It's a slogan that The History Channel has pasted all over the MBTA Green Line trains (I can't speak for the other lines, as I don't see them very often). It's a sentiment that would seem to express serious scholastic interest, but none of the accompanying images really match up.
"Digging for the truth" apparently means taking part in adventure sport--hang-gliding over lost civilizations that bear a striking resemblance to scenery from King Kong and Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, rock-climbing the face of large old statues (that, amazingly, aren't so old that they crumble or self-destruct under the stress and pressure of human weight), and base-jumping (or perhaps sky-diving, I couldn't tell) out of helicopters. ... But no actual "digging," no, not as such.
I had a lot of time to contemplate these advertisements over the three-day weekend (because I work at a university, and Martin Luther King Jr. received his doctorate here--if we didn't celebrate Martin Luther King Day as a proper holiday, what would people think?).
Saturday I spent indoors, watching DVDs from Netflix and some episodes of Psych that I had downloaded from iTunes. I also began to rearrange and tidy up my book-shelves, trying to give the madness a recognizable method--important since there are things I can't find that I really wish I could.
Like my sketch books or my votive candles. I had a whole bag of votives, and now I have no idea where they are. I really hope they're not in my closet (a whole other barrel of worms--yes, a barrel), but the fact that I dread even attempting to search there probably means that that's exactly where they are.
But speaking of Psych, the long mid-season pause (a pause of several months, as the last new episode was back in August) is nearly over; there's going to be a new episode airing this Friday. I'm looking forward to the continuation and hope that the series is picked up for another season. Blasphemy, but I like it better than Monk.
I nearly stayed indoors again on Sunday, but outside forces were at work that would change my mind midway through the day. Numerous instant messages overnight from my mother guilted me into inspired me to call my parents. My mother was happy to find that I'd been making use of the iTunes gift card they'd given me for Christmas (those television episodes). She also wanted to know my extended weekend plans, which had basically been put on the shelf due to inclement weather, and I said as much.
Then my father got on the phone and gave me a pep-talk--you know the kind. Don't let bad weather discourage you, get out there with an umbrella and enjoy the time, etc. It's a very easy pep-talk to give when your own weather is not shit (they live in North Carolina, and enjoyed a sunny and mild weekend). So I said in a very noncommittal way that I would get out of my apartment, and he seemed nonetheless satisfied with that unenthusiastic response.
They rung off, and I surprised even myself by actually doing what I said I would. I ate a quick lunch and left the house, North Station my destination--and arrived there at about 1:45 PM. I bought a round-trip ticket at the booth, and took the Rockport train out of Boston at 2:15 PM, which is how I ended up spending a rainy afternoon in Salem, MA.
While there, I [finally] bought Christmas presents for my flat-mates at a shop on Derby St. called Witch Ways: a sun-and-moon themed wind-chime for Michelle and an opalescent "witch ball" for Stephanie (they call it that because it's meant to protect a home from malevolent forces, but to me it looks like a pretty glass-blown Christmas ornament). After that, I went farther down to Ye Olde Pepper Candy Companie, the oldest candy company in America (open since 1806), and bought truffles--because I really like their truffles and thought they would be nice to accompany the gifts.
Christmas crises over with, I walked back toward Pickering Wharf, and stopped in at Cafe Jaho for a cappuccino and some writing--and, though I hadn't really expected much of myself, I got a fair amount of writing done. It needs editing, as the characterization of my main character is a little off for the scene (though I haven't dealt with him in 50,000 words, so that's not very surprising); but I like what I've done with the secondary character, so it wasn't a wasted or fruitless effort.
I didn't leave Salem until nearly 6:00 PM, and walked around taking pictures in the dark until the next inbound train was due to arrive.
Some of them turned out better than others.
Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to go out into the rain again, the doorbell rang. It was the postman with my purchases from Amazon.co.uk--the three new books based on the Torchwood series. I unwrapped them, enjoyed the sight of them for a few minutes (when you line up the three separate book spines they make a picture of the whole team), and put Another Life in my bag for T reading material.
I spent the afternoon at the CambridgeSide Galleria, and bought a new protective case for my iPod (a black and red leather folio that I saw at the Apple Store in Raleigh, NC over Christmas break and had been coveting ever since, regardless of the U2-connection).
Shopping confession two, I feel, requires preamble to justify the purchase--one that the majority of my friends will still feel is not an adequate justification; but if they're really my friends they'll forgive the rather "preppy" vanity involved. I don't generally shop at Abercrombie & Fitch; it's usually out of my price range, and, quite frankly, most of the clothing is poorly crafted and overpriced for its quality (or lack thereof). I've only shopped their clearance, because that's when I feel that the clothing is actual worth what you're paying.
All that being said, I really like the way Abercrombie & Fitch clothing smells--you know, before the first time you wash it. And, while looking for clothing deals with my mother in the post-Christmas madness, we went into an Abercrombie & Fitch. I ended up buying a sweater and a pair of greenish-gray khakis; and again, I was struck by the fragrance on all of the clothes.
Waiting in line, there was a table beside the check-out counter with bottles of multiple scents, and I picked up the test-bottle of "Classic" on a hunch and spritzed it on a test-strip. Sure enough, "Classic" is what all their clothes smell like. And I wanted it, but I didn't buy it; it seemed like overkill at the time (and I'm sure still seems like overkill to you, dear readers, now).
With that long introduction to the fact, the shorter story is that I went and bought a bottle yesterday at the Galleria. Because I was there, and alone, and had no one in tow to give me judgmental glares about the silliness of such a purchase (you know who you are--yes, all of you, most likely). No, I'm only leaving myself open to criticism after the fact by mentioning it in my blog; but at least this way no one can attempt to talk me out of it.
16 January 2007
digging for the truth
12 January 2007
stick that in your Liberty Bell and ring it
Jack of All Trades - President Thomas Jefferson dispatches spy Jack Stiles (Bruce Campbell) to the tiny isle of Palau-Palau to block the advance of Napoleon Bonaparte (aptly played by Verne Troyer) in this offbeat adventure series. Masquerading as a manservant, Jack and his partner -- winsome British agent Emilia Rothschild (Angela Dotchin) -- aim to thwart Napoleon while also combating the corrupt colonial governor (Stuart Devenie).
I'd forgotten about the introduction to Jack of All Trades. It's ... special. But then, so is the show. On one hand, I don't think the half-hour time frame was right for it--didn't give the opportunity for much character development from episode to episode. On the other hand, how many punny would-be patriotic quips and back-biting between American Jack Styles and English Emilia Rothschild can you take in one sitting? Actually, it's not even "would-be" patriotism; it's tongue-in-cheek patriotism.
I think my favourite episodes are the four including Napoleon (Verne Troyer). Yes. Mini-me as Napoleon. But that's the level of silliness, and why even what might be an annoying display of patriotism can be taken in stride.
Also, there seems to be some online contention about whether Palau-Palau (the island on which the series is meant to occur) is supposed to be in the South Pacific or the Caribbean. I'll just say that they would be better off on deeming it the South Pacific (though, historically, the West Indies would probably make more sense). The "natives" are all either Maori (because it was filmed in New Zealand) or South East Asians--no Africans or Central- or South Americans among them, a fact that just doesn't jive with the Caribbean idea.
Typical to Bruce, it's fun and cheesy and probably only to be appreciated by his crazy fans (of which I am one).
11 January 2007
could be more sonic
I start where nightmares end.
Today I mistook Brueghel's "Triumph of Death" for something by Bosch ... I mean, they may have differing philosophies about life, death, and religion; but their painting styles feel very similar. Very "Where's Waldo" actually.
Seriously, though. Find the man wearing red pants, a blue shirt, and a white girdle thing.
You can do the same thing with any panel of Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights". In the center panel find the owl.
I think I'm predisposed to prefer Brueghel over Bosch, mostly because it was featured in the second part of Monty Python's "Spanish Inquisition" sketch.
The Harvard AMC is a good theatre so far as the non-stadium-seating variety go; however, the lack of indoor waiting room leaves something to be desired when there's a wind-chill in the 20s. I left my apartment at around 5 PM, and arrived at the Harvard T station at around 6 PM, surfacing at Church St. to find that the cinema had the line for the free preview of Pan's Labyrinth waiting along the outer wall of the building. Nicole was already in line, and only a few people from the front; so when they finally began to let the audience in, we basically had our choice of seats. And, really, had we been farther back in the line, I doubt it would've made a great difference. The theatre didn't fill up, and most of the right and left wings of the audience area were still empty by the time the lights began to dim.
Surprised? Not really. It never did strike me as something main-stream; it's in a foreign language, not an epic, nor does it have the kind of history and age to draw the kind of crowd that Lord of the Rings achieved. All that being said, it is a fairy tale for adults.
El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan's Labyrinth) - In this fairy tale for adults, 10-year-old Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) stumbles on a decaying labyrinth guarded by Pan (Doug Jones), an ancient satyr who claims to know her destiny. With a new home, a new stepfather (Sergi Lopez) -- a Fascist officer in the pro-Franco army -- and a new sibling on the way, nothing is familiar to Ofelia in this Independent Spirit Award-nominated tale set in 1944 Spain from director Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy, Blade 2).
Entering into it, and perhaps for the first half, one might think that the "adult" nature comes from the modern setting and vaguely period-based events that take place beside the fantasy; but even the fantastic elements possess an adult quality that I wouldn't recommend for children. Getting beyond the ambiguous Pan, there is the Pale Man (both acted by Doug Jones), a deformed monstrosity with cannibalistic tendencies. The story and rating allow for the gore of proper tales der Brüder Grimm (though, of course, this is entirely del Toro's product).
I do wish there had been more to tell about the step-father; there was a hint of dimension in the bare inclusion of his father's death as a topic in one conversation, but mostly we're left to a two-dimensional aspect of his character. He's cruel to Ofelia from the start; he doesn't especially care about his wife; and he only cares about his coming son insofar as the child represents a continuation of the Captain himself, a legacy of blood.
The point is, the man is a monster--as much as (or perhaps more-so than) the Pale Man. At least when Ofelia sees the Pale Man, she knows he's a dangerous creature. The Captain, however, takes the guise of humanity--and from Ofelia's point of view, there ought to be something more than a monster there. There really isn't. He's the Spanish equivalent of Hitler, and he seems to enjoy personally getting his hands dirty (versus the usual stink of association) with graphic acts of torture.
The ending, without giving anything away, is fittingly bitter-sweet. One is left wondering if what we see is real or a last fragmented imagining. Physical things accomplished and witnessed throughout the film, sometimes by more people than Ofelia (the root-baby screaming in the fire, the "doors" drawn in chalk when Ofelia is locked in her room), lead to the conclusion that it isn't all in her head. So maybe we're meant to think that there is something to the fairy tale.
10 January 2007
... entertain us
I'm glad that the next few DVDs in the Netflix line-up are comedies. Last night, watching Vicar of Dibley and Arrested Development, I laughed more within the span of a few hours than I usually do in a whole day.
The Vicar of Dibley - The 100-something vicar of the small English village of Dibley has passed on. A new vicar has been requested for a replacement. What they get is Geraldine Granger (Dawn French), a non-traditional, chocolate loving, rock n' roll playing vicar. That is not what gets the citizens of Dibley in an uproar though. It's because she is a woman. Still, that doesn't stop Geraldine from proving her worthiness to the village. After time, the villagers (with the exception of influential David Horton [Gary Waldhorn]) accept Geraldine as the vicar of Dibley.
I moved the first "season" to the top of my Netflix queue after watching the New Year's special on my laptop--"Vicar in White," stated as the final episode, and one in which Geraldine gets married.
Who's the lucky guy? Richard Armitage (who also happens to play Guy of Gisborne in the newer BBC television series Robin Hood). I have to say that I like him much better when he's playing a good guy--which is rare, since my preference tends to go the other way around. As Guy, Armitage is more than a little unhinged, and not in a sexy way, but in an he-might-really-be-crazy and he's-definitely-a-murderer way. I also don't approve of the eye-liner (or mascara or whatever else) they used on him; it adds no depth of color and just makes his eyes look beadier than they really are.
The final episode of the series is a cute one, chronicling the endeavors of the people of Dibley to take full responsibility for the vicar's wedding ceremony out of her hands. Bridal gown, bride's maid's dresses, music, flowers, etc. And, as you might expect, it's absolutely insane. And perfect. I think my favourite touch was Alice (Emma Chambers) dressing up as maid of honour, wearing a full replica of the Doctor Who suit--the David Tennant suit, of course--with all the bride's maids behind her dressed as Daleks.
Anyway, after I'd finished watching it, I remembered that the available seasons were sitting in my neverending queue--so I bumped them all to the top of the queue. I received "season" one yesterday afternoon; and I qualify "season" with quotation marks, because it only consists of nine episodes. And the other "seasons" are even shorter, so each one only takes up a single disc--which is, to a certain extent, economical, but it brings back my old complaint about the brevity of most television series produced in the United Kingdom.
I know. I've just been spoiled by the lengthiness of State-side productions. Oh, well.
Fully aware that actual vicars don't behave the way Dawn French portrays Geraldine, I still have to think that, had I been raised in the Anglican Church, I might have a better opinion of Christianity. Most sects of Christianity are not designed for change (*cough*Catholicism*cough*), but the Church of England seems fairly flexible.
It might just be a case of the grass seeming greener. I know that change hasn't come easily for them either, and that most other branches of Christianity consider Anglicans the wishy-washy cousin--but, for them, change does seem to happen. That sort of elasticity seems go along with survival of, well, everything, and religion is probably not the exception to the rule.
On the agenda for this evening? Well, the second disc of Arrested Development's second season is supposed to arrive; but I have other entertainment plans.
I'll be going to the Harvard AMC for a free preview of El Laberinto del Fauno (a.k.a. Pan's Labyrinth). I've already watched it without translation, so I'm looking forward to the more complete experience of viewing with subtitles--and on a much larger screen. Also being a big fan of the soundtrack by Javier Navarrete, I can't wait to hear it in surround sound.
09 January 2007
on the wampage
Sometimes you find the best things accidentally.
When I arrived home yesterday, Maddigan's Quest was waiting for me in the vestibule. I watched all thirteen episodes last night--my attention divided between watching the television, eating my dinner, and cleaning my room. And speaking of cleaning my room, I'm quite proud of the progress I've made in ridding the floor and surfaces of clutter. My desk and book-shelves require the most attention at present, but all else is reasonably clutter-free.
On Maddigan's Quest again, conveniently the series finished at around 10 PM when I was ready to go to sleep.
Maddigan's Quest - Set in a post-apocalyptic future, Maddigan’s Quest follows the circus troop ‘Maddigan’s Fantasia’, who come from the only remaining city, Solis. Each year, the Fantasia leave Solis to perform and earn a living, but this year is different: they have been set the task of obtaining a new Solar Converter to replace the existing converter – the only power source in Solis – which is failing. At the centre is 14-year-old Garland (Rose McIver) – the final Maddigan. However, as the Fantasia are attacked on their quest, two mysterious boys, Timon (Jordan Metcalfe) and Eden (Zac Fox), appear with their baby sister Jewel. They claim to be from the future, from Solis, where the Fantasia have failed in their quest and the evil, revolting Nennog (Ross Duncan) has taken power. They have come back with a Talisman which appears to give Eden extraordinary powers, to help the Fantasia succeed in their quest. But they also bring danger, in the form of Ozul (Peter Daube) and Maska (Michael Hurst), two men who will stop at nothing to capture the boys. Can the Fantasia protect Timon and Eden, and succeed in their quest to obtain a new solar converter for Solis Maddigan’s Quest is a vivid tale of magic, adventure and time-travel, from the internationally renowned children’s author Margaret Mahy.
I'm determined to watch the series again before I make any great statements about the whole, but I will say that I have two favourite performances from this show--Michael Hurst (Maska) and Jordan Metcalfe (Timon).
Maska is a robot--well, a human head with a metal body--and a sort of underling to Ozul (Peter Daube), but I get the impression that he is the more thoughtful and sensible of the two. Michael Hurst plays the character dead-pan and ruthless, and he devotedly disappears into the role (as he does with every character he plays). The snarking between Maska and Ozul usually winds down to Maska having the last word, and they're always excellently cutting last words.
Timon is a morally ambiguous character; though, at the beginning of the series, he feels very down-to-earth, a conscientious boy-next-door, the would-be hero. That's why he becomes far more interesting when he falters and founders into the villain; it also enables Jordan Metcalfe to exhibit his acting chops. Metcalfe physically looks very young--early teenager, one might expect. However, in the last few episodes of the series, Timon's body is overtaken by a blood-virus that turns him into a reptilian insect creature with evil intent. Basically Metcalfe goes from being would-be hero to Machiavellian villain, and the transition is amazing to watch. It's a slow initial onset that leaves the viewer uncertain about what exactly is happening to him, but the final change is very abrupt and physical.
It was while observing this change that I thought, He can't be a teenager. No way. And he isn't, but it would be easy to make the mistake. He's baby-faced, shorter than average, and his voice is a tenor--but he's twenty-one. Considering what the character has to eventually become, it was a wise choice for the casting director to make.
And now for something completely different (no, not Monty Python's Flying Circus). I was looking for images of Captain Jack Harkness (John Barrowman) of Torchwood--no special reason, I just felt like it--and one of my searches led me to a blog with this:
Consequently, the blog had this too, which also pleased me (since it was what I was looking for in the first place):
08 January 2007
moral courage?
Trust has nothing to do with moral courage. It occurs when we have nowhere else to turn, when we reach the end of our need to control.
I think our eyes occasionally read and interpret what we expect to read, rather than what is actually there. For example, this quote--for me--makes trust look like a last resort. When I first read the second sentence, my mind definitely saw, It occurs when we have nowhere else to run, when we reach the end of our rope. I apparently link trust with desperation. And words beginning with the letter 'r'.
That notion really has nothing to do with the rest of my entry; it was just a personal conclusion based on a muddled morning contemplation. However, this act of contemplation took place post-tea and post-coffee; so it cannot be entirely debunked.
I received three movies on Friday afternoon and enjoyed them all to varying degrees.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - Petty thief Harry Lockart (Robert Downey Jr.) gets caught up in a murder investigation in this action-packed comedy. Posing as an actor, Harry heads to Los Angeles for an unlikely audition and finds an authentic acting coach in detective Perry Van Shrike (Val Kilmer). But the bright lights of Hollywood fade when a murder takes place and Harry, Perry and Harry's high school dream girl (Michelle Monaghan) become part of the investigation.
Robert Downey Jr. seems very much at home in this role--and it's kind of the way I'd imagine him being in reality. That could be entirely off the mark, but his lines just felt direct from the source and, well, right. That being said, and given the understanding that Robert Downey Jr. is damn near perfect in this part, I honestly think that Val Kilmer manages to steal the show as "Gay Perry"--a fact that shouldn't surprise me after his audience-winning performance in Tombstone--since they have given him some of the best lines in the movie.
Perry: Why in pluperfect hell did you pee on the corpse?
And, then ...
Perry: Look up idiot in the dictionary. You know what you'll find?
Harry: A picture of me?
Perry: No! The definition of idiot. Which you fucking are!
And then there was this:
Perry: Go. Sleep badly. Any questions, hesitate to call.
Harry: Bad.
Perry: Excuse me?
Harry: Sleep bad. Otherwise it makes it seem like the mechanism that allows you to sleep...
Perry: What, fuckhead? Badly's an adverb. Who taught you grammar? Get out. Vanish.
Character Perry is so intelligent and snarky, he's almost immediately endeared to me above the rest; it helps that he's being played by Val Kilmer, but it's really just a bonus. Suffice to say, this film has some excellent dialog, and the plot is wonderfully winding. It has to be one of the more satisfying movies I've watched in a while, probably partly because a lot of the conversations remind me of things I or friends have said before. If you haven't seen it, you should. *****
Key Largo - As a hurricane wreaks havoc outside, Army veteran Frank McCloud (Humphrey Bogart), Nora Temple (Lauren Bacall) and her invalid father-in-law face a worse storm inside the Temples' tumbledown Florida hotel. Frank stopped by merely to pay his respects to war-widow Nora, only to find the hotel commandeered by exiled gangster Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson) and his band of goons. Will the war-weary Frank step up to the plate to save the Temples?
Yes, of course, he will. When Bogart is the good guy, he's terribly self-sacrificing. The only thing I was unclear about with this film was whether his character would live or die in the end. A big to-do is made about McCloud's friendship with Temple's son, and Temple's bravery and self-sacrifice in the war--all leading up to McCloud's need to put out his own neck. So I wondered if this, too, would lead to death.
The acting is very good, on all accounts; but having seen so many films along this bent, the story feels lacking. I expected more violence, or at least more tension; but I'm not sure what the rules of censorship were like in 1948, so perhaps this was as far as they could take anything. Or maybe the writer or the director placed their own censorship on what they felt they should show.
Rocco is supposed to be domestically violent with his mistress, but the most the audience ever actually sees is some verbal abuse--verbal abuse that probably wouldn't mean as much to the woman, were she sober enough to brush it off. Granted, the audience does see Rocco shoot a policeman; but there's very little blood, and the camera doesn't dwell on the body for long. Rocco is slimy, yes, and brutal; I just don't think we get enough visual impressions about the fact.
At the time of its cinematic release, I'm sure that parents would not have felt okay in bringing their young along to see this movie, but by modern standards it's fairly family-friendly and, yes, predictable. Were it not for the quality of the actors involved, I would give it a lower score. ***
Impromptu - Nineteenth century feminist author George Sand (Judy Davis), as famous for her cigar-smoking and pants-wearing as she was for her writing, is at the center of this literary drama. Although she's fallen for composer Frederic Chopin (Hugh Grant), a number of obstacles stand in their way -- rivals, former lovers … even duels! This film was nominated for a New York Film Critics Circle Award and an Independent Spirit Award.
I think I added this to my queue based on the involvement of Julian Sands, but he's not a major character; actually, all characters play second fiddle to George Sand (Judy Davis)--even Frederic Chopin (Hugh Grant).
Foolishly longing for art's influence in her circle, the Duchess D'Antan (Emma Thompson) invites a group of artists to her estate for a fortnight, and Sand invites herself along in hopes of trailing after Chopin--not that the Duchess seems to mind, finding the impertinence more amusing than troubling. It's a recipe for battling eccentricities--and trouble--that eventually turns on the Duchess in an evening's entertainment produced by Alfred De Musset (Mandy Patinkin), the sole purpose of which is to ridicule the host and hostess.
Franz Liszt: [as God] Hurry, Noah, to the Ark, and fill it with two each of the creatures of land, sea, and air.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Lord, we have no need for animals - art alone will save the world. Let's see, we'll need two of everything: two poets, two painters, two musicians...
Franz Liszt: [as God] Impossible, they will not come. Your conversation is not witty and you have no ideals.
George Sand: [as Noëtte] Ha ha, true, but we shall also give them free food and lodging for forty days and forty nights. Now, we shall also need two playwrights, two composers, two makers of velvet flowers...
Chopin, responsible for composing and playing its music, stops the play once he realizes its nature; for though the Duchess is generally vapid, it is fairly nasty payback for her generosity. As one of the other characters remarks at some point, Chopin is the girl of the relationship between him and Sand--kinder, frailer, better-mannered.
The cast is superb and the relationships feel possible and true--and truth is one of the more difficult things to get at in a period drama. ****
05 January 2007
in your frequency
I bought it over break, and have been listening to Placebo's Meds album a lot lately; and I've found a weird video for the title-track.
"Meds" - Placebo
Christmas, continued
I have more pictures of presents from my friends.
Pirate playing-cards, a seriously heavy replica of a doubloon, all inside a pirate box--from my flat-mate Michelle.
An origami box that is too nice to part with and a bar of lavender-vanilla-scented soap--from Melly.
Likely, more pictures will follow, as there are still some things I've not yet captured.
deterred, in a few ways
--by weather.com.
I had all my credit card info entered into American Airlines' web-site. And then the thought occurred to me: It's January, and I'm thinking of going to London.
So I visited weather.com to check on the forecast. Rain. And rain. And--here's something new!--more rain.
I'd like to walk around and take pictures when I visit the city. That's likely to be impossible if it's raining all the time. And I should've expected that kind of weather initially, but I just wasn't thinking about it before. I'd feel better if there was a forecast of clear skies (or if I'd made these plans a month ago, and there just happened to be inclement weather, and I couldn't do anything about it), but that just isn't the case. I haven't paid for the tickets yet, and I don't have to go when the weather is shit.
It might be a rotten reason not to go, but no. I'll wait until the weather is improved, and I've a better chance of actually enjoying myself while there--not shut up indoors the whole time.
Or should I just buy a poncho and go with it? ...
Even regardless of getting around London without getting drenched, weather could prove a problem with flying (there and back). I'd rather not get stuck somewhere and end up trying to explain to my boss by long-distance phone or confusing e-mail why I can't come to work on Tuesday, thanks.
FedEx has the most obnoxious office location they could possibly have relative to where I live.
They tried to drop off my iPod AV kit yesterday at around 9:45 AM according to their tracking web site. But because I wasn't there to sign, they wouldn't leave it (just as well since the thing was expensive, and I'd prefer not to lose it or have it stolen). Instead, they left a door-hanger asking for me to sign for it indirectly or come and get it--at their hub in South Boston. My other option was that they would attempt to deliver it again today (with no clue as to when that is going to happen either).
Hi. I work, like normal people who have a rent to pay are wont to do. Don't try to deliver a package to me in the middle of the morning on a work day, and don't expect me to be home. Also, why can't FedEx have more delivery-holding offices around this city? It's not like they don't have the business to support it. Or why can't their main hub be in some central place--maybe near the Government Center? And, I know, South Boston has more warehouse space. Blah, blah, blah. I don't care. They could afford to have local offices (as the USPS does) if they wanted.
But, this rant aside, my flat-mate offered to drive me over there after work if they fail to show up at a more reasonable hour today.
So hopefully I'll have this thing by tonight; and hopefully it'll work with my television too.
04 January 2007
wanderlust
It may be a foolish flight of fancy, but I'm contemplating going to London next weekend.
I've been researching the possibility online, and I could fly there and stay in a hostel for a total of less than $800. The first question is: Do I want to spend $800 for three days and two nights in London?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Second question is: Should I?
I know what my mother would say: NO (and a big fat NO, at that). But I'm twenty-three years-old, so I don't really have to seek anyone's counsel or permission in this matter.
And that's where I'm stuck in my thought process right now.
My first idea had been to visit my friends in New Jersey for that three-day weekend; but they're going to be at Disney World, so I axed that idea. And then, I thought up this new one. It's terribly last-minute, and I'd be going alone, but I think I'd have a good time (you know, provided I kept my nationality a well-kept secret).
I think my only regret would be that it would only last for a three-day weekend. I've only ever been to Heathrow Airport in the UK, and I'd really love to go for a longer visit and actually sight-see. Three days will give me a taste-test, but I'd probably be better off going for a week when I have more vacation days accrued.
But I want to go. So maybe I will.
03 January 2007
saving those pence
I watched the finale of Torchwood last night, but only after observing the torrent with much frustration for several hours. It was certainly worth the wait.
First of all, BBC Three aired the final episodes (12 and 13) of Torchwood on Monday night. I waited and watched mininova and similar sites, on the lookout for an update and available torrents. A little while before I was getting ready to go to bed, they were suddenly there, so I started them; and, in spite of there being purportedly dozens of seeds, the torrents were downloading very slowly. I huffed and sobbed and eventually went to bed, with the old aphorism of pots boiling running through my brain.
When I awoke the next morning, they were barely half-done downloading. I huffed some more, and went to watch episodes of Arrested Development and Robin Hood and continued to check on my torrents restlessly.
Episode 12, "Captain Jack Harkness" finished at around 7:30 PM, and I eagerly dropped everything else and was fairly hypnotised by my media player for the next fifty minutes. Brief plot: the Jack we know and Toshiko walk through a rift in time in an old abandoned Ritz, and they end up in 1940s Cardiff just before the blitz--where they meet ... Captain Jack Harkness.
First off, the other Captain Jack Harkness is very pretty; this episode was asking for a Jack/Jack snog the moment the audience (and our Captain Jack) was introduced to the other one. Suffice to say, the episode doesn't disappoint in that way at all. It almost makes you believe it's going to disappoint you, but then it doesn't.
Eventually, the rest of the team bring Jack and Tosh back through the rift (with their machine and an incomplete equation). Actually, that's much easier said than done on-screen. Ianto and Owen get into a serious brawl over whether they should or shouldn't use the rift machine without the complete equation (Owen for, and Ianto against). Owen manages to activate the machine, bringing their teammates back through, but Owen doesn't get through that act unscathed. Ianto shoots him in the back, and only barely misses his heart.
"End of Days" is the thirteenth and final episode of this season. The aftershocks of Owen's opening the rift continue to have ill effect on Cardiff and the world. Aliens, Roman soldiers, and peasants carrying the Black Death are coming through the rift and wreaking havoc. Jack blames Owen, and after too much insubordination from Owen, Jack fires him. I also get the feeling that perhaps Jack would've been happier to stay in the 1940s in the previous episode, and is angry that Owen has brought them back at such an expense to humanity.
Throughout the episode the team members see dead loved ones urging them to open the rift--that if they only open the rift entirely, everything will go back to normal. Gwen ends up being the catalyst; her boyfriend Rhys is stabbed to death by the strange Ritz manager from the previous episode, stabbed while Rhys is locked in the Hub (and supposedly safe from harm). Gwen, convinced that she can turn back time and bring her beau back to life, insists upon opening the rift. Jack knows better, but Owen shows up again (after a haunting visit from his lost Dianne) and they all turn on Captain Jack in mutiny. And Owen shoots Jack in the head when the Captain tries to forcibly stop them from turning on the machine.
No, turning on the rift machine was a bad idea. As it turns out, a giant demonic creature lives under the rift, and the team has inadvertently released it and brought on the destruction of man; because any human being standing in the shadow of the monster falls down dead. Well, as he has done in previous episodes, Captain Jack comes back to the land of the living after being shot in the head repeatedly, determined to sacrifice himself for the greater good again.
The final minutes of the episode are fairly biblical. Jack has Gwen drive him out to the hills to meet the demon and tells her to run away. Jack and the giant have a battle of will--the creature's ability to fell anything in its path versus Jack's apparent immortality. There's light and rumbling, and Jack's neverending life-force seems to react with the monster's shadow like a meeting of matter and anti-matter. The creature is consumed in light and disappears, leaving Jack (looking much worse for wear) lying on the hill-top.
Gwen brings his body back to the Hub, and everyone besides her believes Jack is (at last) dead. After assuring herself that Rhys is back and alive, Gwen returns to Jack and sits with him for days. When she seems ready to give up, she kisses him, and starts to walk away. We hear Jack say, "Thank you." And, like Jesus out of the tomb, he's back!
It's a good way to end the season and a real tear-jerker. Everyone's crying and hugging and apologising, and Jack forgives a crying Owen and snogs Ianto. It's just a happy ending.
And then Jack seems to see something that the audience isn't allowed to see, there's a sound--very Tardis-like--and Jack disappears without a trace. Again, like Jesus being collected to Heaven.
Jack is a total Christ figure.
Continuing my need for Torchwood, I went to Amazon.co.uk, and ordered the first two books based on the series: Another Life and Slow Decay, priced at £5.59 each. I also purchased Maddigan's Quest, because I've been meaning to watch it since last January.
However, when I went back to Amazon.co.uk this morning, the books were priced down to £4.89 each; so I cancelled them on the previous order, and re-ordered all three at the new and lower price. Because I value that £2.10--that's $US 4 or so. I can get three cups of coffee out of that at Dunkin' Donuts.
Yes, I'm cheap--but it's Amazon's fault for allowing me to be so. You can cancel anything up until they actually ship it to you; and since they hadn't shipped them yet, I was allowed to cancel and get the discount. And I like getting a discount, especially when I'm paying nearly £10 for shipping and handling (because there's no super saver shipping to the States from the UK).
And a final note to self: Slip the rent check under the landlord's door. While she's a nice lady and won't come to murder you in your sleep, you shouldn't take advantage of that. Stop being forgetful. The End.
02 January 2007
onward and upward
That’s mean and devious and sick. ... We should totally hang out more.
Holidailies has come to a close, and while I didn't complete the 30 entries they would have liked, I did complete at lest 20 entries they expected. Actually, I had 27 for the month, so I fell nicely into a "Satisfactory" category.
Still, I don't think I'm going to kill this journal now that December is over. I will never post everything here that I post in my LiveJournal, but that's for the best.
The quote is from fan fiction. Strife fan fiction. I joined a Yahoo group dedicated to Joel Tobeck's characters, because I love Joel-sama (his IMDb page now has pictures). The members of this group occasionally e-mail their written work to the list. I know it's old hat, but it's kind of awesome to be able to read fan fiction through e-mail.
I also read that my mom is sending me an AV kit for my iPod--a dock and cables that will allow me to hook the iPod to the television and watch iPod videos on a larger screen. She gave my dad one for Christmas (along with a new 80GB iPod), and we used the TV feature to watch Torchwood on the living room's big-screen television. Yes, it's a wee bit pixilated, but not in any way that makes it an unbearable experience. And besides, I rather like being able to watch Torchwood on something besides my computer or my iPod.
Speaking of Torchwood, I'm in the midst of downloading the final episodes of the season. They're going much slower than the last ones, but hopefully they'll get faster as more people obtain them. I also think that having two episodes released on the same evening didn't help this problem. I think it's much easier for people to seed smaller files released a few days apart. Still, I suppose I'll be happy once they're complete.
Yesterday was fairly relaxing (after I finally got home from traveling, that is). I spent the afternoon watching Forever Knight and Arrested Development. The last episode of Forever Knight is fairly disappointing, I have to say; and the second to last episode is also disappointing--they killed Vachon! How could they kill Vachon?! Yes, he has terrible hair (or, at any rate, a terrible wig); but with a decent hair-cut he would have been so handsome. Ben Bass is damned handsome in his own right.
I'd still like to talk more about my vacation and the kinks of travel ("kinks," here, meaning: "annoying" rather than "unexpectedly bizarre and fun"), but that might need to come later in the day, as I'm rather busy this morning.
For those of you in the same boat, welcome back to work, and Happy New Year!
25 December 2006
more presents
In which I give a catalog of my haul and the food made and consumed thus far.
No, not really, but close enough.
I also received $40 from my Grammy, a $50 iTunes gift card, a pair of black pjs from Gap Body, and a navy blue hoodie from AEO (the last two of which I am presently wearing).
On Saturday, we went out to lunch at an Asian bistro down by the ballpark.
In the afternoon I made chocolate-chip cookies. Then, my mom was having issues with the baci and the cookie press, and enlisted my assistance with those as well. We ended up removing the shaper at the end, and (in my opinion) they looked more like what they were supposed to be in the first place.
If you've never had--or made--them before, baci are rather work-intensive cookies; but the product is well worth the effort. We made "Romeo" baci (versus "Juliet" baci). "Romeo" baci have chocolate in the batter, whereas "Juliet" baci do not and are a plain almond or hazelnut flavor. They're baked in halves; then, you paint melted chocolate on the underside of one and stick it to another underside; then, you put them on a plate or sheet and stick them in the fridge until the chocolate sets again. It's a sandwich cookie, but it looks like ball--and more than a little naughty when it's in its halves.
Before baking the baci, we had to let them sit on the sheets for a few hours to set up. So we went to Costco and Kroger during the interim. At Costco we bought 5 lbs. of Australian lamb, two bottles of wine, and a few different kinds of cheese.
Some religious nut had left a fake $20 on a pile of journals with a "call to Jesus" on the inside: "Disappointed? Jesus won't let you down." It was followed by a church address and a number for a hotline. I borrowed my mother's red pen, wrote my own little message on the inside, and put it back where I'd found it. Shit-heels.
My dad wandered off, and my mom and I continued on to Kroger looking for bread and Ballatore. There was wine-tasting going on in the alcohol section, and I tried a merlot while my mom had a shiraz. They were good, but not tempting enough to make us change our planned course. All the bread was pathetic and embarrassing, so my mom said, "Screw this! Let's make our own!" Our cart was conspicuously food-free; we bought two bottles of Ballatore (the regular spumante and the rosso), a six-pack of the peach Bacardi, a six-pack of Mike's hard lemonade, and Dayquil for my eversick father.
When we got home, my mom sent me out to the yard to collect oregano and rosemary, and we proceeded to make garlic and herb baguettes. While they were rising, we finished the baci.
Saturday night dinner consisted of spiced wine, a few kinds of cheese, baguette, and cured ham--with baci, chocolate-chip cookies, and chocolate-covered almonds (because we had to do something with the leftover melted chocolate) for dessert.
Sunday continued the madness of food. Lunch was another simple sit-down with more homemade bread, cheese, and ham. Then, we went out to the Grand Asia Market and Trader Joe's in Cary. And, you know, bought more food. Because we had to.
After getting home again, my mom and I got started on Christmas Eve dinner: a riesling, roasted lamb marinated in too many things for me to list, herbed mashed potatoes, and a vegetable stir-fry. The lamb took nearly three hours to complete, but it was so worth it. I hadn't had lamb in nearly three years, and this was a happy reintroduction.
Today, following the morning's present craziness, we began Christmas dinner: a rose wine, still more bread, shrimp in marinara sauce, and Italian sausage lasagna. I am so damn full; I think I'll be rolling back to Boston after the holiday is over.
24 December 2006
Christmas in pictures
Having already posted a number Christmas-related pictures from the apartment in Brighton, MA, it only seemed proper to do the same for Christmas in Durham, NC.
RANDOM
And now I'm off for Christmas present wrapping. Happy Christmas Eve, all!
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