guanin

I watched Clash of the Titans yesterday. And was very underwhelmed. My cousin loved it, so I limited myself to the lukewarm response, "I expected more." The gods didn't appear enough, the story was missing substance, and on top of that the 3D was barely there. I kept taking my glasses on and off to see if they were doing it at all. And my friends were complaining that the 3D in Avatar was too weak (I rather liked it). I can't believe it took me forever to recognize Mads Mikkelsen, though. I knew I had heard his voice somewhere, but that was it until the movie was almost over.

ETA: And I forgot to mention the preview. That would be the new Robin Hood movie, which looks like the period movie I've always dreamed of doing (though in my fantasyland I would have slash on the screen and not just in subtext, pervy me) and better as hell be as wonderful as it should be. Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett? That's almost too much goodness.

Why did my grandfather buy Y tu mamá también? Please don't tell me it was because it's Mexican. This is so not his type of movie. I don't watch movies like this around him, though he told me once years ago that it's fine, just make sure not to do it around my grandmother. All over the cover it says how much this movie is about sex and yet he still buys it. He has the tamest DVD collection ever. I do not understand. I'm afraid to ask although if he doesn't want it later, I'll take it.

You know how writers go through periods of alternate splendor (or so I hope) and mediocrity? I hate that. It makes no sense. Not that I should wonder, at this stage in my life. It's things making sense that stand out as odd. But from one day to the next. From one hour to the next? Once, I started out writing really sloppy sentences. They just wouldn't come out right, then as I was writing, suddenly something shifted and wonderful stuff started coming out. Then it went away again. Why can't I stay with the wonderfulness all the time?

In other news, I finally saw the third Ice Age movie. Two and a half times. That thing is hilarious. Cute baby dinosaurs. A deranged weasel. Mad laughter. Peril galore. And Sid being Sid: goofy, foolish, not very smart, but the result is great stuff.

ETA: I took a peek at the Doctor Who episode that's on TV right now, but it's that weeping angels one. I am not watching that again. That thing really scared me!

I just watched XXY. Right afterwards, I wrote 1,000 words. Bam, just like that. I don't think it even took me an hour. God, I love inspiration. And the scene I wrote doesn't have a thing to do with the movie. It's more a style thing.

It's 3:37 in the morning and I'm not in bed yet. I am going to be so sleepy tomorrow.

°°°

*eight hours later*

I forgot to post this last night. Now I am so, so tired. Just like I predicted. I woke up at 11. I slept 6 hours. Yeesh. It's been weeks since the last time I slept so little. My head keeps wanting to drop onto the keyboard, but I have this scene in my head that's infested my brain and won't leave me alone! This is going to be so much fun. Oh, and it's het. Bizarre. And it's a sex scene. Except it's kinda odd, so it's not smut. Hell, it's practically sex ed.

I should eat something and lie down. Today's productivity is going to crash to the floor.

I got a slashy dream last night. That hasn't happened for years. The gay movie marathons I've been having lately are definitely responsible for that. Note: By marathon, I mean that I've been watching entire movies in one sitting. I haven't done that since who knows when. A year, maybe. I don't know if anyone here has Netflix, but their Instant movie feature is one of the most awesome things ever. No need to watch for a DVD to come in the mail, no need to rail at the player when the scratched DVD gets stuck and won't function like happened just ten minutes ago. Just instant goodness. I sound like the ad. By the way, His Secret Life *there's a threesome in this one, by the way) and Walk on Water are excellent. The downside to all this is that now I have a new plotbunny running around my head, courtesy of the dream, that I don't know what to do with. Thank you, brain.

For some strange reason, a scale has appeared in the bathroom in a very prominent location that forces me to see if every time I go in, so now I can't do my business without feeling guilty about not exercising. *face palm* We may need to have a conversation about this. This is really not good for anyone's self esteem.

Does anyone know how many words is a 300 page novel, give or take? I keep being asked how many pages I have written of my novel and I notice that I don't count pages. Essay pages are the only pages I've ever counted, which got confusing in London, because over there it's words they count, so no matter what system I use someone is going to stare at me in confusion. It's like Fahrenheit vs. Celsius. I've got at least 106 pages by now. It feels like much less, probably because I'm still just getting started. It's a lot of story! There's a tiny sliver of a novel sitting on the shelf, barely 156 pages and I stare at it wondering how do you write a novel that tiny? If I were to write a short story, that would probably be the size of it.

I'm thinking, if I keep at my pace of 3,000 words a day, give or take, I can get 90,000 more within a month. Why am I suspecting that even if I do that, I will not be done with this novel by then?

I'm just stepping on my toes on my injured foot, but I can walk. Yes! It doesn't even hurt if I lay off the heel.

I watched Milk yesterday. It gave me the urge to get off my lazy ass and do something. I kinda didn't, but maybe one day I'll manage it. I've really got to get out of this house and find out what's going on.

Oh yes, I knew I was forgetting something. I wrote 2,416 words today! I haven't gotten this much written in one day since that novel that dies because it because a madhouse of insanity. The only reason I stopped and didn't write more is because I felt a little overwhelmed. Does that happen to anyone? I saw it mentioned in a writing manual once. I need to accustom myself to higher than this if I want to finish this thing within any reasonable amount of time.

And now I can't concentrate on my thesis because I keep thinking about that movie. It was good. Really good. I want to see it again. Now. It's exactly what I wish all summer movies would be like. There's plenty of action but accompanied with lots of intelligence. Forget turning your brain off (I hate that phrase, movies that require that make my head hurt). It's reality in so many ways. Replace the aliens with some random, oppressed human group and we have the same thing. No sugarcoating, no whitewashing at all. And the way they developed the main character just drives the point further home.

I want this movie. It's not your typical alien movie (not that I have much experience with those, I admit). I highly recommend it. Really.

I went to four tours in Scotland with four different guides and they all said the exact said thing about Braveheart. Great movie, really rousing, but what a load of rubbish. A Lowlander with a kilt? And face paint? And no clan politics/rivalries? And don't even get them started on the title, which is referring to Robert the Bruce, a whole different person. Rubbish. But great movie.

Kind of like Elizabeth. Great movie. But what a load of rubbish. I've finally gotten around to doing some reading on the Tudor period and wow. The movie is even more off than I suspected. Norfolk, mister ultra let’s kill all the heretics in the movie? Protestant. He did conspire to marry Mary Stuart and Leicester was in on it, though. But certainly not in league with any papists. I think I can hear him rolling in his grave right now. And that whole deal with the Duke of Anjou, i.e. the guy that Elizabeth apparently really considered marrying, except there was that pesky religion problem in the middle. The Dudley marriages compressed into one I understand (it was when he got remarried in secret that Elizabeth banished him from court), but that plot never engaged me anyway, so eh. No doubt there's more stuff I'm not aware of yet, but I still love the movie. But what a load of rubbish.

I woke up at 7 today. Yesterday it was 6. Perfectly normal. Why is this perfectly normal? Why have I been awake for three hours before anyone else steps out of bed? And why do I feel a need to go to bed by 11 when I'm not going anywhere the next day? This is wrong. So wrong.

By the way, I'm back in Illinois now. The Tranport for London bookmark is still there. I'm not getting rid of it. No one would happen to have any connections in the BBC, would they?

Damn you, tv networks! Fringe's Kirk Acevedo gets fired, My Name is Earl gets canceled (Reaper too, but I saw that coming *sigh), but other stuff that is only so-so or total drivel gets renewed. Argh! And on a side note with no judgments as to present quality because I haven't seen this show in years, but when is Smallville going to end? Because there is such a thing as shows just ending versus getting canceled. I got the impression that it was supposed to be prequel to the Lex vs Superman conflict, not the conflict itself. Not that I know a damn thing about it. It's just weird that this show has been around since I was in high school. High school! That was eight years ago! I don't know why, but it makes me feel really old.

On another note, I have yet to see Star Trek. This is sad, but I keep missing the first showing which is much cheaper. However, I did get to watch another movie about a gay restaurant owner who falls for this extremely cute football coach and has to deal with the kids he never knew in the meantime. I absolutely loved it. I'm really tempted to go see it again even though it's in the expensive theatre. It's a Spanish movie, called Chef's Special in English (Fuera de Carta). If it appears around your neck of the woods, you should definitely check it out. Allow me to entice you with a little picture.( picture. )

In yet other news, ohmygod is it hot here. And it's not really that hot. Just mid 80s, but it feels really unbearable. I'm used to wearing shot sleeves in high 60s now. Man, can I not live here anymore. My body is set to London temperature now. And soon it'll be set to Chicago temperature. Brrr! Although hearing the coquies (cute, little frogs we have here) and hearing the rain fall through the foliage is so refreshing.

I've spent three months without going to the movie theatre and now that I'm finally back in a place where I can afford the ticket prices, ready to pump myself full with as many flicks as I can, there's nothing good on. Not only that, but the two movies I do see are 'eh'. Granted, Quantum of Solace is a decent action movie, quite entertaining, but the only reason I watched it was because I liked Casino Royale so much, which this one doesn't even begin to compare to. You can tell it's a sequel. But the one my Dad took me to today was just... well, I hesitate to call it crap, but if you hate half a dozen false endings, cliched deaths and climaxes, and stale, sweeping music that sounds as if it came out a can, do not watch Australia. I wanted to leave so badly. You're definitely doing something wrong if your audience is bored while someone is getting shot.

I finally bought the Dexter novels today. At Borders for full price, which I don't like to do, but there's only eight business days before I leave and Amazon can be so slow shipping stuff here. Unless I order it Express, but there goes the discount.

Got one Christmas present today. Just one left.