Tag Archives: movies

2011 Goals – An Update

Picture I made for my goals article

Image via Wikipedia


That’s the update.

Half the year done, and I haven’t done JACK.

Let’s go over the list, shall we?

Work on being a better photographer.  I’ve barely taken any pictures, those I have taken have been on my cell phone, and I haven’t charged my digital camera in months.

Strive to write every day.  I wasn’t doing well with this one previously, but in the last three or four weeks I’ve been doing better.  I have been writing every day.  And I feel much better.

Delightfully Happy blog – now defunct.  I really wanted to succeed with this one, but I just couldn’t keep it up.  Not because I couldn’t find something to be happy about every day, but because I had so much going on I didn’t have time to post.  I kept a list in MS Word for a while, hoping to post as I had time, but I got so far behind I finally gave up.

Do not keep Netflix movies longer than 2 weeks.  Miserable fail.  I’ve had one for at least two months, I swear.  But now, with Netflix’s new pricing, I soon won’t have any DVDs from Netflix to keep, so…Win?

Use new veggies.  Um, yeah.  I did Baby Eggplant.  And I think I did another veggie.  But yet another massive fail.

Watch more hockey.  Fail.

Visit 5 places in the 1000 Places to See Before You Die list.  Nada.  Yet.  I plan on going to Charleston in a couple of months.  I looked into the Spoleto Festival, and it wasn’t quite what I expected (or was interested in, to be honest).

Watch movies from the AFI list.  Count:  0

Read 12 books from the BBC 100 List.  Now, I did try, I swear.  I read Wuthering Heights, and hated every second of it.  Then I tried reading Love in the time of Cholera, and I wanted to dig my eyeballs out so I couldn’t read it anymore.  I didn’t finish.  And that’s when I gave up.  (Although, I have started reading Pride and Prejudice, and am so far enjoying it.)

Overall, as you can tell, massive fail.  But I did so well last year – do I get credit for that?

How are you doing on your 2001 resolutions and goals?

Random Online Fun

I’ve mentioned my love for Metafilter before, and I’ll mention it again.  🙂

Here are some fun items I’ve run across in my catch-up from the last few weeks:

40 Things that will make you feel old.  No, really, this is a different list!  The Macarena is 16 years old!

Living in 258 square feet.  Pretty smart, actually, and I’m considering doing a dining table like his.  Also, I have one of those Carrefour bags that he pulls out 5:30 in!

Sci-Fi movies with Ikea instructions.  Gave me a good giggle.

And finally, for your viewing pleasure:  Pendulum waves.  Puts the Bellagio Fountain to shame:

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights – The Movie

I just read Wuthering Heights, and I hated almost every minute of it.  I also watched the 1970 version of the movie, with Timothy Dalton, and found it…equally as painful, and not much like the book.  I read that this version of the movie was “generally accepted,” and since I found both this movie and the book painful, I could agree with that.

For some reason, I was eager to torture myself further, so I ordered the 1992 movie adaptation, entitled Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche.  According to wikipedia, this version “is notable for including the oft-omitted second generation story”  of Cathy Linton and Hareton.

Watching it, I was reminded that I was incorrect in my original review of the book.  I said that the only character I liked was young Cathy, but I was wrong.

I loved Hareton.

I forgot about Hareton, in my original review.  I felt sorry for the poor kid, throughout the book, and toward the end, I had a little soft spot for him.  It was quite obvious he was infatuated with young Cathy, in the way that the kid who pulls a girl’s pigtails is.  He wanted so much to please her, to make her like him, and when she rebuffed him, he reacted as if he didn’t care.

But he did.

Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights captured that, and reminded me:

I *heart* Hareton.

Screw Heathcliff.

If Wuthering Heights had a redeeming quality, it would be Hareton.  He’s the early 19th Century version of Lloyd Dobler.

Take off your moccasins

Screenshot of Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn fr...

Image via Wikipedia

One of my all time favorite movies is Charade, with Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. In it, they have this great exchange, where Hepburn’s character is trying to determine if Grant’s character is trustworthy:

REGGIE (Hepburn): Alex, how can you tell if anyone’s lying or not?

DYLE (Grant): You can’t.

R: There must be some way.

D: There’s an old riddle about two tribes of Indians. The Whitefeet always tell the truth and the Blackfeet always lie. So one day you meet an Indian, you say, “Hey Indian, what are you, a truthful Whitefoot or a lying Blackfoot?” He says, “I’m a truthful Whitefoot.” But which is he?

R: Why couldn’t you just look at his feet?

D: Because he’s wearing moccasins.

R: Well then he’s a truthful Whitefoot, of course.

D: Why not a lying Blackfoot?

R: Which one are you?

D: A truthful Whitefoot.

Of course, you (along with Reggie) have to wonder if he is. After all, wouldn’t a lying Blackfoot say the same thing?

There’s actually a longer brain teaser (scroll down about a third of the way down the page) about lying Blackfeet and truthful Whitefeet. It involves a professor at a fork in the road trying to get to a village, and he doesn’t want to get lost, but how can he trust the answer he gets from the native in front of him?

The point is, how do you know who you can trust? And rarely are humans entirely truthful nor are there people who lie all the time, regardless of the fact that we say, “If his mouth is moving, he’s lying.” So then the questions multiply – Is he trustworthy? Is what he is saying the truth?

Can you ever really know for sure?

Are you a truthful Whitefoot or a lying Blackfoot? Take off your moccasins, please.

(I couldn’t embed video, but here’s the clip from Charade.  You can also view the movie in it’s entirety on youtube.)

Ghosts of boyfriends past

Photo by katmere

I got a call yesterday on a job I had applied for last week.  I had a brief phone interview with a woman who I think was HR, because she said she was going to “resubmit” my resume to the hiring manager, and I may or may not get a call back for an interview.  Great news, right?

Here’s the bad news.  The office is literally directly across the street from my ex-boyfriend’s house.  You could probably see his house from the office.

Why do we attach so much emotion to things like this?  Like, where we met someone, or where we had our first kiss, or what we ate on our 49th date?  Why do we have places we can’t go to because they remind us of that person?

ABC Restaurant is just a restaurant.  I’ve been there a million times.  In fact, I’ve been there with at least 5 different guys.  So why is it that whenever I go there, I think of Mr. X?  I’ve watched XYZ TV show for years, since before Mr. X and I started dating and broke up.  So why do I think of him every time I watch it?  I’ve tied my shoes by myself since I was 6 years old.  Why does tying them now make me think of Mr. X?  (These are basic example, people, not necessarily my specific experiences.  I don’t actually think of my ex when I tie my shoe, okay?)

And it’s not even that everything makes you think of your most recent ex.  I think of my college boyfriend any time I go to the zoo.  I think of Colorado Boyfriend every time it snows.  I think of one of my high school boyfriends every time I eat fortune cookies.  I think of Soccer Guy every time I see his college’s emblem…which is the same college my last ex supported, so why would I attach it to a guy I dated 6 years ago and not to the most recent one?

We attach memories to things, places, foods, smells, songs, thoughts.  Then those memories haunt us.  Why?  Why do this to ourselves, why let these things have that much control over us?

And it’s not just exes!  It’s parents, and grandparents, and siblings, and kids, and friends, and jobs.  Some memories are good, some are bad.  Some make you smile through tears, of either joy or sorrow, and some make you want to rip your heart out so you can just stop thinking about them.

Yeah, a little Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind wouldn’t be so bad, on occasion.

What things have memories attached to them in your life?  Do the memories make you smile or cringe?  What have you done to get past those memories?

Age has nothing to do with being an adult

I recently spent the day with a friend of mine, a friend who’s been having some boy troubles.  Her boy troubles are not similar to mine, but they are.  I don’t want to get too far into her problems, because it would be a horrible betrayal of confidence, but let’s just say her “boy” doesn’t want to be monogamous, but he keeps dragging her back into this nasty little storm of his making.

So we spent the day together, shopping, going to the Farmer’s Market, having lunch, and she asks me to stay for dinner and a movie.

lars and the real girl

Image by mandyseyfang via Flickr

We were watching Lars and the Real Girl, and there’s this part where Lars asks his brother how he knew he was a man, an adult.  And his brother, Gus, says, “Well, it’s not like you’re one thing or the other, okay? There’s still a kid inside but you grow up when you decide to do right, okay, and not what’s right for you, what’s right for everybody, even when it hurts.” Lars asks, “Okay, like what?” And Gus replies, “Like, you know, like, you don’t jerk people around, you know, and you don’t cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, you know, and you admit when you’re wrong, or you try to, anyways. That’s all I can think of, you know – it sound like it’s easy and for some reason it’s not.”

I blinked at the TV, floored.  I started to say something, but stopped myself.  And three seconds later, my friend says, “Wow.”

You grow up when you decide to do right, not for you but for everybody else, even when it hurts.  You grow up when you don’t jerk people around, and you don’t cheat on your woman, and you take care of your family, and you admit when you’re wrong.

It sounds so simple.  But “for some reason it’s not.”

The Bechdel Test

I wish I could tell you which issue of Skirt I found this in, but I can’t.  I know it was recent, that’s all I can tell you.  There was a small little blurb about the Bechdel Test, a three part test to see if you should see a movie:

  1. Are there two or more female characters with names?
  2. Do they talk to each other?
  3. If they talk to each other, do they talk about something other than a man?

Some big surprises, actually.  (There’s a list of them online here, along with some additional information.)

Movies that pass:

  • The Exorcist
  • Sixteen Candles
  • Mermaids
  • Thelma & Louise (big surprise there!)
  • Love Actually

Movies that do not pass:

  • Blazing Saddles
  • Real Genius
  • When Harry Met Sally
  • Princess Bride
  • Casablanca
  • Serenity

One movie that didn’t pass, according to this list, and I’m calling bullshit on:  Steel Magnolias.  Really?  The women do talk to each other about things other than men.  Don’t they?

Random Update

  • Well, a friend of mine did some work on my main computer, so I’m able to use it again.  Time to get caught up on my blog reading!  🙂  We’ll see how long it lasts.  He recommended I get more RAM, so it’s on order, and once it comes in…well, we’ll see if my 6 year old laptop can hold on a couple more years.  Meanwhile he loaded Firefox for web purposes, and…I’m not sold.  Anyone hate/love firefox?
  • I want to see Vampires Suck.  It looks entirely too funny to miss.  Of course, that will wait for redbox one boring night.
  • As much as I dislike Eminem (the guy has ISSUES), I’m loving his two new releases.  He’s catchy as hell.
  • Recent movies watched:  According to Greta (Ellen Burstyn helps elevate the movie, which stars Hilary Duff), Leap Year (eh), The Time Traveler’s Wife (eh – also, Rachel McAdams needs to eat a hamburger.  In the scene when they first have sex, and she gets out of bed and you can see her naked back, you can see each and every one of her ribs and vertebrae – to the point I thought it was part of the story line, it was so emphasized.)
  • Trying to decide if I want to go to the beach in November.  I figured it would be good to get away and write (doing NaNoWriMo again this year!).  But then, my friends said they might go to the Bahamas.  So, do I want to go to the Warm Bahamas and have fun with friends or the Cool Carolina Beach to “check out”?  Decisions, decisions…
  • Trying to decide what to do today. Have the day off, considering going to the zoo down the road, or becoming a tourist in my own city.  Hmm…
  • LoveLoveLove the song “Sometime Around Midnight” by Airborne Toxic Event.  I liked it when it originally came out, kind of forgot about it, and heard it again the other day at work and fell in love again.  (Geauxgirl, can you get that on Rock Band?)

The Middle

Yes, I know I already have a post entitled “The Middle.”  This is a different kind of post, and it’s really the only title it could have.

Hope Floats was on today, and I flipped it on just for some noise in the background.  And that’s when I remembered how much I love this movie.  I seem to love it even more every time I watch it.  I remember the first time I saw it, I cried the most when Bernice’s dad drove away from her, crying her heart out for him to take her with him.  But now, the part that kills me the most is when Birdee goes to visit her dad, and he has Alzheimer’s, and she’s just talking to him, and then they start dancing.  Tears.

My favorite part, though, is at the very end.  Sandra Bullock does a voiceover:

Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most.  You need to remember that when you find yourself at the beginning.  Just give hope a chance to float up.

It’s funny, because that’s almost in direct opposition to one of my current favorite songs, “The Middle,” by Jimmy Eat World.  The song is more about getting through the middle, rather than reveling in it.

It just takes some time,

Little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride.

Everything, everything will be just fine,

Everything, everything will be all right.


So, which is it?  Is The Middle the best part, or the worst part?  Is it something to savor, or something to endure?

I suppose it depends on what you’re in the middle of

Team Jacob, but not Team Taylor

My friend geauxgirl sent me a blog post from author Jen Lancaster the other day that made me laugh out loud.  She went to see New Moon, and the only people in the theater were women in their 30s and 40s.  When the character of Jacob took off his shirt, all the women gasped, then laughed, “and suddenly every Cougar for Cullen in that room started doing the kind of math that does not lead to any answer other than shame and possible jail time.” 

I read all the Twilight books, and New Moon was by far my favorite, so I was looking forward to seeing the movie.  I’ve been on “Team Jacob” all along.  (Hm, pasty skinny pale cold as marble chest vs. yummy muscled searing hot cut chest…let me think…)  I’d seen that Jacob Lautner had bulked up for the new film, and I was thinking he was looking pretty hot.  Not in a statutory rape kind of way, just in a…hell, have you seen him?

I had yesterday off and decided to see New Moon with the cougars, rather than the tweens.  And I really enjoyed it.  I think they did a good job.  Robert Pattinson is growing on me as Edward, and Taylor lived up to my expectations, bod-wise.  Kristin Stewart, I’ve thought all along, is perfect as Bella.  The only part I cringed at was the first appearance of a wolf.  The wolf was not…believable.  After that first appearance, it wasn’t as bad, although I don’t know if it was just that it was less noticable after the first time. 

But here is the surprise.  Unless he’s smiling and good-natured, Taylor does nothing for me, face-wise.  I just want to cut him off at the neck and paste someone else’s face on the body.  When he smiles, though, I think he looks quite a bit like Matt Damon.  I think it’s the smile.  And that’s when I really *heart* him.  Not in an icky “he’s underage” way, but in a “he’s so darn cute how can you not love him” way.