On Saturday night my parents were asking me what I wanted to do, but I didn't know and instead of lounging around their hotel room, my dad suggested that we go to the movies.
OK. The closest cinema to their place was the Common, and we left at a time that could've seen us sitting in practically any movie showing there. There are a handful of features out right now that I wouldn't mind seeing. My parents both really enjoyed Horton Hears a Who, but I didn't want to make them see a repeat, so it came down to 21, Mrs. Pettigrew, In Bruges, and The Other Boleyn Girl.
We went to see In Bruges. It has some wickedly funny moments of caustic humour and some pretty grim moments of violence.
And then, three minutes from the end of the movie, a group of teenagers staggered in from the hallway, talking and laughing and standing in front of the screen. Colin Farrell was saying something, but it couldn't really be heard between the kids loudly looking for seats, people in the audience telling them to shut it, and the kids reacting in cackles of laughter and threats about punching or kicking people for telling them to shut it. Somebody in the back chimed out, "You're perpetuating a stereotype." Yes, they are; but they're not going to know what you're talking about; and you're only perpetuating a cycle. Yelling at them only makes them worse.
The movie ended, the police came in, and those who requested it received a ticket of re-admittance to any show they want. My parents and I took those, and then my mum and dad handed the tickets off to me and told me to go back and see some movies on my own time. Nice of them.
31 March 2008
of unchaperoned teenagers
30 March 2008
morning thought
The pianist at The Natick Collection is unexpectedly cool (or geeky, depending on your point of view). We were sitting and listening outside one of the department stores in the oddly comfortable sofas that they have peppered throughout the mall, and at one point he was definitely playing a somewhat embellished version of "There's a Fine, Fine Line" from the Avenue Q soundtrack. And if you had never heard the lyrics, it fit in with his repertoire just fine.
26 March 2008
24 March 2008
For Saturday, I had written an entry that was a rather cryptic return from my ten-day hiatus. My mind is in a [somewhat] better place now, so maybe I can get through a rational explanation of the weekend's events.
Easter. Yeah. Great.
... Or maybe not. I just explained the situation to Lindsay--or ranted about it--Michelle and Ian have also sort of heard about it.
My mother's family is certifiable, I'm convinced.
My grandmother had an aneurysm on Thursday.
My mother has six siblings, and none of them knows the value of leaving a message on an answering machine apparently. My parents said they had a dozen calls on Thursday night, all of them resulting in dead air on the answering machine--after which they unplugged the phone because they thought it was over-zealous marketers or kids pulling pranks--because, surely, if the matter were that important, the caller might leave even a sparse message. No.
Since the robbery, my parents have had one dinosaur of a computer in their home. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. And for this reason, it's not very useful for checking email. My father finally received his new desk-top in the mail on Thursday, but he hadn't set it up yet, because he gets home late most nights and is too tired to mess with it.
On Friday night, my mother had managed to make "the dinosaur" log on to the internet. In her inbox, there's an email from my uncle J asking her to get in touch with one of them. Uncle F is angry at my parents for not responding sooner--he doesn't quite believe they were robbed and have one old computer that doesn't quite work all the time. Aunt J is convinced that she could have done something to prevent Nana's aneurysm. Uncle C is now living by himself, but occasionally being looked in on by my uncle S. Aunt K is ... well, she's a bossy bitch.
The family is imploding, basically, and nobody is communicating very well; and my mother can't get a straight story about Nana's condition from any of them. So she messages me on AIM on Friday night (when I'm out at the Publick House with Lindsay, Ahmer, Bob, Kathy, and a silent young man whose name I couldn't catch in the din). When I get home at midnight, this is the message:
"Nana had an aneurysm. She's at Beth Israel, and maybe you can visit for us. Call me."
Midnight seemed an inappropriate time to respond to this message, so I went to bed.
I called in the morning, trying to find out where exactly Nana is at Beth Israel (it's a sprawling hospital), but Mum didn't know that. She knew when visiting hours began, but that was about it. It didn't help that my phone was uncharged, because she wanted me to go there, find out Nana's condition, and call them back immediately. So I let the phone charge for a while, got ready, and walked down to the D line.
My first guess at the buildings was wrong. I went into the East Campus building, because that's the official address for the whole hospital, and was informed that Nana was actually in the West Campus building. And when I got there, the front desk person told me that she was in room 675--but there really isn't a room 675, at least not labeled as such. I wouldn't have known where to go at all if aunt J hadn't spotted me first.
A (aunt J's husband) had taken C to get food, so we were the only ones there to begin with. We stood outside the ICU for a while, because they were in the process of doing something with Nana, and I tried to get J to say something of her condition so that I'd know what to expect. But J doesn't really know what's what.
J: "Well, an aneurysm is like a stroke that happens in the brain."
Me: "Really? I thought that strokes also happened in the brain."
J: "No, strokes happen in the heart... blahblahblah... "
Uhhhh ... I didn't have the patience to argue with her on that front. And I really wanted to hear something from an actual doctor.
Talking to J [inappropriately] reminds me of this commercial:
I really wasn't prepared to see Nana this way. There's a tube that goes through her groin, all the way up into her skull and out to drain the excess fluid from the aneurysm. An orderly--or maybe she was a nurse--came in and re-adjusted the oxygen tube to her nose. She was in an out of consciousness during the time that Jean and I were in the room. For thirty seconds at the most her eyes would be open, and then she'd go back into fitful rest. She talks, but sometimes there's no sound, and when there is sound, it's a gruff lower version of her voice.
She didn't know me at first. J said she recognises people, but she didn't seem to know me. I told her who I was. She smiled and asked me, "What do you have on the docket today?" I had to get her to repeat it before I understood what she'd asked. And then I felt guilty for making her repeat anything. And guilty for feeling and allowing myself to look upset, because I didn't want to upset her. She lapsed back into what J referred to as "her restful state," and I stood there for a while and watched her breathe. J told me to keep talking to her, but I had no idea what to say, and I was fully engrossed in trying to hear anything that she might say in her sleep. "I'm tired" and "it's not working." And I think hypoglycemia was kicking in, because my vision was getting spotty.
I heard a man's voice asking for room 675, and when I turned around uncle J and his girlfriend G were talking to one of the staff--a woman informing them that only two people could see Nana at one time. I vacated, and aunt J was close behind me. F was in the hallway outside the ICU doors, and he asked J if we'd been to see Nana and who was there now? The two of them made faces about uncle J's girlfriend being there, and then aunt J led the way back to the waiting room. F and N had brought their sons, though F didn't seem very happy about it. They asked me about the robbery, where I'm living, and then seemed to be done with me. So I plugged my cell phone into an outlet and called my mother.
I told her who was there, and what I knew, which wasn't--and still isn't--much. C and A came back into the room, but didn't notice me for a while. Then C did, and I motioned that I was still on the phone with my mother--and, regardless, I didn't want to talk to him anyway. And when I was done talking to her, I slipped away to the bathroom. From the bathroom, I made a beeline for the elevators, and out to the Longwood food-court to assuage my hunger and avoid my relatives.
Something completely different: some things that make me laugh ...
"The Return of Mr. Gosh" - I was inspired to look this up by an LJ friend's recent post.
"Magic Muffin" - whenever I see muffins, I think of the comic, and the following animated version ...
11 March 2008
in which I am become a human pin cushion
I've been mostly dead since yesterday. I woke up feeling awful all over--and I'm still not sure if it was food poisoning or something more serious. I still felt terrible this morning, but decided to shower before making any kind of call about it. Weighing it over in my mind, and the fact that I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon anyway, I was leaning toward staying home. When the water turned cold and I started getting the shakes, that pushed the lean to a full decision.
Back to bed.
My appointment was for 1600, but I decided to leave here at 1400, because I wasn't sure I'd find the office right away, as I'd never been there before. As a normal and reasonable person might've guessed, I arrived way too early.
And when I finally got in, the doctor pretty much signed me up for everything after I told her that it had been over three years since I'd had a physical. Read on for things that fall into the TMI category ...
Pap smear--UGH, and no more need be said; the first in three doses of the HPV vaccine in the right shoulder; the Diphtheria, Tetanus, and Pertussis vaccines in the left shoulder; and three vials of blood for lab work from the inside of my left elbow.
After it was all over, I walked home, because fresh air seemed to be the order of the day. The sun was out, the temperature was comfortable.
And now I'm watching General Hospital and will probably spend the evening watching Grey's Anatomy and No Country for Old Men.
29 February 2008
unstuck in time
Michelle drove me to St. E's last night, and now my stitches are out.
Between going there and coming back, the whole process took about an hour, and by the time we got home, Lost was halfway through. So, rather than starting in the middle and rewinding later, I took a shower and waited for the whole episode to finish recording.
I really enjoyed "The Constant"--yes, sappy tearful ending and all (in fact, I did cry when Desmond finally got Penny on the phone). I took the whole as tribute to Kurt Vonnegut--Slaughterhouse Five particularly--except that the result (at present, anyway) seems much happier for Desmond Hume than for Billy Pilgrim. And I want Desmond's part of the story to have a good ending, though it doesn't appear that he's one of "the Oceanic 6"; I'm so sick of losing the characters that I actually like.
And then my VCR clipped off the ending (because ABC's schedule always seems to run a little off whenever they run two episodes of Lost back-to-back). So today I went in search of the last sixty seconds of the episode to find out what Daniel was reading in his journal.
"If anything goes wrong, Desmond Hume will be my constant."
The character Daniel Faraday is sort of adorable in a grown-up-stoner kind of way. The episode trailers always make whatever he says seem mysterious and vaguely threatening; but when I hear the lines again in the episodes' contexts, he just sounds dazed and confused all the time.
Also watched Torchwood's "A Day in the Death" before going to the hospital. I want to care about Owen, but ... meh? Next week's episode looks exciting.
On another topic, a realty agent sent me an email last weekend (I think my parents have been submitting my name and email), to which I responded at my leisure--with the full story of "taking my time, seeing what's out there, p.s. have a snowboard injury and indisposed for a bit." She's now sent me a list of properties and wants to know when I'd be free to see some of them.
This all feels far too grown up for me.
But I wonder if my aunt still wants me to visit this weekend; because, if not ... a few open-houses could be fun.
28 February 2008
presents
Hayley sent me the second season of Lost on DVD, and it has, as she suggested, kept me out of trouble so far. I love the commentaries.
Caroline gifted me with a giant wrist brace. It's kind of perfect for my purposes. It immobilises my thumb, but the rest of my fingers are free and clear. Writing with a pen or pencil is still mostly impossible, but typing is significantly easier.
Page-turning is still a pain.
26 February 2008
this is how I convalesce
I probably should've stayed home again, but one never likes to use sick days when one is actually sick. Where's the fun in that?
Typing is still an issue, but at the moment I'm managing to stabilise my thumb while maintaining the use of most of my four fingers. And of course it's my right hand, because I have to inconvenience myself as much as possible.
How did I do this?
Snowboarding. Naturally.
I was doing so well for the first three hours that I was emboldened to press my luck on a green trail (which isn't a black diamond, but I still wasn't really ready for it--clearly). I had a few initial falls--and in one of them sprained my thumb, which I didn't notice until something worse happened.
Then, continuing down the hill, a woman and her son began to veer in front of me. I tried to avoid them, and I did it so well that I fucked myself up instead. The front edge caught on the snow and down I went, face-plant against the hill.
Immediate headache. I could taste blood before I saw it, and then I thought it was coming from my nose. But the woman had turned around and was saying, "No, no, it's your head!" Great. She handed me lots of tissues and asked me a few pointed questions to make sure that I still had all my wits, then flagged down one of the ski patrol--who asked me all the same questions all over again. The woman had me describe my friends, since Lindsay and her friend Matt weren't far off, and she went to find them while her large Irish friend and the ski patrol man stayed with me to wait for more ski patrol people to arrive.
Lindsay and Matt trudged back up the hill to find out what had happened, and more patrol people came around.
And then one of the patrol-- "Do you think you can go down on your own?" I don't think anyone thought that was a good idea except for him. (Lindsay, later: "Was he on crack?") Instead, they packed me into a sled, wrapped up in yellow canvas like a mummy and shuttled me down the hill to the infirmary.
Those things look fun until you actually need them, by the way. Then, they're deeply embarrassing.
The EMS workers re-bandaged me (they'd done a make-shift job of it on the hill), and advised that I go to the ER. So Lindsay and Matt went to get stuff from the lockers while I sat around with a plastic bag of snow pressed to my head. Then we walked to Lindsay's car, but somewhere between the EMT station and the parking space, Lindsay's car key went missing. Awesome, right?
Lindsay was carrying all my stuff and didn't look very keen to go back looking, so I volunteered and went off. I retraced our steps back to the infirmary, but didn't find them, so I walked into the Lost & Found. L&F woman: "What happened to you?!" Me: "I fell, and I'm supposed to go to the ER, but my friend can't find her keys." But no keys had been turned in yet for the day, so I wandered back outside ... with the L&F woman following me, though I didn't know it yet. And Lindsay had come back from the parking lot and was standing in the path between the EMT station building and the Lost & Found looking for me and the keys.
I was dazed and upset and embarrassed, so pulled down my sunglasses and dragged my hood over my head. And Lindsay was turning to go back into the infirmary when the L&F woman appeared behind us and was asking if she should take me to the ER instead. And we must have been making a scene, because one of the Cliff Bar employees (who were skiing all over the hill offering free samples to whoever would take one) came over and asked what we were looking for--if it was a black key on a short leather strap, because he had found one and only just turned it in at Lost & Found.
Awesome. Hysteria averted.
North Conway's Memorial Hospital is five minutes down the road from Cranmore, so it didn't take long to get there--good, considering how long the line in the waiting room was. We got there at 1300 and we wouldn't leave until around 1830.
The wait was long, but the staff was nice. A nurse gave me a fresh pack of ice for my head, and Lindsay and I sat in the waiting room playing the name game (pick a letter of the alphabet and either gender and recite as many names as you can think of that begin with that letter)--dull but distracting. And I needed distracting since the headache wouldn't let up for a minute.
When they finally let me through it was about 1645, and it was to a reclining chair next to the utility closet in a room already occupied by two other patients. We didn't know how long I'd be sitting there, so Lindsay went to Walmart to pick up Scategories, but not before I sent her to the car to retrieve Dragonfly In Amber for me.
I was reading and one of the nurses came to check on me. I told her about my headache and she asked if I would take anything for it. I was afraid of the blood-thinning aspect, but she assured me that what they had would be all right. Then, she went off.
My back was to the door, when, out of the corner of my left eye I saw crutches edge up beside me. This was my doctor. She introduced herself and had me peel back the edge of the bandage on my head to see what she was dealing with. Yes to stitches and yes to a CAT scan. She asked if anything else was bothering me, and I told her about my hand, which hadn't been bothering me until I attempted to sign my signature on the admittance papers in the waiting room. Another yes to an x-ray for my hand.
Then she hobbled off and the nurse returned--with a Vicodin and some water. Vicodin? Seriously? Who watches too much House? Oh, right, I do.
I picked up my book again, but I didn't get to read much before another woman came around to take me to do the x-ray and the head scan. The x-ray was honestly the most grueling part. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I was shivering, so it was hard to keep my hand perfectly still when it wasn't firmly braced against the table.
The head scan ... getting all the jewelry off and out of my head took a few minutes, a sprained hand not making it much easier. And when it was over, the woman escorted me back to my room--where one of the beds had been vacated, and Lindsay had returned--as promised, with Scategories. The timer didn't come with batteries, so we played on the room clock and waited for the scans to come back from Radiology.
And on that note, can anyone think of an article of clothing that begins with the letter I? All I could come up with is "instep"--the inner part of a shoe, but I don't even think it counts.
After twenty or thirty minutes the doctor came hobbling back into the room with a clean bill of health. Stitches time. A male orderly wheeled in the cart with all the stitching supplies, and Lindsay and I were still musing over an article of clothing that might begin with an I. Neither the doctor nor the orderly could think of anything either.
It was about this time when I started feeling particularly embarrassed about the whole situation all over again--and said as much to the doctor. She told me her story was more idiotic than mine. So I finally asked her about her crutches as she was prepping me for stitches. She had been trying to reach something on a high shelf while standing on a swivel stool. The stool went one way and she the other, and her ankle folded under her.
The doctor was rubbing a local anesthetic in the laceration when Lindsay asked if she could call Nancy on my phone. I couldn't remember where I'd put the phone, only that it was on the bed somewhere and waved in that vague direction. Lindsay found it and began to mess with it as the doctor began to stitch me. Except that Lindsay couldn't find Nancy's number, nor the call history. She has the same phone I do, only hers is a first generation, and mine is relatively new.
So I took the phone back and, in the glare of the surgical lights, and with the doctor stitching my forehead, I looked through the old incoming calls, found, and dialed Nancy's number and handed the phone back off... I'm a good multi-tasker.
There were only five stitches, so it didn't take too long, and the local anesthetic was quite effective. By the time Lindsay was through talking to Nancy, the doctor had finished and was putting a bandage over the stitches. After a while the male orderly came back in and wrapped up my hand in gauze and an ace bandage. He also came with my release papers and a prescription for pain-killers--more Vicodin, yay! And then I was good to go.
15 February 2008
12 February 2008
V for ...
Stephen is my hero.
Now I just want a .gif Stephen icon that says, "I teach Sunday School, motherfucker."
Lem leads me to the fun news.
Anonymous vs. Scientology
07 February 2008
"We can't stop here--"
I was considering the tagline for the 1971 version of Willard, and I'm thinking it's good that Romney goes by Mitt instead.
"Where your nightmares end... WILLARD begins. [P.S. Vote Romney 2008!]"
Yeah.
...
No.
Does Mitt have a crazy friend named Ben, because that would also be awesome. Ooh! Wait! What was the name of his campaign helper who posed as a policeman?
Darn. His name is Jay.
Oh, well. We'll work with it.
11 January 2008
books and movies -- lists
Begun: 11. January 2008
Last update: 30. May 2008
Listing new books read:
Books
01. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
02. Fables: Wolves by Bill Willingham
03. The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter
04. The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters
05. Lady of the Forest by Jennifer Roberson
06. Watership Down by Richard Adams
07. The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
08. Morality Play by Barry Unsworth
09. Finder by Emma Bull
10. Long Hot Summoning by Tanya Huff
11. Dragonfly In Amber by Diana Gabaldon
12. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett
13. The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett
14. Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett
15. Mort by Terry Pratchett
16. Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay
17. Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay
18. Dead Sexy (Garnet Lacey, Book 2) by Tate Hallaway
19. From Dead to Worse by Charlaine Harris
20. Twilight (The Twilight Saga, Book 1) by Stephenie Meyer
21. The Good Fairies of New York by Martin Millar
currently reading: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
09 January 2008
cold pool
Of intimacy ...
Intimacy is a cold swimming pool. I dread it, and there's no comfortable way to ease into it. Either you dive in and get it over with, or you stand there and dread the cold. And getting out of it is just as bad. And sometimes you get swimmer's ear.
Intimacy and swimming pools.
I am more me
Type summary here.
Everyone's doing this: Belief-o-Matic
1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Neo-Paganism (99%)
3. Secular Humanism (80%)
4. New Age-ism (79%)
5. Liberal Quakerism (75%)
6. Mahayana Buddhism (74%)
7. Theravada Buddhism (70%)
8. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestantism (62%)
9. Reform Judaism (60%)
10. New Thought (55%)
11. Scientology (53%)
12. Hinduism (52%)
13. Nontheism (49%)
14. Taoism (46%)
15. Sikhism (45%)
16. Jainism (44%)
17. Orthodox Quakerism (41%)
18. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (40%)
19. Bahá'à Faith (38%)
20. Orthodox Judaism (23%)
21. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormonism) (21%)
22. Islam (20%)
23. Mainline to Conservative Christianity/Protestantism (14%)
24. Seventh Day Adventism (14%)
25. Jehovah's Witness (12%)
26. Eastern Orthodox (11%)
27. Roman Catholicism (11%)
I thought Secular Humanism would be at the top of the list, but my ambivalence involving the notion of deity is probably revealed by my answers to a lot of the multi-check questions.
Unitarian Universalism -- The United Church of *Shrug*
As for the Quakers bit ... Yeah, I'm not sure. It was probably the fact that on the "good deeds and compassion" question, I rated my answer as "high." But, on a second round there are other answers I would've listed as "high" that I didn't. Oh, well. I can always re-take the silly thing.
[edit: Re-taken, with no great changes, really. Secular Humanism, New Age, and Liberal Quakers have played musical chairs a bit. Roman Catholicism is still last, in spite of--or maybe because of--its being my introduction to world religion. I also altered the titles, because they were bothering me; some of them are still bothering me. Faiths deserve nouns--not adjectives being treated as nouns.]
02 January 2008
right of way?
30. December 2007
Dead of night, empty road, Raleigh, NC. Company: Me, H, B, and J. I start crossing the street.
J: "Push the button, Ri!"
No, I'm pretty sick of you already, and I'm not going to listen to you now.
Me: "Why should I? No one is coming."
J: "Because you're jay-walking..."
Hi, I'm from a real city. We jay-walk all the time. It's not a felony. It's not even a misdemeanor. It might the most minor traffic violation anyone can commit. And it's a moot point when there's no on-coming traffic.
Me: "No one is coming, and I do this all the time."
J: "You can get a ticket for that here."
H: "She's from Boston."
J: "Well, here you wait for traffic."
Of which there is none. There aren't any cops either to hand out this hypothetical ticket. Where are they? Oh, right. Looking for drunk drivers.
Me: "You do know that pedestrians have the right of way, right?"
J: "No they don't. Not here."
Me: "Umm, I'm pretty sure they do..."
In point of fact, the NC Driver's Handbook is a piece of shit when it comes to discussing what pedestrians can or can't do. It's a 150-word section in a book that spends 50% of its pages discussing the point system for revoking one's license. There's nothing about jay-walking or anything else. Basically the message one gets as a pedestrian is: Good luck! Don't get hit!
People in NC aren't encouraged to walk, apparently (as well as obviously, judging the obesity level within the state).
To read this woefully vague scrap of tripe: Driver's Handbook.
Enjoy!
22 December 2007
if at first you don't succeed
I'll be trying again tomorrow morning.
My flight's scheduled take-off is for 1130 or 1145 with an ETA of 1330 or 1400. Hopefully, it actually happens this time.
I went to see Sweeney Todd yesterday at around mid-day.
I had my doubts about the singing, but I was most pleasantly surprised. The acting talent involved were more than equal to their singing parts. Also, as
The colour scheme is typical Burton--varying gray tones with brilliant splashes of colour where they will make the most impact. What sticks out in my mind most is Sacha Baron Cohen's jewel-tone blue ensemble. As per the usual, Cohen makes a hilarious spectacle of himself.
I do have a complaint or two with where they left certain of the story arcs. Benjamin Barker and his wife Lucy have a daughter, and a ship boy falls in love with her, but we don't really see how that turns out. Without giving away more than necessary, Sweeney mistakes her for a boy and nearly kills her, and that's the last we see of her before the credits roll. I just would have been happier to see some kind of resolution there. Granted, I didn't expect any kind of happy Father-Daughter reunion between Sweeney and Johanna--Sweeney is way too far gone for him to resume any normal sort of lifestyle--but I would have like to see how the young romance between the girl and the ship boy turned out.
It's one of Tim Burton's gorier achievements, I must say. To give you an idea, it's rated R, but there's no excessive cursing or sexuality. The rating is specifically due to the violence.
After the movie, I walked down to my office to pick up my pay checks, and talked with the skeleton crew. I had to clear up my time-sheet with Zina, and we got to talking about movies. I told her that I intended to go see The Golden Compass ... Zina's response: "Oh, you don't want to see that! It's all about atheism!"
Yeah, I don't care. That really doesn't bother me.
I went to see it today. And, apart from the mouth-breathing cud-chewers sitting behind me, it was a fun time.
Also, I wouldn't really classify the movie as being "all about atheism." It really isn't. It's more anti-establishment--of all kinds, which I suppose could include religion, government, and society--than atheistic. The movie is really about the individual's capacity for free choice versus outside control over the individual's thoughts and actions; and the message of Christianity places a decent emphasis on making choices, choosing right from wrong, etc. So, I don't know, maybe I'm being naive, but I don't know what the fuss is all about.
It's an exciting, fun movie--and it uses CGI in a way that actually doesn't make me want to kill the producers (please see Zemeckis).
21 December 2007
no luck
At the suggestion of the woman who re-ticketed me yesterday evening, I called Delta this morning to see if anything sooner than Sunday had opened up.
No.
Well, they thought there was something for tomorrow at 0700, but then they realised that it was already overbooked.
So still no.
I really won't be getting out of here until Sunday. ... OK, time to go shower, dress, and T myself to the movies for the day.
Johnny Depp, Alan Rickman, and Daniel Craig will make life less crappy.
20 December 2007
angry, stuck, alone
Maybe I'll feel more like talking about it tomorrow, but I doubt it.
Suffice to say, my flight was cancelled. So I'm in Boston until Sunday at least. Frankly, I'm debating cancelling the ticket entirely and staying here for the holidays. I'm really angry right now, and I doubt I'd make good company.
So I'm not going to work tomorrow.
I'm going to the movies.
And I'm going to see The Golden Compass and Sweeney Todd, and that's how it's going to be.
a Christmas meme
Everyone else is doing it.
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? I will say wrapping paper, though I've been known to use gift bags in a pinch. Really, if I have the time and opportunity, I will wrap every present. College and life in an apartment turned me lazy for several reasons--one, "I can't find the paper;" two, "I'm all out of scotch tape;" three, "hey, look, here's this bag I've been keeping around for no particular reason." And so it goes.
2. Real tree or artificial? Real. I understand the aggravation of prickly trees, having had a few in the past, but that's why you don't choose the prickly kind and go for a Blue Douglas or something with the short and blunt needles.
3. When do you put up the tree? It was very touch and go with my parents. Sometimes it's right after Thanksgiving. Sometimes it's the weekend before Christmas.
4. When do you take the tree down? Whenever it starts to look peaky. Mid- to late-January?
5. Do you like eggnog? Yes, and all the available flavours, too.
6. Favourite gift received as a child? My parents like to tell me that I was most excited about the 3-foot high Big Bird when I was three years old. In recent years, my Mac and my first iPod.
7. Do you have a nativity scene? My parents have a wee one that my father picked up in Germany during Weihnachten. It was made by wood craftsmen there, features dowel-people and trees with leaves made from wood shavings. It's actually very interesting. Maybe I'll take a picture when I visit.
8. Hardest person to buy for? My mom. Because the things she wants are very general, but she's very fussy about the specifics of these general items.
9. Easiest person to buy for? My friends, generally. They appreciate the notion of "wish lists."
10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don't know. There have been things I wasn't wild about, but nothing noteworthy. It's corny, but it's the thought that counts.
11. Mail or email Christmas cards? I'm not one to judge. I'm HORRIBLE about casual correspondence, period.
12. Favourite Christmas Movie? Like my friend Nicole, I love Home Alone. I also love the second Home Alone, Lost in New York (mostly due to Tim Curry -- "We love you!"). Lately, I've had the urge to watch The Santa Clause, and today we were talking about it at our staff meeting (because I work with a bunch of parents, holy crap). OOH! Other favourite Christmas movie? The Ref:Mary Chasseur: Maybe they'll catch him, and then let him go in the spirit of Christmas ...
Connie Chasseur: That is not the spirit of Christmas --The spirit of Christmas is either you're good -- or you're punished and you burn in hell.
Who would catch a criminal, and then let him go free?
Mary Chasseur: Republicans?
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? December, usually. This year, I will be shopping this weekend.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? I don't think so, and that sounds pretty gauche to me.
15. Favourite thing to eat at Christmas? Of the non-baked-good variety? Lasagna. And clam dip. Mmmmmm. Clam dip. And mashed 'taters, if they're around. I heart mashed 'taters (as the inches on my waist can attest).
16. Clear lights or coloured on the tree? Coloured. Blinking or not, it's all good. If they're blinking, though, I might stare at the tree for a long long time. Because I am easily-distracted by shinies.
17. Favourite Christmas song? "Greensleeves," which, honestly, if you read the lyrics, hasn't got much to do with Christmas. I also have a slew of records that I like to keep in rotation at my parents' house. Elvis, The Nutcracker, Rainbow Brite Christmas, Cabbage Patch Christmas, Sinatra, and the list goes on. Mostly, I become addicted to The Nutcracker, though. ... And not just any rendition of The Nutcracker, either. It has to be this version:
18. Stay home or travel for Christmas? Traveling to my parents' home.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen; Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen, but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all? Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer ... etc. So, yes.
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? We have both. It looks dumb.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? One the night before. The rest in the morning.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? People. Everywhere.
Yay for wasting time.
19 December 2007
saved by the UK
I love Hot Chip. Or maybe I just love Hot Chip's "Over & Over" ... YES.
I've loved this song since, oh, last Fall. And I still love it. I can hear it every day and it makes me happy. Kind of like The Automatic's "Monster."
Both songs make me think of Torchwood, which is maybe a good portion of the happiness--and, right now especially, the antici- ... -pation (who loves Rocky Horror? oh, right--I do). The new Torchwood season begins next month, and the Doctor Who Christmas special is right around the corner.
Hey, we all need things to look forward to. Me, I look forward to new David Tennant and John Barrowman fixes from the BBC during Hollywood's woeful dry spell. (PAY THE WRITERS NOW, PLEASE. KTHXBYE.)
What else is on my mind this morning? Politics.
Television and politics--well, it works for Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.
Mostly, I'm just a little irritated by a web site that I was invited to look at. They're polling the public for the 2008 Presidential race, but they've excluded Ron Paul from the polls, and make a big [highly animated] point of letting everyone know this up front. It's not that I even like Ron Paul. I'm not going to be voting for him, because I think he's an idiot. At this point, I'm so disgusted with all of them, I might do a write-in (that won't be counted, because individual votes don't really count for beans in the US Presidential race, if we're really being honest about it).
But I think the owner of the site is a bigger idiot for excluding Paul. If you're really interested in clean poll results, you won't exclude any candidate, no matter how much you dislike him or his followers. If you're not interested in clean poll results, why take the time to create a web site devoted just to the poll? Isn't it a waste of time and energy for something that doesn't really matter to you?
OK. End irritable ramble.
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