these wide open spaces

Betty got a fancy new security system Saturday, and a radio that doesn't hold the frequencies. She's going back on account of the static-y radio, a problem that I never had even when it was just a factory radio and definitly not when it was the $150.00 JVC. Pioneer is supposed to be a good brand and the recommendation for this place came high, so I hope they can fix the problem. The owner of the shop assured me that I should just bring her in if there were ANY problems or if I had ANY questions, even if it were something that could be answered in the Owner's Manual. well, I looked in the Owner's Manual and there's nothing about repairing static-y reception.

The alarm works like a dream so far. It unlocks the doors for me when I turn off the engine (which I don't like) and it locks them for me when I hit reverse (which I don't need). Apparantly, there are a lot of lazy people out there who don't lock and unlock their own doors. The little button is right there beside my elbow, it's really not a stretch to reach for it. But there IS a bright, neon blue light that you can see for miles and miles winking from the dashboard and I love that. If that little flashing light isn't a deterent then I don't know what is. Maybe the club stretched across the steering wheel and braced between the door and the seat.

I'm still exhausted and now there's a rather insistent headache throbbing behind my eyes. I'd like to take a pill and sleep it off. Sleep for hours and days until my eyes aren't sandpaper gritty or achingly heavy. Too bad there's stuff to do, like taking Betty back to Sound Tech and going to the Police Station to pick up a copy of the police report to send in with the parking tickets that I will not be paying. I also need to apply to jobs and clean my room and do a couple of loads of laundry. There's a rough draft for an essay on BtVS as feminist text written in long hand that needs to be typed up and revised. I need to complete the reviews for My Super-Ex Girlfriend and The Brave One. There's a long list of movies that I've seen recently. I'd like to review them all, but well, we'll see. There's also the review for The Looking Glass Wars that I'm trying to gently curb. It's looking very much like an anti-rec at the moment and it's very long. Then there's what will be my lynnevitational fic and I feel as if I could work on it. I'd also like to squeeze in time to read Threshold, it's been in my purse for a week and I'm only on page 33. That fact has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the novel and everything to do with my severe lack of time. I can't read it at night before bed because once I start reading, time evaporates on me -- gone in sixty seconds -- and we're still having that sleep issue so the earlier I hit the sack, the better.

I tried to sleep in this weekend and never made it past 7.30.

There really aren't enough hours in a day. And that is annoying. I always think, well there's always the weekend. There are plenty of hours in the weekend, but inevitably those hours end up slipping by while I'm doing something unplanned and unexpected. Saturday, Betty got her flashy new alarm and the stereo that doesn't quite work, and then I helped ZuZuQ paint the walls in her new digs. Turns out I'm good at painting walls. Sunday I picked up a new TV stand and then rearranged the living room. It looks a shambles in there because I was too tired to clean it properly afterwards. It took hours and hours to do what I did do because first the old entertainment center had to be deconstructed and then the new one re-assembled, then there were sundry wires that had to be re-connected and plugs that needed to be re-plugged. There's a lot more floor space now, with the couchs moved and the smaller TV stand not taking up a quarter of the room, so I did stretch out and enjoy the floor for a few minutes.

I had to go to the market, too, before it got to late and Costco closed. Then there was dinner to make and a little ice cream to eat and I ended up passed out on the corner of my bed right after while trying to watch What Not to Wear. I woke up in time for an episode of The Unbeatable Banzuke and Mr. Ninja Warrior doing 200-some-odd push-ups in the Muscle challenge. He didn't win, unfortunately, he never wins anything. Poor Guy.

So, now, here I am, working at a job that I don't like with a list of things that need doing, including finding a new job that I *do* like. I'm really distracted and I'd rather be asleep or writing or getting Betty's radio fixed or flirting with the baby baristas I met on Saturday while Betty was getting her innards prodded. One of them called me ma'am and I almost fell out on the floor. I made him apologize and promise not to do it again.

Movie: The Brave One (2007)

Let me start off by saying that I loved this flick. I hesitate to read reviews prior to seeing a movie because I prefer to draw my own conclusions and work out my own opinions as uninfluenced by the so-called "experts" as possible. Usually the "experts" are critical snobs unable to just sit back, relax and enjoy a film for what it is and not wait for it to turn into what they expect (or would like) it to be. After I see a film, critic reviews are fair game. I glossed over a few reviews of The Brave One but largely decided to ignore critic responses because really, I wasn't interested. I noticed that The Brave One drew comparisons to two other vigilante noir films, Ms. 45 and (most predominantly) Death Wish. Well I've never seen either, mostly because I am not a fan of this particular genre and also because I have never been a fan of Charles Bronson. Eastwood and I developed an appreciation for each other over the years, beginning with my mom somehow allowing me to see Play Misty For Me way back in the day. Bronson has never rocked my socks and I definitely never had a desire to flirt. Somehow, I seriously doubt that Death Wish managed the kind of subtletly and nuance that The Brave One, especially Jodie Foster, does.

The Brave One isn't just a vigilante film. Erica Bain isn't just a vengeful "super-cunt," a la Ms. 45, rampaging across the city murdering people. Reading plot synopsis of both Death Wish and Ms. 45, I was very surprised at the comparisons. The Brave One, IMHO, transcends the vigilante/film noir label and incorporates psychological drama, possibly elevating the genre into something far more nuanced, artistic, and empathetic. I say possibly only because I don't want to imply that the other two films don't measure up because of categorical labels and the associated expectations which, I still think, The Brave One manages to work around. I was surprised by the way that the ending played out and I continue to have reservations about the film's resolution, but as a whole, I really, really enjoyed it.

( I always believed that fear belonged to other people. Weaker people. It never touched me. And then it did. And when it touches you, you know... that it's been there all along. Waiting beneath the surfaces of everything you loved. )

Movie: My Super Ex-Girlfriend (2006)

Sadly enough, it was largely unfunny and uninteresting. I love Uma Thurman and I love Luke Wilson, but apparently they are two great tastes that do not taste great together. I am curious as to what it was about the script that attracted them.

( Why did G-Girl throw a shark at us? )