Has anyone seen that film? 2010? The "sequel" to 2001? I actually liked it a lot lot better than 2001. Some may cry foul that it tries to explain 2001 too much, but if you're like me and do not like 2001 (but respect it), then it's a fun little "Oh, I see!" sorta thing.
Here's what I saw in 2010, and kinda sorta thought was cool.
In no real order.
- Toy Story 3 - I don't need to explain this one.
- The Town - Man, BAffleck! Stop surprising me with your filmmaking prowess.
- Inception - I was thinking about it for days afterwards, and talked about it even longer.
- Scott Pilgrim vs. The World - Razzle dazzle!
- The Social Network - A writer's wet dream.
- RED - I hear it departs from the book quite a bit, but I found the tone to be a breath of fresh air.
- Easy A - Emma Stone.
- Harry Potter 7.0 - Slow and incredibly unfulfilling as a stand-alone piece, but still an emotional trip for fans, no doubt.
- How To Train Your Dragon - A nice surprise. I hope Dreamworks takes notice and fashions all its films after this one, i.e. make them good.
- Black Swan - Another thought-provoking little film. Couldn't shake some of its images. A fun little thriller.
- Winter's Bone - Wow. Jennifer Lawrence has a bright, bright career ahead of her.
- Rabbit Hole - A nice change of pace in the "Grieving Parents" genre. Reminded me a lot of Wit, one of the best films ever made about death.
- Shutter Island - I liked the book better, but still a solid piece of B-movie Scorcese.
- Catfish - Tense little film. Hard to watch at points, but a nice counterpoint to The Social Network.
- The Ghost Writer - Didn't expect much from this after Polanski's boring Oliver Twist redux, but a slick thriller emerged, and won me over with its amazing ending.
- The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo - Probably the longest film on here, and probably the most engrossing. Too bad its sequel kinda sucked in comparison.
There's still a whole host of films I need/want to see. But, as of today, this is it.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Slurm
If you've ever wondered why I don't blog a lot, here's why:
Yeah, in one month, 13 people saw this site. 27 visits. And 5 of those visits were from me.
Would blogging more often increase readership? Doubtful. I went a whole week blogging almost every day back in September, and I saw little change.
I don't expect a massive readership, I really don't. But, given how much time I do put into posts, and the severe lack of interest (I'm not blaming you. My life is incredibly boring. I am aware of this), it's becoming tiresome. It's not worth it.
Would blogging more often increase readership? Doubtful. I went a whole week blogging almost every day back in September, and I saw little change.
I don't expect a massive readership, I really don't. But, given how much time I do put into posts, and the severe lack of interest (I'm not blaming you. My life is incredibly boring. I am aware of this), it's becoming tiresome. It's not worth it.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thanks, Lost.
It's Christmas time, so I'm in a mood. I also took two Excedrin this morning to curb a migraine, and I feel fantastic. And buzzed.
But, every year, I think back on Christmas' past, and the one I always seem to think about is the one Christmas I spent in France.
I normally hate mission stories, because I feel most of them are simply excuses for the raconteur to tell everyone how awesome they were, or how awesome their mission was, or whatever. No altruistic intent at all, just pure ego. But, this one isn't about any of that. It's just involves me doing something unusual, and being completely changed by it.
See, back in Christmas of '03 (yeah, 2003. See, I'm what you would refer to as old...), I was not only in France, but I was in Paris. It was everything I could have wanted, all coming together in one giant ball of "Um, hell yeah!" I was stoked beyond belief to be in the city for the holidays.
Christmas in the mish usually means a special Christmas Zone Conference, a gathering of all the missionaries in a certain region of the mission boundaries. It also meant we got to eat Pizza Hut, which was a really big deal, but that's whole other story. Our zones included all of Paris, and some of the surrounding suburbs and cities. It was quite a large group. Part of this conference involved a lot of music, sung or played by missionaries. Like most missions I'm sure, mine was crawling with musical talent. I was always floored to hear of one missionary or another's full-ride music scholarship, or their ability to improvise any pop song on the spot, or what have you. Tons and tons of talented people.
Anyway, the climax of this musical program involved a big emotional rendition of Le cantique de Noël, or as it's known here, O Holy Night. It was a huge part of the program, the trailer moment of the afternoon, if you will. It's a powerful song. I remember the Christmas prior hearing it sung at the MTC by a duet of some of the best male voices I'd ever heard. It's just an amazing song, and probably my favorite "carol." The song was to be sung in four-part harmony, a traditional quartet of soprano, alto, tenor and bass. Given the amount of musical prowess in the zone, I knew it would be handled flawlessly.
The big shock--and the reason for this long story--was that despite my belief that everyone outside of myself was incredibly musically inclined, and much worthier to participate, I was asked to sing in this quartet. Yeah. Me.
I love to sing. I always have. But, I've never fancied myself any good. I know I can carry a tune, and I know I can muster the necessary bits of breathing and cadence, but that's it. I'm not much more than a choir guy. I'd never sung in anything smaller than maybe a 10 person choir. It never even crossed my mind to want to sing in a quartet. But I accepted, because, why not? I'd already stepped out of my comfort zone a million times over as a missionary, saying and doing things I never dreamed myself capable of, so I figured this was just something else to do.
The people I sang with were some of the best voices in the mission (the best male voice had just left for Brest the transfer prior. You can hear that voice here.) One sister was in my MTC group, and she had some pipes, let me tell you. The other was the daughter of the guy who wrote the music for This Is The Christ, so you can imagine her musicality was spot on. My male counterpart (the bass to my straining tenor) was a previous companion of mine. He sang solos in high school, and was in a band. He and I often sang songs from the Buffy musical episode, as well as pieces from Les Miz while we were together (longest companion I had, too, at 15 weeks). We were theatre nerds, and proud of it. His voice was impressive. His range was much better than mine. I felt dwarfed.
Rehearsals were fine, but I always felt ridiculous singing with these people. I'm not a tenor. I can sing it, but it requires more falsetto than I like to do. I was nervous.
I don't remember much about the day of. It was all well and good. All I remember was, that despite my lack of comparable musical ability, I was unbelievably exhilarated while singing. I don't know how it sounded. I'll never know. I should have recorded it, but failed to even think about it. I don't think anyone did. I could have been just plain awful; the tune-less anchor weighing down the floating ship of musical perfection, on its way to the heavens above to perform for the Man Himself. But, honestly, I don't think that was the point, and it's certainly not what I take away from the experience.
What I take away was the feeling of doing something so completely out of my realm. I'd become so comfortable talking to strangers and imparting my beliefs on anyone who would listen (in a foreign tongue, no less), that it'd become daily, and stale. This performance re-invigorated me. It made me float for about four minutes, and I have yet to shake that feeling. It's one of the most pure Christmas memories I have, and I hope to keep it that way.
So, while Christmas is often centered around Christ and his birth, it should also be a time when we force ourselves to change. We ready ourselves this time of year for the New Year, for resolutions we tend to break in February. Our intent, however, is pure, and our willingness to do something different with our lives is abundant in December, and that should be celebrated, and remarked upon. Do something that scares you this Christmas, because this is time when good works and kind hearts aren't looked upon as needless grabs for attention or false modesty. Use the spirit of the season to surprise yourself, and maybe if you're lucky, surprise someone else as well.
But, every year, I think back on Christmas' past, and the one I always seem to think about is the one Christmas I spent in France.
I normally hate mission stories, because I feel most of them are simply excuses for the raconteur to tell everyone how awesome they were, or how awesome their mission was, or whatever. No altruistic intent at all, just pure ego. But, this one isn't about any of that. It's just involves me doing something unusual, and being completely changed by it.
See, back in Christmas of '03 (yeah, 2003. See, I'm what you would refer to as old...), I was not only in France, but I was in Paris. It was everything I could have wanted, all coming together in one giant ball of "Um, hell yeah!" I was stoked beyond belief to be in the city for the holidays.
Christmas in the mish usually means a special Christmas Zone Conference, a gathering of all the missionaries in a certain region of the mission boundaries. It also meant we got to eat Pizza Hut, which was a really big deal, but that's whole other story. Our zones included all of Paris, and some of the surrounding suburbs and cities. It was quite a large group. Part of this conference involved a lot of music, sung or played by missionaries. Like most missions I'm sure, mine was crawling with musical talent. I was always floored to hear of one missionary or another's full-ride music scholarship, or their ability to improvise any pop song on the spot, or what have you. Tons and tons of talented people.
Anyway, the climax of this musical program involved a big emotional rendition of Le cantique de Noël, or as it's known here, O Holy Night. It was a huge part of the program, the trailer moment of the afternoon, if you will. It's a powerful song. I remember the Christmas prior hearing it sung at the MTC by a duet of some of the best male voices I'd ever heard. It's just an amazing song, and probably my favorite "carol." The song was to be sung in four-part harmony, a traditional quartet of soprano, alto, tenor and bass. Given the amount of musical prowess in the zone, I knew it would be handled flawlessly.
The big shock--and the reason for this long story--was that despite my belief that everyone outside of myself was incredibly musically inclined, and much worthier to participate, I was asked to sing in this quartet. Yeah. Me.
I love to sing. I always have. But, I've never fancied myself any good. I know I can carry a tune, and I know I can muster the necessary bits of breathing and cadence, but that's it. I'm not much more than a choir guy. I'd never sung in anything smaller than maybe a 10 person choir. It never even crossed my mind to want to sing in a quartet. But I accepted, because, why not? I'd already stepped out of my comfort zone a million times over as a missionary, saying and doing things I never dreamed myself capable of, so I figured this was just something else to do.
The people I sang with were some of the best voices in the mission (the best male voice had just left for Brest the transfer prior. You can hear that voice here.) One sister was in my MTC group, and she had some pipes, let me tell you. The other was the daughter of the guy who wrote the music for This Is The Christ, so you can imagine her musicality was spot on. My male counterpart (the bass to my straining tenor) was a previous companion of mine. He sang solos in high school, and was in a band. He and I often sang songs from the Buffy musical episode, as well as pieces from Les Miz while we were together (longest companion I had, too, at 15 weeks). We were theatre nerds, and proud of it. His voice was impressive. His range was much better than mine. I felt dwarfed.
Rehearsals were fine, but I always felt ridiculous singing with these people. I'm not a tenor. I can sing it, but it requires more falsetto than I like to do. I was nervous.
I don't remember much about the day of. It was all well and good. All I remember was, that despite my lack of comparable musical ability, I was unbelievably exhilarated while singing. I don't know how it sounded. I'll never know. I should have recorded it, but failed to even think about it. I don't think anyone did. I could have been just plain awful; the tune-less anchor weighing down the floating ship of musical perfection, on its way to the heavens above to perform for the Man Himself. But, honestly, I don't think that was the point, and it's certainly not what I take away from the experience.
What I take away was the feeling of doing something so completely out of my realm. I'd become so comfortable talking to strangers and imparting my beliefs on anyone who would listen (in a foreign tongue, no less), that it'd become daily, and stale. This performance re-invigorated me. It made me float for about four minutes, and I have yet to shake that feeling. It's one of the most pure Christmas memories I have, and I hope to keep it that way.
So, while Christmas is often centered around Christ and his birth, it should also be a time when we force ourselves to change. We ready ourselves this time of year for the New Year, for resolutions we tend to break in February. Our intent, however, is pure, and our willingness to do something different with our lives is abundant in December, and that should be celebrated, and remarked upon. Do something that scares you this Christmas, because this is time when good works and kind hearts aren't looked upon as needless grabs for attention or false modesty. Use the spirit of the season to surprise yourself, and maybe if you're lucky, surprise someone else as well.
Friday, December 10, 2010
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