Despicable Me

To my shock and horror, I realized that I forgot to write my review about Despicable Me. Which is not cool -- here you rely and depend on me for guidance on what to see, and I let you down. (Wait, you mean you don't consult this blog before you plan your social outings? What is the point of this here blog, then? Just for me to chitter chatter away to myself, instead of the whole wide world?).

Enough of blog angst (there is no lamer question than: What is the meaning behind my blog?) and on to the movie review. As usual, spoilers ahead. Because I can't discuss something without giving it all away.

I loved the movie. It's animated! It's about a villain who wants to be the most evil villain ever, but is thwarted by . . . three orphan girls. At first, he tries to use them as part of his evil plot, but then he ends up falling for them. Yes, he finds that he has a heart thumping beneath his animated costume, and so they all live happily ever after. Oh, in addition, he doesn't really succeed with his evil plot, but who cares, he has a family, and also the big bad villain he was trying to dethrone finds himself on a one-way rocket missile to the moon. Hate when that happens.

I love the idea of being as villainous as you can be. It's evil. We spend so much time trying to be good, that sometimes it's not so bad to be just a little bit naughty. So if you want to steal the moon -- oh, you fiend -- why, good sir, I say go for it. Just don't commit any war crimes, crimes against humanity or genocide along the way, OK? (We'll leave out the crime of aggression for now, I'm still not sure how it is defined. Oh all this nerd talk, it's so villainous.).

I have never been a villain. I don't think I would know how to be one, to be honest. I tend to be one of the good/ nice guys. But wait, we finish last you say? How depressingly sad.

Go watch the movie. I give it two thumbs up.

It's good to be spontaneous

Today was a rather mellow day, what with the weather being all gloomy and overcast.

But I forgot! My bookcase arrived this morning at 915am. Yes, my much-anticipated bookcase, with customized shelves, so that hopefully when all the books are unpacked, everything will line up organized . . . and beautiful.

My plan today had been to hammer out as much of this dreaded brief as possible, and then run home and spend some one-on-one time with those books organizing them about. BUT.

I decided to be spontaneous.

A work colleague asked me to join him and his father, visiting from India, for dinner. At first I thought, oh but I should work and then oh I should unpack books, but then I thought, oh if my parents were visiting from India and I asked them to join me, I would hope they would do so.

So off I went to Copper Chimney in Curry Hill, which turned out to be really delicious. Although something about the heat - it was so hot - made me not eat as much as I normally would (I would stuff my face) but still, I liked what I ate.

And then I thought, oh I should go and say good bye to the Quiglemeister, a former colleague who is taking off to Ireland per-man-ent-ly tomorrow. So off I went for a small peg of whiskey and a good bye conversation.

I'm home now, on my bed, at 1256am, wondering why the boxes are not yet unpacked.
But-- ode to spontaneity!

Neither here nor there

Sunday night is taking stock night. Of the week that passed. The week that lies ahead.

Bookcase arrives tomorrow. Am excited -- need to put away the 9 or so boxes of books that are stacked up in the bedroom. Will be the next step in being fully adjusted and settled in my new apartment. Yes, still new, to me. (The mortgage payments feel VERY new to me). A few tasks remain: (a) lighting for the living room and bedrooms (table lamps, floor lamps), (b) a desk or vanity for the guest bedroom, (c) blinds for the window in the guest bedroom, (d) my curtains in my bedroom re-hemmed to the appropriate length, (e) put away one box of stuff that goes in my desk (should have done this already, to be honest), and then (f) putting up paintings on the walls. Step by step. There is no rush.

There is no rush is what I tell myself when I am impatient.

Although this runs contrary to seize the day now, doesn't it?

Old friends were in town this weekend, bringing in tow their young child (is a 1.5 year old a baby still or now a child? Certainly seemed like her own person.) Young children are full time! There is a playground behind where I live, so we all set off to the jungle jim and the swings (too small to go on the swings by herself, so I put her on my lap and pushed off. Oh how the swings creaked.)

Rainy day today. No torrent or anything. I have spent the whole day indoors. Which is not a good thing. And now it's 10:13pm and I'm wondering whether I should just go out for a wandering stroll just to go and breathe some fresh air. I suppose I could just open my windows, too, and stick my head out.

This post is neither here nor there. I have just watched two gruesome episodes of Law and Order SVU. But I do not feel it is appropriate to talk about since my last post was about this show. I do not want you to think that Law and Order SVU is my relationship proxy (well, in particular, given the subject matter!).

Coming up soon: A movie review of The Kids Are Alright. Which really got me thinking. I suppose the movie was also about The Parents Are Alright. And The Sperm Donor Might Be A Jerk (In Disguise).

TV Dilemma

Sometimes my biggest dilemma at night is whether or not to watch another episode of TV. It's late, time to sleep, time to close your eyes so that you will be fresh and productive the next day. Open-eye time being less than 8 hours away already (yes, I am like a child, but I love proper sleep). An episode of 30 Rock is about 22 minutes or so if you get through the commercials quickly using your DVR remote control. Typically, that is justifiable. Unless you are on a 30 Rock spree, in which case those series of 22 minute episodes add up quickly. But an episode of Law and Order SVU -- now that is a different calculus altogether.

Because it is not just about the time it takes to watch an episode (say about 45 minutes?). It is also about the additional pleasure derived from watching such fantastic television late at night. That additional pleasure has to be weighed against the dismay over waking up too early in the morning, having had insufficient sleep, the subsequent cutting off the face that occurs when I shave in the morning with sleep deprivation, the blotting of the ensuing splotches, the walk to work at a hastier pace, resulting in sweat and unhappiness, the (a) turn on computer quickly, (b) put on desk fan (too hot! too hot! from the quick walk!), (c) the run to the kitchen meanwhile to get myself (i) tea -- but too hot to drink when it's so hot! so hot! and (ii) a bottle of pellegrino, sometimes (iii) another bottle of pellegrino to water the office plants depending on whether or not they look droopy. I like to think that the bubbles aerate the soil or something. Oh I am not a gardener.).

Law and Order SVU usually wins. Which is why last night I found myself surprised when I turned off the episode . . . mid-way. I wondered, "Is this what it feels like when a relationship loses novelty?" Doubts crept into my mind: "SVU, do I really love you? Like I have loved you in the past?" Maybe this is the point when a parent stops rushing out of bed every the baby cries in the room next door. As the parent thinks, "Oh, s/he'll be fine," I, too, thought, "Oh SVU, you will be on my DVR tomorrow."

I don't despair yet. No, I have faith that this was a one-off.

Putting yourself in someone else's shoes

I've been thinking about putting oneself in someone else's shoes, primarily because I've been sitting at home all day watching TV, feeling sorry for myself (see previous post about having strained/ pulled/ torn a muscle). I was thinking of, for example, my grandmother, who is largely house-bound, and how she gets bored sometimes, even though she has TV to watch, books to read, and people call and visit at home. But the universe is outside -- she largely does not get to control when people come by. So if she's bored, well, then she's bored -- she can't go out and do anything about it.

Which makes me think that growing old sounds awful. In a way, you get to see your life all around you (in the case of my grandmother, she gets to see how her life turned out, and those around her, including her grandchildren). But at the same time, you recognize that the prime (of your health, at least) is past you. And I wonder what that feels like.

For some, I think that means philosophic acceptance. That is my dad's case, for example. He enjoys growing older because he likes when people treat him nicer for being a senior citizen, and he gets to read more, instead of running around taking care of the children. But for others, it just might mean disenchantment.

I think I would be predisposed to the disenchantment route. Must work on that.

My body hurts

Probably serves me right for thinking I'm a sprightly young thing, what with all this gym going and swimming, but yesterday saw me lying in pain in my bed. Because I pulled a muscle. But apparently I didn't realize I had done so/ chose to ignore it (I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt and go with the option before the back slash) and worked out for another hour, so this was not any ordinary pull. Oh no, this felt worse, like a tear.

I tried to ignore it because that is my solution for most things in life. And, generally, that tends to work. (Oh, who am I kidding -- most of the time I'm incapable of letting sleeping dogs lie. But anyway.) But last night saw me waking up at 1am, 3am and 5am in agony. And I realized (a) I don't have a sports doctor, nor a regular doctor and (b) I don't have any aspirin at home. And I am 30 years old. This is unacceptable.

So as soon as I am able to walk again, I will take a trip to the drug store. Until then -- TV.

should I do a triathlon?

Dear readers

I use the plural because I know that I have at two readers. So dear gentle readers, in the unabashed plural, should I do an olympic-distance triathlon in about a month's time? I ask because I have to register. But it seems like such a commitment and I'm not sure about the whole running thing, not to mention the swimming thing and the biking thing. I don't even have a bike. Nor proper running shoes for that matter.

But I have been going to the gym. And doing the occasional bout of swimming (in one of New York City's public swimming pools, perhaps the subject of another blog entry).

Oh I don't know.

It has been brought to my attention

that I have been delinquent about blogging. Indeed, that is the case. My last post dates back to more than three weeks ago.

So how to summarize the last three weeks without doing so in my usual cursory and breezy way where I sort of apologize for not being more accountable to my readership of two or so and then half-heartedly go through the motions of discussing the highlights of the past few days.

Well, first things first, I promised you movie reviews. And I have seen two movies. So here goes:
(1) I saw Inception a couple of weeks ago. But I have to confess that I saw the movie late on a weekday after a long day of work, and so when the theater lights dimmed and the air conditioning kicked in, and I fully satiated myself on the gummy bears that I bought as an impulse purchase right before the movie, well, you saw me sliding lower and lower in my seat and . . . perhaps I took a cat nap.

Which in a movie about dreams does not seem all that inappropriate.

The problem, however, is that the movie is complicated. I think it's supposed to be like an onion, and you're supposed to peel off layer after layer. Which means that I had to eat raw onion skin. Yes, figure out how that metaphor works. There's meaning in there somewhere, I'm sure.

(2) I can review "Salt" more ably, given that I stayed awake. I love action movies, even though they have become simply so ludicrous. Eons ago (perhaps a month or so ago) I talked about seeing the movie with Cameron Diaz and Tom Cruise, the name of which escapes me now, and I'm so lazy I can't even bother to look it up again, oh google despite you being at my fingertips, I still have to exercise those lazy fingertips, in which the improbable happens. Well, same plot line for Salt -- the improbable, nay, the impossible happens. But that is OK. The movie has Angelina Jolie, and she really is one of a kind. I can't think of another woman who does "tough" quite like she does. I know Jennifer Garner was kind of kick-assy in the TV series Alias but there was something soft about her. In Jolie, too, but that vulnerability seems vulnerable rather than cute/ faux feminine.

I found the plot a little complicated. Which might I am dumber than your average law graduate since my two law school friends with whom I saw the movie both thought that the plot was simply silly. But I thought that it was layered. That onion peeling metaphor applies again! And there was a twist at the end, and Lord knows who I love twists, especially when it's a lemon being squeezed into my drink.

But I digress. Go watch the movie. At least (2) if not (1). Because I haven't adequately reviewed (1).