LaughAtlantis

Last night Rod and I got engaged. I really didn't know it was possible to be this happy.

I still haven't mastered that whole "posting pictures on your website" business, but Rod has, and he's posted a picture of my engagement ring!

Also, we've started a side website where we can blog and share about the wedding plans. (Or, you know, bitch about my mom. Either or.)

This is my one hundredth post.

I feel like I ought to write something momentous or remarkable, but I got nothin'.

In honor of our wedding, Rod set up a whole new website for us to blog about the planning process.

Gawd, he is such a geek. Gotta love it.

I am just having way too much fun on the yesand board playing Celebrity.

Several years back, I went on a road trip to Maine with friends. On the way there, we played Celebrity constantly, in a slightly different format. One person says an actor, the next person says a movie that actor was in, the next says another actor who was in that movie, the next says a different movie that actor was in, etc., etc., etc. We had such a good time playing that we somehow managed, in a trip from Boston traveling directly up the highway to Bangor, to wind up three hours out of the way in New Hampshire.

It's a fun game.

Right now, I am in the process of organizing rehearsals for the upcoming improv show that I'm doing. It's a great show, and I'm really excited, but I haven't directed in an age, and the last time I did, it was in college.

Things were different then.

Now I am dealing with people who have real lives and other commitments and a need to sleep more than three hours a night. I have to find compatible schedules for people rather than just setting a time and hoping that some people can make it.

Damn it, being a real grown-up sucks.

A while back I joined a web ring promoting Random Acts of Journaling. It provides its members with monthly prompts as ideas to spark journal entries. Here's one of this month's that made me think.

The meaning of life is too big a question for me to answer, but I'll break it down to a question I can answer: What is the meaning of my life? I will tell you: When I fall into a warm bed after a day's hard work, when my belly is filled with the good food Hjordis made for me, when I've done something nice for someone else and heard a good story that's made me laugh—well, that's a good day, a day that's had meaning.
Welcome to the Great Mysterious, Lorna Landvik (p. 116)

I love this.

I'm not a philosopher. I'm not going to go down in history as one of the great thinkers of my time. I don't spend time pondering the great un-ponderables. What's the point? Life's mysteries are mysteries for a reason, right?

But my life. That's something different.

Back in high school, we were all encouraged - nay, forced - to take part in various charities and philanthropies. The theory was that it made you a better person and could give your life meaning. I think philanthropy is very important, don't get me wrong, but life has meaning whether you're feeding starving children in Rwanda or waiting tables at Denny's.

Did Ebenezer Scrooge become a better person simply because he became a philanthropist? NO! He became a better person because he found meaning. He figured out that the way he'd been living had kept him miserable for his entire life. He hadn't really been living, just sort of existing in a meaningless way because he didn't see the value in his own life or in the world.

So, Ebenezer met his three ghosts and found out what he'd been missing. He was able to see how much nicer his life would have been if he'd been something more than a cold hard shell. Go back to my original example - you're feeding starving children in Rwanda. If every day you just blankly hand out bowls of rice to children, they are going to appreciate the food. That's a given. But do they appreciate YOU? Not necessarily. You have to find the meaning in what you do in order for others to do so. That waitress at Denny's might make every one of her customers smile. She might love her job and her existence, and the relief worker might be a miserable SOB with an attitude problem. It's finding the moments in life that have beauty, recognizing their meaning and acknowledging it that gives a whole life meaning.

Went to go see Gangs of New York last night. It is quite possibly the most violent movie I've ever seen - not for the squeamish - but it also boasts some phenomenal acting.

I've been looking forward to this movie for what seems like forever. It was supposed to come out nearly two years ago, and it just got delayed and postponed and delayed some more. I'll be honest, I've never actually seen another Martin Scorsese film (yes, I know, you can take me out and flog me later) but the buzz about this has been good from the very beginning. But after two years of waiting, I was beginning to take the delays as a personal affront. I'm funny like that.

Anyway, Leonardo is passable in the film - he broods a lot, and he's good at that. I didn't expect to be impressed with Cameron Diaz, and I wasn't blown away by her performance, but I found her believable - though I couldn't help thinking that if Uma Thurman hadn't gotten pregnant right around the time they were casting this movie, the role might have been a lot juicier. Brendan Gleeson, Jim Broadbent, Henry Thomas, and John C. Reilly all put in understated yet layered and interesting performances.

But the tour de force in this movie is clearly Daniel Day-Lewis. The man is just a phenomenal actor. In most other actors' hands, the character of Bill the Butcher would have turned easily into a caricature - aided by the costuming and hair choices that, while suitable to the day, make him appear a bit ridiculous today. Looking at a still picture of Daniel Day-Lewis in stovepipe hat, plaid pants, and curled handlebar moustache, you would think the character was comedic. But this guy is evil. He's racist and prejudiced and oh yeah, a killer. He rules his corner of New York with an iron fist. He's freakin' scary.

I read an article a while back that talked about the way that Lewis immerses himself in his roles. For Last of the Mohicans, he went out into the woods for several months to learn how to live off the land, killing his own meat. For My Left Foot, he stayed wheelchair-bound on and off set for weeks. For the two months before filming The Crucible, he built by hand the house in which his character lived. This man takes method acting to its utmost extreme - so how is he supposed to get into character for a role like Bill the Butcher? Apparently he apprenticed with a butcher to learn carving skills and with some circus performers to learn how to throw knives. And for the rage, he reportedly listened to a lot of rap music.

His performance is astounding. I am compelled to go out and rent the rest of his movies, immediately. Go see this movie. I don't want to write a whole lot about it, because I don't want to include any sort of spoilers, but seriously - just go see it!

ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH!
AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!
AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!

So, I guess what I'm saying is ARGH.

Went to go see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind last night... I have no idea how I felt about the movie. Seriously. It was just sorta bizarre - with moments of odd and bewildering. I don't know if Chuck Barris is insane, an asshole, or just really creative. - and I'm not sure I want to know.

One thing that I can conclusively state, however, is that Sam Rockwell has a nice butt. You get to see a lot of it in this movie, from pretty much the very first shot of the film.

However, if you want to see the man act, I suggest you rent The Green Mile. Good movie with solid acting all around, particularly by Rockwell and Doug Hutchison. Oh, yeah, and I suppose Tom Hanks was good too. And I guess Michael Clarke Duncan didn't get an Oscar nomination for being crappy... so yeah, great ensemble, great movie.

As for Confessions, however... well, Drew Barrymore was interesting, George Clooney was mysterious. Julia Roberts was weird, and Sam Rockwell was... well, he was scantily clad.

I work on the thirtieth floor of an office building in Boston. In the morning, the sun beats in and it's nice and toasty, if you're sitting directly in the path of the sun.

But I'm not. I have a cubicle with a view, yes, but the view is behind me. I have to turn around to look out the window, and even then I have to lean backwards a little bit, because my cube wall is immediately to the left of me when I'm sitting at my computer and the windows are on the other side of said wall.

The thing is, though, that by late morning the sun has reached the top of the building and there is no longer toasty warmness happening. In fact, it's quite chilly. And to complicate things, somebody complained back in August or July about the incredible heat over here, and as such, they turned the air conditioning on. Great for August, but now it's January and it's still on. That's right, we're in the midst of the coldest spell Boston has had since meteorology was invented and my office is still air-conditioned.

I complained. I was told that it had been changed in July due to complaints and now this was just a lot to ask. (As you can perhaps imagine, the complaint in July was because we were still getting heat.) But no changes have been made this time around and it's ridiculously cold. Who do I have to kill to get some heat around here???

I apologize for any typos that might exist in this entry. My fingers have frostbite.

Today's This or That Thursday quiz... linguists everywhere are awaiting the results of this one.

1. Kleenex or tissue? Kleenex is a brand name. Tissue is what they are. I tend to call them tissues.

2. Soda or pop (or tonic or whatever)? Soda.

3. A sandwich on a long roll: sub or hero? I'm from Rhode Island, where we call it a grinder. If forced, I'll call it a sub.

4. Glasses or spectacles? Glasses... who calls them spectacles anymore?

5. TV or television? TV

6. Movie or film? Well, see, there's movies that are movies and movies that are films. Films are, I don't know, more highbrow. Arty. Quality. Weighty. Or maybe just old. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure? That's a movie. Roman Holiday? That's a film.

7. Sofa or couch? Both. Couches are bigger than sofas.

8. Stove or range? It's a stove unless it has a built-in grill thingy, then it's a range.

9. Remote control or clicker? Remote

10. Supermarket or grocery store? Hmm. Neither, really. I either call it "the store" or I refer to it as Shaw's, Star Market, Stop & Shop, whatever it actually is.

I've been meaning to do this for ages, but I finally got around to creating new categories for my blog entries.

Gah, I am just so proud.

Rod and I went to go see About Schmidt last night. It was an odd little film.

I can totally see why Jack Nicholson won the Golden Globe for his performance. His character is so not Nicholson... I don't know how to describe it any better than that. There's none of the puffed-up Nicholson pride, no self-satisfied smile, no over-the-top slick oiliness. With that in mind, it's a really inspired performance - because you don't get what you expect to get out of Jack Nicholson - that being, Jack Nicholson.

The thing is, though, it's not a great movie. When he was making his speech having just been given the Best Actor in a Drama award at the Golden Globes, Nicholson said, "I don't know whether to be ashamed or happy, because I thought we made a comedy." If he really thought that, he was wrong. It's not a comedy - it's not really a drama either, but rather a sometimes wry, sometimes bitter look at a man's adjustment to retirement. For me, it seemed like the story was only compelling at all because it was well acted - I was enjoying watching Jack Nicholson act, but I didn't much care for the story itself. I didn't feel emotionally connected to the material in any meaningful way. In some ways, it reminded me of The Royal Tenenbaums - but Schmidt didn't have the biting edge or the visual humor which that had. Over all, I was a bit disappointed.

I will say, however, that Kathy Bates deserves some major props for her role. It's certainly not the most challenging role she's ever played, not the meatiest of scripts and not the deepest of characters. But you have to respect a woman who, at age 54, is willing to do complete nudity because it fits the role, no matter what her shape or size is. Go Kathy.