Tiny Furniture, 2010
I love this movie. I've been yearning for a story like this since high school, when I sensed narrative abyss where a girl's point of view should be. Enough Holden-fucking-Caulfield and coming-of-age stories where the females were pretty and flat or not pretty and irrelevant.
Lena Dunham is a brave filmmaker and storyteller. I'm charmed by her vulnerability, as I'm sure many of the critics were.
Also, I love a lady who isn't wasting a lot of time trying to be pretty in public. She's not stick thin, and she's not apologizing for it. I wish it didn't seem so revolutionary or progressive when an actress has cellulite and voluntarily--intentionally--doesn't hide it in a film; but it is. Even better, Dunham doesn't make it political or activisty, she's just herself.
This movie has made it onto my list.
10/10, passes the Blechdel test, 0/10 for dudiness
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Thinks About Movies: Hugo
Hugo, 2011
Despite some painful acting from fancy-face Jude Law and that little blond girl, this movie was pretty great. Asa Butterfield's (Hugo) acting was very impressive, and of course Scorsese knows a thing or two about camera slinging.
I saw it in 3D, and for once it didn't feel like a gimmick. Visually beautiful.
Oh, and Borat was hilarious, as usual.
8/10, barely passes the Blechdel test, which is a no-pass in my book, 7/10 in the obviously made by dude category.
Despite some painful acting from fancy-face Jude Law and that little blond girl, this movie was pretty great. Asa Butterfield's (Hugo) acting was very impressive, and of course Scorsese knows a thing or two about camera slinging.
I saw it in 3D, and for once it didn't feel like a gimmick. Visually beautiful.
Oh, and Borat was hilarious, as usual.
8/10, barely passes the Blechdel test, which is a no-pass in my book, 7/10 in the obviously made by dude category.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
In which I have a lengthy discussion with my cat.
SPOILER ALERT: cat never replies
Pablo, every time I look at facebook I end up feeling shitty about my life. Look at all these other people doing interesting things having fun with fun people. They are all so proud of their lives they they talk about it incessantly.
Who cares what my kid is doing? who cares what I think about this or that? Who cares that that guy who asked you out 'for a cheeseburger' in high school is now a really hot pilot with a mustache. WITH A MUSTACHE.
Maybe I'll always feel lonely. Maybe that's what happens when you are an only child, you never figure out how to be with other people. You are hyper-aware of your inner monologue, it follows you around like a ghost twin. It's your only sibling, the closest thing to a friendship you know on a basic level.
This is pathetic. I'm talking to my cat. Although, maybe it's emblematic of the human condition...us all just asking questions that we won't get answers to. Talking to a void.
But... sometimes there are answers- real answers...true things; but we don't like their truth.
Like:
Anyway! when will I do something with my life that is interesting...that I'll be proud of? That will make me want to put it all over facebook and twitter and cyberhell.
I guess I've done stuff, but not what I really want. I want a PhD. I want to feel smart. What does that mean? I am smart...clearly there's an implicit comparison here. I want to be smarter than everyone. No, that's shitty. And I think it's mostly not true.
And the truth here is that I'll never do it. I'm too chicken shit. I'll make up excuses forever and ever. Because once I apply--that's it. Either I get into a mediocre program, but I'll never be able to have completed a degree from a elite university. Or I won't get in at all.
I don't know, maybe I would. I know lots of dumb people in graduate programs.
See what I did there? I talked shit on them because I'm jealous of what they are doing...to make myself feel better.
See what I did there? I called it out, and by calling it out I'm less shitty of a person because at least I know I'm shitty.
Maybe nothing matters Pablo. It's so tempting to believe that. But it does, it does. I know that it matters that your fur is exceptionally luxurious and that the top of your head is one of my top-ten favorite smells.
Pablo, every time I look at facebook I end up feeling shitty about my life. Look at all these other people doing interesting things having fun with fun people. They are all so proud of their lives they they talk about it incessantly.
Who cares what my kid is doing? who cares what I think about this or that? Who cares that that guy who asked you out 'for a cheeseburger' in high school is now a really hot pilot with a mustache. WITH A MUSTACHE.
Maybe I'll always feel lonely. Maybe that's what happens when you are an only child, you never figure out how to be with other people. You are hyper-aware of your inner monologue, it follows you around like a ghost twin. It's your only sibling, the closest thing to a friendship you know on a basic level.
This is pathetic. I'm talking to my cat. Although, maybe it's emblematic of the human condition...us all just asking questions that we won't get answers to. Talking to a void.
But... sometimes there are answers- real answers...true things; but we don't like their truth.
Like:
Anyway! when will I do something with my life that is interesting...that I'll be proud of? That will make me want to put it all over facebook and twitter and cyberhell.
I guess I've done stuff, but not what I really want. I want a PhD. I want to feel smart. What does that mean? I am smart...clearly there's an implicit comparison here. I want to be smarter than everyone. No, that's shitty. And I think it's mostly not true.
And the truth here is that I'll never do it. I'm too chicken shit. I'll make up excuses forever and ever. Because once I apply--that's it. Either I get into a mediocre program, but I'll never be able to have completed a degree from a elite university. Or I won't get in at all.
I don't know, maybe I would. I know lots of dumb people in graduate programs.
See what I did there? I talked shit on them because I'm jealous of what they are doing...to make myself feel better.
See what I did there? I called it out, and by calling it out I'm less shitty of a person because at least I know I'm shitty.
Maybe nothing matters Pablo. It's so tempting to believe that. But it does, it does. I know that it matters that your fur is exceptionally luxurious and that the top of your head is one of my top-ten favorite smells.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Breastfeeding Vs. Me: KO
In the battle of me vs. breastfeeding, I've given up. I've started a new full-time job, we're moving and I'm still finishing up classes from last semester. Honestly, I didn't stand a chance.
Maybe I'll make it to 6mos with the next baby? Sorry Mir Mir... :-/
Maybe I'll make it to 6mos with the next baby? Sorry Mir Mir... :-/
Weight Watchers
Someone who may or may not write this blog may or may not have started weight watchers today.
This same someone may or may not feel like a huge dork for joining weight watchers--but by god, those last 10ish pounds sure aren't movin'. So here's my attempt at reclaiming my bod (allegedly).
This same someone may or may not feel like a huge dork for joining weight watchers--but by god, those last 10ish pounds sure aren't movin'. So here's my attempt at reclaiming my bod (allegedly).
Friday, August 26, 2011
Breastfeeding Vs. Me: Round II
Alright-- so recently my milk has just about dried up. Yes, I'm a dried up old hag, officially. I tried to pump, tried to get Mirabel to suckle/feed anyway to stimulate production, and was wildly unsuccessful in both.
I just spent a few weeks sulking, but now I'm up for round two.
Breastfeeding now has the cards stacked against me, since now I'll be attempting to 're-lactate.' Clearly, M. will never be an exclusively breastfed baby, but I'm hoping I can at least get her some of that magical elixir out of these teets.
I met with a lovely lactation consultant at The Birth Center and here's the plan she worked up for me:
Well, I'm going to start sometime next week...I'll let you know how it goes....
I just spent a few weeks sulking, but now I'm up for round two.
Breastfeeding now has the cards stacked against me, since now I'll be attempting to 're-lactate.' Clearly, M. will never be an exclusively breastfed baby, but I'm hoping I can at least get her some of that magical elixir out of these teets.
I met with a lovely lactation consultant at The Birth Center and here's the plan she worked up for me:
- take domperidone
- take fenugreek
- drink H20 'till I swim
- Pump 6-8x/day (HOLY SHIT)
- Look at pics of M. while pumping to stimulate loving-mama feelings
Well, I'm going to start sometime next week...I'll let you know how it goes....
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
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