People Give Me a Headache

My job sometimes gives me a headache. Not because I don't love it; I do. I like helping people realize they are better writers than they think they are, and I LOVE hearing that I helped them get a better grade than they thought they would. However, there are some days... Some of "those" days... when the people who come in make me want to bang my head against the wall.
Today I read papers that:
*advocated global warming;
*used as part of its argument the "fact" that viruses are not infectious in warmer temperatures (the woman did not know what "malaria" was);
*** this is from the CDC website entry on malaria: "Warmer ambient temperatures shorten the duration of the extrinsic cycle, thus increasing the chances of transmission. Conversely, below a minimum ambient temperature (15°C or 59°F for Plasmodium vivax, 20°C or 68°F for P. falciparum), the extrinsic cycle cannot be completed and malaria cannot be transmitted. This explains in part why malaria transmission is greater in warmer areas of the globe (tropical and semitropical areas and lower altitudes)"
*argued that gays and lesbians who have sex before marriage are part of the reason why marriage values have gone down in recent years (ignoring the fact that gays and lesbians, as of now, can't get married- so sex before marriage is a kind of obscure idea);
*called pre-marital sexual relations "living in sin;"
*described the process of dress-making without once using the word "thread" because the woman writing the paper does now own a dictionary;
*described the different kinds of pores on a sea sponge;
*and my favorite of all, claimed women will benefit from marriage counseling because they are households and have no jobs or education -- no, that is not a typo; women are "households" and apparently all women in 2008 in California are without education and job skills.
*Oh, I forgot another great one -- the fact that a man who pays child support has more responsibility than a live-in father who actually raises the child.

The willful ignorance some people hold on to is just incredible. I mean, statements like "viruses aren't infectious in higher temperatures" without even bothering to wonder if this is true at all is disgusting. The only evidence she had for this was that she gets sicker in winter than in the summer. So really, the only "viruses" she was talking about were the flu or colds, ignoring viruses that affect millions of people who suffer from stale water that is worse and worse as temperatures rise. The virus comment was then followed by "higher temperatures will help people save money because they won't spend money on heat in the summer" - what about A/C you say? Covered -- she doesn't have air conditioning, so it won't affect HER. Marcello made a good point -- as long as things don't affect people DIRECTLY, they don't give a fuck.

Again, the willfulness to ignore other people's needs or concerns is so frustrating. I have to say, that this job has definitely opened my eyes to how many people lead their lives - either with their head in the sand, or with their eyes looking only in the mirror of their own immediate lives instead of sneaking a peak at the world around them.

This is one reason I really look forward to the move up north. I want to be around people who care at least a little bit about what happens in the world, and who think about the words they use, and their significance and impact. I understand that for many people, life is hard, much harder than it is for me, with the many advantages I have. I know that people work hard and long hours, have children to raise, homework to complete since they are also in college, and who knows what craziness is going on in their private life. But in this day and age, and especially living in California, there is no excuse for closed mindedness! (Is that closed minded of me to say that?!?!)

Oh this is giving me another headache. I think I prefer Henry James to essays lauding global warming!


OH OH I FORGOT THE BEST ONE!!!!
(Paper): "Children of divorce experience fatal and non-fatal injuries."
(Me): "I don't understand. What do you mean by this? This doesn't make sense."
(She): blank stare
(Me): "What injuries do children receive as a result of their parents' divorce?"
(She): "They have emotional pain."
(Me): "But 'fatal' means they die!"
(She): "Oh. I didn't know that. I mean that they have a hard time emotionally."
(Me): (and to myself): "Where's a wall? Must bang head against it. NOW!"

Nostalgia on the 57S

The hills to my left are covered in tall yellow wildflowers; the gloom and wind and yellow hills are free of worry, unlike the small and big and giant cars that trudge along that curve in the freeway every day. The cars look tired, like over-worked horses that day after day climb those hills. The people inside them could be young or old, but they are all looking forward and you can't really tell; but every now and then someone has a driver's side window rolled down, and you see a pink or brown or ensleeved elbow resting in the sun. At noon traffic is heavier than in the morning, a non-nonsensical equation waiting to be solved by traffic math geeks sitting in a cube. In the carpool lane, a white van with black windows drives slower than I wish to go, but I don't exit to pass because I like being in the far left where more and more you see the yellow stickers on the hippy cars. In the right line, small cars zoom from on ramps and proceed to cut off the slow giants in the second lane. The semis, the 18-wheelers, the flatbeds carrying tractors and pipes and crates let the small cars jump in front of them, like elephants indulging wild hares jumping around the their heavy feet. It is a cement jungle today on the 57S, and the daily migration is in full swing.

The people drive with their eyes forward. They make me sad. They make me want to think of happy things, and random memories pop up like fizz bubbles in mineral water, out of nowhere, out of inside.

I remember choreographing roller blading routines with Melissa when we were in 5th and 6th grades; we wanted to be the ice skating girls from the TV, and we got real good.

I remember college and Clockwork Orange on Friday nights even after we turned 21, and being able to dance in heels for hours but when we'd walk to the car my feet felt like they'd fall off.

I remember that first spring break with Marcello when I brought with me all my little skirts and platform shoes and it was too cold to wear any of it, but one night we listened to Sinatra for hours so it didn't matter anyway.

I remember when Nadine turned in "Malcolm in the Middle" and how giddy we were at her witty title, and how I made it through junior and senior year by using her laptop for all my all-nighters.

I remember driving to Santa Monica to my internship and going to lunch on the Promenade and thinking, this is the life.

I remember going to Romania and spending the hot summers driving around the country and singing along to silly pop songs with the windows down because he didn't have air conditioning.

I remember junior year and talking on my cell phone while sitting in the empty bathtub and the world felt so small and Nadine would come home and she would understand why I was sitting in that tiny tub with my jeans on and the cell phone running out of battery.

I remember thinking that life was going to be so much better when we graduated and life began and I can't remember why.

I remember moving to Hollywood and trying so hard to hold on to something because I couldn't face failing at one more thing that year.

I remember when in senior in high school a friend told me no one ever "feels" like an adult and how I didn't believe him until this year.

I think of the people on the 57S and wonder where they are all going and what some of them are thinking about, what memories bubble to the surface while they drive behind a Sentra with a smashed tail-light and an Oregon license plate. I wonder how many notice the yellow wildflowers that cover the hills. The wind makes waves among them, and the hill is a rolling yellow and green sea to the left and the right of the black cement scar that runs through it. In front of my I see the San Bernardino mountains, and one lone peak still shows a trace of white. I must exit the carpool to remain on the 57 and soon the 10 divides away; I am almost at school, and Brad Paisley is singing and brings me back to the moment at hand. The nostalgia is over and an aching for the near future takes over.

Like Billy Pilgrim, I have become unstuck in time today, as the past and the future bounce against one another and I don't know if when I get out of the car and put my feet on the ground I will be in the present. But I am, because parking was a pain and I hope I don't get a ticket parking in the staff lot, and I think that book was supposed to come today. I don't know where the past went and I don't have time to think about the future just now.

Jet Set

My whole life has been spent living out of suitcases -- packing, unpacking; packing, unpacking. Every day I feel grateful that I found a partner in crime who has likewise been blessed (or cursed?) with the itch to jet set, and together we are perfecting the jet setting couple lifestyle! I don't like to brag (yea ok I do, just a little) but there are definite perks to having a trans-California relationship. This past long weekend is a perfect example.

To start off, I got to fly off on Thursday night, a perfect way to turn my back on Burke and Kant! YAY! After attempting (weakly) to tackle Tristram Shandy on the plane, I decided that Glamour Magazine was much more mini-vacation material. After a lovely late night dinner date in San Jose, reveling in the chicken madeira at Cheesecake Factory, we had a great windy drive back to Santa Cruz, basking in Kenny Chesney and the fog.

On Friday, little Miss Spoiled slept in until -honestly- 1:15!!! That's half the day! I got so lost in those fluffy blankies that I couldn't peel myself out of them until I literally became ashamed of still being in bed. That night, we had a tasty health food/Mexican fusion dinner and saw Dan in Real Life at the Del Mar, which is always a fun adventure. Last time we were there, the guy at the candy counter gave me a free cookie! This time, no free cookie, but I did buy a vegan German chocolate cupcake which was pretty bomb! I call it the celebratory "4 years of knowing Marcello" cupcake. It even had a cute little frosting flower on top!

Not exactly the one we had, but close

Saturday morning, I did something I hardly ever do - I let myself be talked into waking up early on the weekend! YES! Because I was really excited to embark on the type of adventure I like bestest of all - road trip with my man! We were up, up, and away, heading to Point Reyes, which was about an hour away from San Francsico. We were armed with no map and no snacks, but lots of songs on the mp3 player! This was the first time I actually drove across the Golden Gate in years, and it was still as cool as I remembered it. We didn't really know much about Point Reyes, except what a British-published tour guide of California told us. We finally got to this beautiful peninsula, and though at first maybe a bit underwhelming, we had a great time enjoying the beautiful scenery. Sparkly blue ocean on the right, sparkly blue ocean on the left, rolling green hills between the asphalt and the sparkliness, and scattered across the rolling green hills, my favorite animal in the whole world -- the moo cow! Let me tell you, the commercials don't lie - happy cows DO come from California! They have a permanent beachside residence, rolling fog comes and cools them down, sunny Cali skies clear up to warm them, and they're milk cows, so they will be around for a while without the threat of being.. well you know. I won't mention it here. Okay so we had read that there's a nifty light house at the tip of the peninsula, and we decided to track it down. And oh goodness by the time we got there we were kind of over it, but we decided to go seek it out. So we park, and walk the half mile to - get this- the equivalent of thirty flights of stairs that take you down to the lighthouse! Yes, I said down. So Veronica gets all cocky and thinks, oh what's a few stairs? We can do it! So we walk down, and walk and walk, and get to the lighthouse, which is cool but let's be honest, it's a lighthouse. How overly exciting can it be? We take some pretty cute pictures, and decide to brave the walk up those same thirty flights of stairs. And little weakling Veronica nearly had a heart attack! I am SO inspired to get in shape now. Yes sir! By the time we made it back to the car all I wanted was FOOD! We snaked our way back into the itsy bitsy little towns on the way and got some really tasty pizza in Inverness (I think). Then, it was daring the traffic back time! YES! Having no map and only one good sense of direction between us, we got on and off freeways, on and off bridges, in and out of traffic, and went in or around or above, I have no idea now, the entire Bay Area. After a little fun stroll around Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco and even a bit of shopping, we decided it was time to call it a day, but not before ending up in San Mateo, indulging in some truly tasty rolls at Joy Sushi! If it wasn't for the hour's drive back, I'd say that was the perfect end to an adventurous day!

Point Reyes Lighthouse and Stairs!

Sunday was really chill, with American Gangster being the main attraction, and actually catching a matinee at the main Santa Cruz theater proved to be not such a horrible thing after all, though the girl next to me kept sending text messages. Oh well. I can't think of a hotter date than having three sexy men to focus on - my first ex-husband Russell, the hotness that is Denzel, and my own sexy man! Monday was study day, but really was spent mostly eating brownies, watching reality tv, and just a little bit of Melville. This morning, it was back to the airport again, with beautiful rolling fog and traffic reports that told us that cows and deer were causing havoc somewhere! No kidding! Cows and deer! When's the last time that was mystery behind LA traffic jams? In just a couple of hours, I was sitting at work in Norwalk, talking thesis statements, but still totally basking in the fact that in the last few days, I'd spent time in San Jose, Santa Cruz, the countryside outside San Francisco, the city of San Francisco, and San Mateo! And we just had the funnest little mini dates on the way, like the really fun dinner last night. I always knew ravioli are tasty, but who knew they're even better when they're deep fried!?

I guess the point of this blog is me just basking in the aftermath of a really great, relaxing, fun, and adventurous few days with my best buddy, even though right now he's 300 miles away.

Original post date: November 6, 2007

Venus

I know I say "I looove that movie!!" about a lot of films, but really -- I LOOOOVE this movie!!! As Peter O'Toole puts it in the interview that's on the DVD, "Venus" is "about a dirty old man and a sluttish young woman" -- but it is so much more. Really, it's about the unexpected joy that someone, really anyone, can possibly bring to our lives not only when we least expect it, but also when we may have forgotten that we can still experience that joy. The passion that the human body itself represents and is always empowered to instill in others is another main theme, humorously wrapped up by the strange relationship that strikes up between a brash, country teenage girl and a septagenarian ladies' man. "What interests you?" the young Jessie asks of old Maurice. "Pleasure interests me. I have tried to give pleasure," he replies. Now, in the last few weeks of his long life, at the end of a successful career, Maurice is unable to provide the sexual pleasure that he formelry could have, but he gives Jessie a much more important one - that of being listened to, taken care of, loved unquestionignly and unabashadly, a love that is part dirty old man and part fatherly protection.

Vanessa Redgrave also has a very small (three scenes) but quite memorable part, that of Maurice's wife. These two have shared decades of their lives, even after their marriage dissolved decades ago after another woman, she tells him, "took you away from us." Strong, funny, indominable, Maurice allows himself weakness in front of her, reflecting on another complex side of human relationships. "I loved you, for a time, and after that I was always very fond of you." Painful as the words are to say and hear, they perhaps encapsulate what many experience in marriages or in long friendships. Passion flares and fades, but that fondness that we grow to have for people is somehow relentless and more important than all the passionate sex in the world.

Peter O'Toole (above, in "Lawrence of Arabia") makes "Venus" such a sensitive, attentive movie. I loved watching it, and I seriously think you should go out and rent it right now! Special bonus is the super funny scene in which Maurice and his friend of 50 years get into a fight in their local cafe, hitting each other over the head with rolled up newspapers. My mother very poignantly remarked, "Oh, how foolish men are, even when they are old!"

Original post date: September 2, 2007

Moving On

I have lived in Hollywood for 14 months, and I gotta say, they have been some interesting 14 months. As I pack books into boxes and clothes into suitcases, there are some regrets... I regret that I did not entertain more at my apt; that I did not cook more; that I did not get around to painting my coffee table red like I had planned. I watched way too much Sex and the City instead of explore the Hollywood "scene" more, and I gathered too much stuff like my once-used Brita water filter, which decidedly left my drinking water tasting funky. I have way too many Cosmos lying around (do I throw them away??) and way too much pasta in my pantry! I'm glad I never took down my mini Christmas tree, although it must have gotten cramped stuck against the wall as it has been; I am glad I bought too many frames last summer during the Aaron Brothers Penny sale; I am so glad I got decent usage out of my piano these last few months. I wish I had not eaten at Palms Thai so many times (okay, that's a lie) and I wish I had vacuumed more often. Come to think of it, I wish I had aquired an actual vacuum cleaner! In short, in 14 brief months, these walls have been witnesses to so much growth, to so many tears, to so many crazy phone conversations with Nadine about things that are probably outlawed in some states. I remember the first couple of months here and how lonely I felt, and how odd life tasted. Like a stale Saltine cracker. I remember coming home from work all frazzled and depressed, hating my job, hating some of the people around me, hating this dirty, smelly apartment building! Like the old saying goes, when it rains it pours, and last summer was by far a long shot from being the highlight of this decade. In my scramble to find a (reasonably affordable yet livable) place, my path led me here, far from the UCLA and Westwood and Santa Monica areas I had become so accostomed to. I thought the drivers here were crazy, the streets shady, the people untrsustworthy, and the place SMELLED! I kid you not. For those who have visisted, you know what I am talking about, and it can be vile. In a flash, college was gone, my staggering-along relationship was gone, an 8-year friendship was gone, people I cared about were scattered throughout the state and country, my job (or rather, some people at work) were starting to seriously suck, and everything seemed to be going down the shit hole. One highlight was getting to stare for an hour at Johnny Depp and then nearly touch him. Nearly. I almost cried when my camera ran out of battery and I couldn't take a decent picture. Damn you, battery! Yet nothing was ever out of my control. I spent months wallowing. I, wallowing! How dissappointing. Eventually I stopped noticing the smelly hallways and took pleasure in being at home by myself instead of feeling lonely. And I guess that was the turning point, that moment when instead of feeling sorry for myself I started seeing all the great sides to my situation. I was independent, still employed, had gotten my degrees, no one was telling me what to do, how to do it, and why, there was no boy influencing my decisions... As Christmas aproached and the New Year neared, I started realizing I couldn't wait for 2005 to be over so that 2006 would be a fresh, different, empoweing new start. And so far it has lived up to those expectations. I am in my first serious AND fulfilling relationship, and I have finally found out what it means to be with a "man" and not a "boy"friend (although honey sometimes you are such a kid, and I love it); I have gone to New York where I met jazz violing-playing doctors and struggling stand-up comedians; visited my family in Romania where I watched my parents renew their vows in my grandmother's village church; I took a boat ride down the Seine with my parents in Paris, and saw Parisian teenagers moon us... Not to mention that I got to know my boyfriend's friends a lot better (and some of their parents too, Andy!) on trips to Santa Cruz where I traveled on a freeway in the middle of the forest, and to San Diego, where I found myself staring at go go girls in the rain on St. Paddys. Wow, it has been a good travel year for me! I guess now I just have to travel 34 miles (from Highland Park, duh) away from here. Who knows what moving from my own place to a rented room will entail? Who knows what grad school will be like? Who knows where I will be 14 months from now? I sure as hell don't. All I know is I have a vague idea of where I want to be. I think a year from now I will be halfway done with my master's degree, and one year smarter in the ways of the world. I have the best support in my corner at the moment, leaving me free to feel excited and empowered, albeit sad for many of the things I am leaving behind or that will have to adjust. I will miss holing up for a weekend of Star Wars marathons, and having way too much Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper in my own fridge, and having my own big lovely bed!! Oh how I will miss my bed, even if it does squeak. I will miss having people crashing at my place, but maybe not some of the reprecussions; I will miss saying "I live on my own" and I will definitely miss not having homework!! I know that for sure. But I won't miss the crazy parking or the snail-paced elevator. But the thing I will miss least of all is this sentiment of waiting... waiting around for life to change, being in limbo. As great as the last five months have been, this constant expectation that life will change (but not yet!) has been getting to me. Finally, pleasant or not, life is going on. C'est la vie.

Original post date: August 16, 2006

Analysis of Contemporary Romantic Poetry

I know that we are all modern and have become almost completely desensitized to the old-world concepts of romance, chivalry, mystique, and courtship, but sometimes one has to step back in wonder at the poetic lyrics that some of our finest young musical sensations are putting out there. Last night, because I am an insomniac and was still awake at 2, I tried to come up with a list of my favorite really bad, crude lyrics. Since I apparently have nothing better to do before 10 in the morning, since the Copy Center is sloooooow at this time (college students aren't up yet, duh), I was going to proceed to make up a little list of my favorite summer lewdness that assaulted my dainty virginal ears this summer. All were songs that to a degree I enjoyed and "bumped" to, so these were not going to songs that I was to criticize, merely comment on their combined effort to kill romance. After starting to make up the list, however, I decided a far more rewarding experience would be a close analytical look at what was going to be in the number one song for least romantic and most lewd (and therefore most fun to write about).

This great honor I am bestowing upon none other than E-40's "U and Dat". To begin with, E-40, what exactly does this mean? "Girl, I been shaking and acting a donkey tryna to get you and that monkey"? What does "acting a donkey" mean? I mean, it means you're acting like an ass (literally), but WHY are you acting like an ass in order to get to a girl's... monkey? I can only speculate what he means by "monkey," aided by a vivid imagination and word association games that link monkey to banana and banana to a man's organ. I find it slightly disturbing that instead of being won over and seduced by a man's chivalry, girls have come to give it up to asses. Long gone are the days of sonnets under the moonlight, flowers, love songs and whispered sweet nothings. Maybe those days were full of sugarcoated hypocrisy, but at least you went to sleep sighing, thinking you were special, instead of going to bed knowing that if it wasn't you, it was some other ho and that to him you aren't even a woman, but merely a body that comes equipped with... a monkey.

Moving on with the lyrics. E-40 proceeds to tell us about how he propses to win the fair maiden's monkey. "I walk up in the club with a limpin (Limpin) God listen, what you gonna do, with this pimpin." What am I going to do, E-40? Get you a walking stick, some crutches? Why are you limping? What happened to the days when physical appearance was attractive because it was exactly that-- attractive? When men dressed in clothes that fit them, walked with correct posture, opened their eyes when looking at a woman instead squinting through beady little eyes?

Just when we thought everything was going so well (he's limpin' along, twisting and shaking and being a donkey), E-40 steps up his game by apparently approaching the girl and telling her more precisely what is on his mind: "Oooh, your ass is right I aint tryna let that pass me tonight I'm a put my bid in and tell you something slick Whisper in your ear while I'm holding my dick I don't mean no harm, it's the hood in me." Oh, you don't mean no harm? But you are approaching a woman who you are trying to seduce while holding on to your what? Ok, now this is where I start to feel just a little bit offended. Fine, you need to do your little shake-n-bake dance, and limp along because you think it makes you look bad-ass. I will understand that there are some mating rituals that you may feel the need to perform, but fellas, under no circumstances is it all right to approach a woman and make advances towards her while holding on to ANY part of your body. Unless you cover your heart and tell her you have been struck by love at the sight of her beauty which surely is a shell hiding an angel. (HA)

After a short interchange between the object of his affection (sic), we are let to understand that this woman is apparently his soul mate, because she is digging his rough attitude and strong pimp-ness! To her positive reply, E-40 then follows with the summer's absolute best lewd lyric: "You looking like you got that good gooshy, gooshy Fucking round with me, I beat the brakes off that pussy Have your ass cumming like a porn star movie Tell your friends and I bet they all wanna do me." Let's ignore the "gooshy gooshy" (after all, this is the closest we've come to those whispered sweet nothings) and the fact that I have no idea what "beat the breaks off that pussy" means (I wasn't aware we women come equiped with breakes down there. Apparently this girl is not lacking an accelerator though). I find fascinating that he (and more disturbingly, that she) is comfortable with the fact that he tells her he wants to have her ass cumming like a porn star movie. That has to be the most vivid image of raunchy, hot, dirty sex I have heard in a very long time. Not that I am arguing against such lovely activities, I am only saying that the boundaries of chivalry here are completely erased, the border between the land of romance and the land of sex have so completely been obliterated that our standards of courtship are now set by pornography and acts that to this day remain illegal (unfortunately) in some states of our great Union.

To top off the demise of romance, which has traditionally been a monogamous (at least in name) practice, E-40 then beats the final nail in the coffin of sentimentality, by promising the girl that not only will he have her ass cumming like a porn star movie, but that he will make her want to share him with all of her friends. We are now free to whip out our handkerchief and wave goodbye to the Love Boat, as it has clearly sailed away.

Thank God we still have the Nick Lacheys of this world to remind us what real love is.

Original post date: September 22, 2006

"Under" Kicks "New" Ass

Close your eyes and try to imagine the scene... You are in a dark room, surrounded by strangers, the atmosphere is of excited expectation. You know the feeling well, the possibility that what you are about to experience will be something to remember. After half an hour of fast-paced, loud foreplay, you settle down for the main event. You are about to watch a much talked-about and anticipated film, in this case, "The New World." Keep in mind you had planned to go to the movies all day to watch "Underworld," but at the last second, a decision was made to watch this instead, because after all, it is much more your taste. So "The New World" it is.

To say that this movie was a dissappointment would be the biggest negative hyperbole of the year. There is virtually no dialogue, and of the little talking that does occur, most of it is as voiceovers. The cinematography might be a redeeming point for some moviegoers, but personally I was over the swaying fields of high grass and the rain pitter pattering into the river after the first 25 times. While the 13-year old (at the time of filming) Q'Orianka Kilcher who plays Pocahontas (we are never told her name) is "totally believable" as a fresh-faced, wide-eyed, vibrant and loveable character, most of the other actors are very oddly casted. Colin Farrel is unusually unlikeable as John Smith; the fact that Pocahontas was attracted to him and fell in love with him makes her seem all that more naive, because honestly, he's not that great a catch. Well, ok yes he is the best-looking of the bunch, considering every one else is either old, dying or semi-putrid already. Then there is Christian Bale, so ODD as John Rolfe, the loyal and loving husband who I found myslef rooting for. The romance b/w Rolfe and "Rebecca" (Pocahontas's Christian name) is so much more interesting and realistic than that b/w her and Smith that it really makes us not have much sympathy for this love that changed the course of the world.

Even James Horner's score was a let down. If I hear another tinkly tune on the piano I'm going to hurl. Still impressed by Geisha's score, I have high standards for my big-movie music, and this was definitely a miss.

So no dialogue, crappy casting, irritating music and FUCK it drags on and on... PEOPLE ACTUALLY LEFT THE THEATER. And im not talking about that one person who gets the urgent phone call mid-film. Several people actually walked out. And there were more than a couple paying customers who fell asleep during the ordeal.

CHECK IT, YO: http://www.gayot.com/lifestyle/movies/reviews/2006/the_new_world.html

It was so bad that we decided, despite the fact that it was getting super late, to sneak into "Underworld."

Yes, there are a couple cheesy scenes (someone PLEASE stop making people make out in the middle of catastrophe... NO ONE, not even if they got the chance to kiss Kate Beckinsale (who is super sexy in this movie) would stop in the middle of a werewolf fight to make out. sorry), and it is gorry as all hell, but in a very fun kind of way. And yea the dialogue isnt award-winning, although a couple lines were pretty smart actually and stuck with me after the credits rolled... But all in all, I have to say that Underworld was a fast-moving, action-packed tale of retaliation and setting wronged things right. Would I recommend people go watch it? Not necessarily, unless you are deciding b/w this and "The New World." At least in this one you get one hot sex scene b/w Kate and Scott Speedman (lot's of near-crotch shots, and I gotta say that girl has a sweet stomach); you also get lots of gross-out close-ups of werewolves changing from people into creepy, hairy, teethy things, there is a threesome scene, a father-sons moving (somewhat) back story, and ultimately, a cheesy romance. When faced with choosing between that and a dull, overly-long historical drama/romance, the choice is clear. "Underworld all the way." A great way to end an otherwise 'cultured,' peaceful, happy, beautiful day and a very satisfying weekend.

Original post date: January 23, 2006

The Big (Blog) Move

Although I began In Vero Veritas with the full intention of keeping it as my main blog, I found it difficult to cut ties with blogging on MySpace. However, I think the time has come that I either blog just on here, or at least enter entries both here and MySpace; now, to kind of move things along, I think I may transfer over some of my entries.