transfixed by her narration, by her voice tone, her pacing, how every emotion etched itself on her face... Truly a master at work. It was a treat. We shot that scene round three or five times, and I was riveted by her performance each and every time. Indeed, what a treat, what a treat!

So, between takes, we - The Eleven - got to interact with David Morrissey a little, and I can tell you that he is cool, suave and charismatic. During the first shooting, a girl from the Briton extras standing behind the queen fainted with a heat stroke ( and she was not even wearing armour! Ha! ) so the scene had to be 'cut' and we had to take a break. They brought the girl over to where the paramedics on site looked at her and gave her water. Morrissey, EVER the gentleman ( and not going into a hussy fit about the scene being cut because of an extra ) calmly walked over to her, arms behind his back, regal in his Roman General's armour, and kindly placed a hand on her shoulder, asking her if she was OK.

Wow.

WOW!

I mean... WOW!

What can I say? David Morrissey was amazing, and I was lucky to be there.

Conclusion

This experience was a dream come true. I was as happy while I was there as I was sad when my assignment was over. While I was there, however brutal it was to stand in chainmail in the sun all day, I felt like I was part of something, that I was better than myself. After returning home, and after a couple of days, the routine of the daily life in the modern world started kicking in, with the same demands and time constraints and problems as always. And, more than once, I found myself thinking, "Man, I wish I was back with the legion."

-Georg Freese

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How I Met Your Mother... Again.

Browsing through titles on Netflix I came across the TV series ‟How I Met Your Mother” and, remembering with fondness having watched the whole series twice during my stay in upstate New York, I decided to watch an episode for the sake of nostalgia.

Now I am almost at the end of the 22 episode first season and trying as I can to slam the brakes because I just don’t have the time to binge watch another series on Netflix ( It happens to the best of us, it is true ).

I love the cast, the characters, the stories, the flashbacks and flashforwards and the narration of old Ted. And there are some true life lesson to learn from the show.

It was nostalgic to see how Barney and Robin met for the first time knowing they would end up complementing each other and married in the end. And I say the end because the show’s finale does not exist for me.

Like many fans, I resented the finale’s forced twist ending. Yet, as a writer I can understand what happened. Not that it made the creator’s decision any more acceptable, but at least it provides some insight in a TV series’s production process.

You see, many shows struggle to make it past a pilot ( that is a ‘demo’ of the show, usually the first episode of the first season) and after a show gets slotted to air, it can be cancelled within weeks of its start. I have seen this happen with a few shows while living in Los Angeles, though I could not tell you which ones or nor would you remember them because they were cancelled and cast into TV oblivion.

Making it to the end of one season is an achievement. Producing 9 seasons is a miracle, and not a standard ( as many binge watchers would believe ). And the length of a show’s run ( that is to say, it’s existence ) depends on, well, you guessed it: ratings.

But what does this mean to the show’s writers and producers? Well, lets say you have a story in mind, in this case, Ted telling his kids about his days before meeting their mother as a subconscious way to hint that he would like to date Robin again ( loser Ted, but more on him later. )

In a short time span, say, three seasons, this arch would make sense. It would not be a particularly good arch twist even on a good day ( to be honest ) but whatever. The problem was that the show was extended season after season after season, and the original arch became a bridge. We learned more about the characters, the characters learned more about themselves, and the original arch just was not enough any more.

Which brings me to Barney and Robin. Their characters are the ones which experienced the most change. Barney with his deep seeded daddy issues, as was Robin, and Robin with her unwillingness to an emotional commitment, as was Barney. They changed, they evolved, and they became better version of themselves... this is the definition of a protagonist as stated in Writing 101.

If you ask me, the show should have been called, ‟How Your Uncle Barney Met Your Aunt Robin.”

BAM!

Anyhow, Look at Ted Shmosby on the other hand. After all those years, after a marriage and two children, he is still standing below the window of a girl who sees him as just a friend while holding up a stupid blue french horn. Zero change, zero growth. He is still the same narcissistic douche he was his whole life.

But what is a narcissistic douche? Excellent question, because watching Ted really helped me understand what the term ‘narcissist’ means.

You see, I remember from my teens reading the original Greek legend of Narcissus - a man so gorgeous and self-centered that he found himself incapable of falling in love with any of the most beautiful women in Greece. One day while wondering in the nature, he came across a perfectly still pond of crystal clear water. He saw his own reflection and found the love he had been looking for. The gods punished him for this and turned him into a flower, the aptly named Narcissus flower.

Growing up I never understood the difference between vanity, egoism, self-centeredness, and narcissism. But Ted Shmosby explained:

A narcissist is a person with some relatively high intellectual upbringing who thinks his ideas and his view of the world are so innately infallible ( that is, he thinks he is always right ), that he does not only not listen or consider other points of view, but thinks of them as being inferior to his own.

With this in mind ( and understanding that Narcissism is a counterproductive habit/characteristic ) it is fun to watch the show and see how wrong Ted always was, and how hard he worked to force everyone around him into his vision of the world, or in this case, of his search for ‘the one.’

In a sense, Ted impersonates the classic ‘romantic fool looking for true love,’ seen countless times in books, movies and TV shows. But really, who is this ‘love fool?’ He is a person looking for true love who never finds it because he should be looking for ‘real love,’ the kind that exists outside his head in the real world - imperfect, messy, and painful: human.

I mean, seriously, how could a man like that ever be a good boyfriend/husband if when he looks at his girl/wife he does not see the person but the avatar of his fantasy?

Meh.

But let us get back to Barney and Robin. Their stories were real. These were broken people at the beginning. Fiercely independent and terrified of commitment. Yet it was all a mask to hide their true pain inside. And it was only when each addressed and came to terms with his/her own pain that they matured and were ready for the next stage in life.

Think about it. At the beginning they both wandered into McLaren’s pub because they needed friends. Aw....

Eff it. I am watching season 2 tonight! :D

-Georg Freese

PS: I did not mention Marshall and Lily’s relationship, which deserves a blog of its own. But let me just say what the Marshall actor Jason Segel said about them, ‟What I like about M & L is that while in most sitcoms the married couple are always ripping on each other, these two are always supporting each other.” And this key difference is what makes their relationship/marriage inspiring.

Life is not easy. Life is messy. And it takes a lot of work to, well, to keep a relationship alive.