Wolverine – A review

December 30, 2009

I’ve always liked Hugh Jackman, long before anyone else liked him. I liked him in that time travel/romantic comedy with Meg Ryan, and I liked him as Rodey St James of Kensington, the rat from “Flushed Away”. Needless to say, I luurrv him as Wolverine. His ridiculously long sideburns, his strange, tribal hair-do and let us not forget his back. His beautiful, rippling back… Honestly, the metal claws are a mere Halloween add-on.

 Anyhoo, getting to the actual movie, X-Men Origins, Wolverine. It’s a prequel, basically detailing his life from child-hood (though brief) through the ages (you’ll have to figure it out for yourself since the year appears at the bottom of the screen at the beginning of the film… yes, you can do mental arithmetic) and up to the point where you meet him in the first X-Men film, all angry and amnesiad… We finally get to figure out how the hapless young Logan came to possess an indestructible metal skeleton. The great battle happens for James Logan (we get his first name in this one) with his brother who has many of the same mutant attributes. Sort of wolfy. There’s action, a crap load of action, from start to finish. If you’re casting around for something that your boyfriend / Hubby will appreciate while you can feast on that fabulous back, then this is the one to get. So in short, wall-to-wall action with some naked Hugh Jackman in.

Of course you’ll have to suspend disbelief for most of the film, but that’s what comic-book movies are all about. Gambit makes his debut and we get a brief look at the teen-age Cyclops.

If you enjoyed the previous X-Men films, you’ll REALLY appreciate this one

Favourite Scene – Wolverine emerging naked and screaming from a vat of liquid completely naked.

Favourite Lines – Bar-Maid: “Are you drinking to forget?”

                                     Logan: “No, I’m drinking to remember”

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The Other Secret

November 3, 2009

 

A while back, everybody was making a big deal about “The Secret”… Some secretive thing that people could go out and buy a book to get… *pfft* some secret!  I was far too lazy to bother reading it myself, but from what I could gather, it had something to do with positive thinking and some new age crap about bringing good things your way *rolls eyes*

 So here is my secret, which, dear reader, in the grand tradition of secrets, I’m expecting you to keep secret (see what I did there?)

One of my first jobs was at an art supplies, framing shop and gallery in Pretoria run by a venerable old German family. Back then, it was 100 yrs old. The owner had many interesting anecdotes about their regular shoppers through the years who turned out to be people like Walter Battis, Betty Cilliers-Barnard and Pierneef. He also had an incredible instinct for appraising the value of even the most contemporary art. One day I asked him how to become a successful artist. Because from what I could gather, just being good didn’t seem to cut it. There are lots of famous people peppered through history who, although competent, weren’t the best in their fields. He made a point of asking me to define “successful”. After all, just producing a good painting would surely do. I explained that my definition would be to actually sell the art work, and not just once, but a lot… to make a really good living out of it. He nodded sagely and simply said, “you stay in it for long enough”. I was bitterly disappointed at the time, but left it at that.

Over the years I have had the good fortune to see friends and family build and develop in themselves but also in their activities, and of all of the various methods they apply, there is one glaringly obvious constant. The stay in it for long enough… An old school friend of mine studied journalism at Rhodes University. I remember sitting with her over a beer three years ago. She said that although she’s producing some pretty good South African programs, what she would really like to do is write…  As time passed I would see more or less of her, depending on how much work she had, and all the time she ferreted away and paid her dues. Things started coming through for her when she got a gig writing for a local sit com, and then a youth romance series… Last week I heard that she’s currently writing for something like three soap operas. She doesn’t even have time to watch them anymore. Is she done? I don’t think so…. She’s in the process of “staying in it long enough”. The same can be said for another friend who, against all logical reason, left her day job to start a bakery with her partner. People were skeptical and she got a lot of flack for it. Slowly though, she started turning down social engagements “I have a wedding cake”… Now days when I call her, I’m on speaker phone because her hands are permanently dipped in confectionary. Is she done yet? Hell no!

Yet another friend gave up his shares in a web design company to go solo and start working with his own, tiny customer base. It was rough because on principle, he refused to take any customers from his previous company. That was about 2 years ago, and now I have to squeeze time in with him on week ends because he is swamped and loving it.

All this time I’ve been out here, trying to figure out the secret to getting successful with something I actually want to do with my life, and there are these people all around me, just doing it.

Of course these people work very hard, and probably don’t always have perfectly smooth experiences. It also helps that they had a fair amount of experience and natural talent to start off with. Maybe it’s not a secret at all. Maybe people just don’t like the long-term investment that it takes. It’s not easy and I reckon it takes a certain brand of courage to go through that grind over and over again, sometimes risking a lot, other times, just the last flailing embers of your pride. You need big balls of hair… Big Ones.  

I like something Thomas Edison said when queried about having experimented 1000 times on the light bulb before it finally worked… He shrugged and said “I found 1000 ways not to do it”.

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A brief philosophy

September 28, 2009

I’ve been fascinated lately by the power of increments… (note “15 minutes post”… ) It’s like there are two people. Menow and Laterme, and whatever Menow does, is going to be felt by Laterme. It’s the old hangover philosophy. Have now, pay later? Or pay now and have later? I’m tired of cursing Menow every time I’ve had to sit up late, doing something at the last minute or spent all my luxury money and had to sit with nothing at the end of the month…

The thing is. I think it comes down to constant work, and that’s what makes it so unattractive. Because Laterme is also Menow. You can’t just be one at a time. You can’t just languish as Laterme, because then the even Laterme will suffer…  I guess the trick is to accept that life is hard work. This really does count for everything, not just worky work. Relationships, a clean home, working on your talents and dreams. To be in a constant state of Menow. Hhhmm… That sounds quite mystical ;)

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Cabin Fever

September 22, 2009

I’ve often wondered why it is that people with more time, do less with it than people with less time… I’ve been at home with Bab 2.0 now for 2 months and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. When I was preggers and working, I just couldn’t wait to be sitting at home. I had this whole mental list of things I was going to do. Clean out the garage, sort out old clothes, start baking things… *pfft*. Instead, I can hardly muster the energy to shower in the mornings. I’m just a human pair of tits, lying in the shade and feeding my offspring… It occurs to me that self discipline actually takes a lot more when there’s no driving force behind it. I was chatting to a few pals the other day over a glass of wine and got myself signed up for an exhibition in 6 months… yes… an art exhibition, with a minimum of 10 pieces per artist. I reckon I’m gonna have to go conceptual and do stuff like shitting on a brick and calling it “the breakdown of capitalism” or something… *chews fingernails* No! I refuse to become one of those people who sink into obscurity and start smelling funny. Tomorrow morning, I’ll start… Watch this space!

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15 Minutes

September 8, 2009

I once read somewhere that you could achieve something specific by concentrating on it properly for just 15 minutes a day. The idea here is to pick something, say, learning a new language or mastering something physical, like juggling, by doing it every day, consistently for 15 minutes. I decided to start applying this idea to my home. It’s been in desperate need of a revamp, but what with two new kiddies, the money hasn’t really been available to do it properly, so I’ve just left it. Then I had this epiphany. If I applied myself properly to things like the curtain rails, peeling paint and general horribleness every day for just a short while, over time, it would “fix itself”. I’m only about two weeks into the project and I must admit its working. Being broke I’ve had to improvise and I’m actually coming up with some pretty cool solutions to things.

 Maybe it’s because I’m getting a bit older now (all of 31 yrs) and realizing the “power of increments”. We live in a fast food society. Nothing seems worth doing if it doesn’t provide an immediate visible result. Look at fad diets that advertise the loss of centimeters in a week or the pain medication that promises immediate relief. I may be getting overly philosophical here but I firmly believe that this mindset goes against the natural rhythm of things. Having kids actually puts that into perspective. It feels like forever before your kid is on solids, and then suddenly, they are. It wasn’t immediate. It was a long process consisting of tiny daily feeds that slowly became more and eventually settled into the norm. The same can be said for saving money, paying off debt, building your dream home or simply building your dreams. If you work on writing a book, or finishing a painting or simply cleaning out your cupboards, try the 15 minutes a day approach. At some point, it’ll be finished. The important thing is to actually start, make a point of doing it every day and not to mind when it’s completed.

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I am Legend… Will Smith alone in the world with his favorite person… Will Smith

September 7, 2009

When it comes to post apocalyptic dystopian science-fiction, you can’t beat panoramic views of New York in various states of overgrown decay. Hell, it worked for Twelve Monkeys, Wall E and Cloverfield!* The difference here is that for some inexplicable reason, like in Twelve Monkeys, the city is inhabited by roaming packs of wild animals. I don’t want to speculate, but based on movies, the New York zoo must be the most dangerous place in the world to visit… what with wild animals just randomly running off whenever they feel like it (a la Madagascar et el).

Anyhoo, I don’t want to plant any spoilers, but I’ll give a basic synopsis. There’s been some terrible disease or virus thingy that has wiped out the majority of the human race. Will Smith is the last man alive in New York and lives a strangely regimented existence with his dog. Here’s the twist, the people haven’t died though, they’ve zombified. Thankfully they can’t come out in the day. If popular culture has tought us anything (and it hasn’t) zombies, like vampires, are extremely light sensitive. As an added stroke of luck, Will happens to be a medical, scientist type. He spends his days trying to find a cure and the rest of the time fighting zombies with his gigantic ebony arms of death.  

It’s the sort of film you either love or hate. The acting is pretty good if you consider that virtually the whole  film has him talking to himself or a dog.

 Favorite Part of the film: Will tries to hit on a showroom dummy in a CD shop… Predictably, she snubs him.

 *I know Wall E and Cloverfield were made after. Why don’t you come and write this review for me you knit picker!

 

Now, for those who’ve seen it:

 

 

 

 

SPOILER WARNING

 

 

 

 

 

There was an alternative ending in the book. Basically he discovers that the zombies are sentient and that for them, he is the monster… hence “I am Legend”…

They decided to change the ending in the film because test audiences “didn’t respond well to the original idea”  *tsk*

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The toddler, one of natures’ lesser known predators…

September 3, 2009

My first born is coming on two years old. I’d heard rumors of the “terrible twos” and put it down to retarded people who couldn’t handle their kids. I hang my head in shame now and admit whole heartedly that toddlers are the most masterful little manipulators on the planet. If my daughter was old enough to play chess, she’d be trumping Chekov. Why you might ask? Let me put it this way. Their entire offensive strategy rests on the weaknesses of their minions… Mum and Dad. They train their surprisingly advanced guidance systems on any and all weaknesses that may be used in their favor. “Reporting: The minion known as Mummy is tired and breastfeeding my nemesis (newborn sister)… Launch a pre-emptive strike by grinding this biscuit into a fine paste and rubbing it into the sole of her shoe. Add some juice for good measure and a dog turd, just to drive the point home” And what is the point? Attention. She’s getting more than she’s ever gotten in her life before because the minions are concerned about her delicate psychological state now that there’s a new kid in the house. This is not enough though. Whenever she sees me breastfeeding Bab 2.0, she reasons that I’m holding out on her… The result is the slow mental breakdown, similar to water torture where she does not let me out of her sight. I sometimes think that she’d be happy to shove her head up my arse. The only way is to stand our ground and ride it out. If she wins the war, who knows what horrific future lies ahead for the people of this household!

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Indiana Jones and the island of the glass looking skull thingy…

March 26, 2009

 I am a VERY big Indiana Jones fan. It’s not just Harrison Ford, or the snakes, or the whip, or the Nazis or the defiant women who alternatively slap and then snog Indie. It’s the package. The rip roaring roller coaster of guns, mummies, weirdo pygmy natives, crashing planes, swords, sinking ships, deserts, palaces, jungles, pyramids and crypts. Not least of all the fascinating plots which, let’s be totally fair here, are generally based on the thinnest tissue of historical fact.  

You can imagine the heart pulpatations I got when early one morning, the news came via an annoyingly up-beat breakfast D.J, that the 4th was soon to be released in SA. With sweaty palms I went to the website and hungrily ate up all the bits of news and gossip I could scrounge. Finally, Hubby, myself and my 7 month old daughter stood in the queue, bought the tickets, and sat down in the slightly musty, plush seats.

Indiana Jones is older, and it’s no longer the 2nd world war. This should be fairly obvious since Harrison Ford couldn’t possibly play a thirty or even forty something anymore. This plays off somewhere in the 50’s during the cold war. There’s a lot of phobia about communists and a truly talented Kate Blanchet who plays a Ukranian commie dominatrix. I missed a chunk of the beginning because my daughter projectile vomited butternut purity all over a very sweet aging couple next to us, but Indie gets into a fridge and somehow survives an atomic blast.

There’s a bit that has that guy from “transformers” in it. I think he turns out to be Indie’s long lost son but I can’t be sure because my daughter had started farting like a race horse and needed to be taken out of the theater to go and do her unholy work away from innocent viewers. Anyhoo… There’s a crystal skull, and some carnivorous insects a la Macgyver (if you’re old enough to remember the famous “ants” episode).

One of my favorite lines:  

Indie: “So what are you? A triple agent?

Baddie: “Nah, I just lied about being a double”  

It’s a great film, it really is. There’s a twist at the end that really isn’t a twist at all and the girl is “Marion”, the same one from “Raiders”.

For the record, I might have had more to say if I’d seen more :(

*tsk* parenthood

 

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Work, Money, Babbies…

March 24, 2009

 

 

I haven’t posted in a while, so let me bring you up to speed. I am pregnant AGAIN… I finally gave birth to a beautiful and feisty little girl who is 18 months old now and turning into a little Adolf Hitler around the house. The reason for getting knocked up all over again is that Hubby and I made the, maybe not totally wise, decision to get the sprogging over with fairly quickly, so that I could get on with the job of raising them. After this though, I can assure you, I’m closing the freggin factory! For the record, the birth was lovely, no wind tunnel, no weirdness. It’s lots of being tired, but you get through it.  

 

The ongoing issue, and I’m sure in the current economy, a lot of people would agree, is money. It’s not that there isn’t any around, it’s just getting a hold of some that seems to be the catch now days. I know a guy who’s wife is a “housewife”. That’s cool, there are lots of people at our church who have small children and have decided to spend this rare time at home with them, but I have some issues with the implications. This guy recently had to take a bit of a pay-cut at work. His daughter is 7 yrs old and already going to school. They don’t have any other kids. They have one car, which his wife uses to drop the kid and drive to gym in the mornings. He takes the bus to work. They have a maid and a large house with a fairly huge monthly bond payment. As far as I can tell, the wife has made no effort to try and make extra cash. Her husband has since taken an extra job, doing translation at night and on week ends to make ends meet…

 

I don’t know why, but this really irritates me. A LOT. I feel really sorry for the guy. I think he is taking a lot of strain as the “provider” and it sounds to me as if his wife is just happily putting along with her subsidised life. I don’t understand the dynamics, but it still seems pretty messed up to me. I don’t think I could do that. I was at home for 6 months with my daughter at which point I had stopped breastfeeding and I also realised that Hubby couldn’t take the financial strain anymore. I was so paranoid about day-care that I took a job for a couple of months at her school just to make sure they were a decent facility and not a bunch of psychopaths. I also made a point of researching the pros and cons of sending a kid to day-care at such a young age… It turned out that apart from the mutant germs they pick up in the first few years, kids who start socialising with their peers early tend to do very well by the time they get to school! I made the decision that if I was going to send my kids to day-care, I wasn’t going to regret it later… not ever.  

 

This is where the money issue comes in. As pathetic as my career growth seems at the moment (two pregnancies in almost as many years), I am continuing to earn money. This goes to things like debt, upkeep and obviously day-care. In a way, it sometimes feels as though it’s being thrown into a bottomless pit, but it isn’t. Every cent I make now is an investment in my children’s future. This is the difference between a decent study fund and maybe none at all. Let’s say I decide to spend the next five years at home with my kids. That’s FIVE YEARS SALARY that may one day pay for their weddings or help them with their first car….  The intersting thing is that I have a really happy family. My daughter LOVES school. She gets lots of interesting toys and games that she wouldn’t get at home. Hubby is happy because his salary covers the things they need to and he has no stress. We have a relaxed, stress-free home. Part of  it is also the fact that when the mother works, she is forced to develop a good routine for her family and her kids. This is one of the main reasons that my toddler is about as disciplined as toddlers get (it’s a fine line ;)  

 

Anyhoo. I think women should become tougher. It’s not always easy and I certainly wouldn’t judge a woman who chooses to stay with her baby for as long as she can. From a personal perspective though, if it’s causing stress in the home, that’s not a worthwhile sacrifice.

   

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Confessions of a pregnant werewolf

June 24, 2007

Six and a half months and counting…  and I swear, the next time a complete stranger comes and rubs my tummy, I’m gonna punch them! What makes them think they’re entitled to invade your personal space just because there’s a baby in there? I mean, do people walk up to non pregnant people and randomly touch their torsos? The worst is, I make jokes about it, I’ll say things preemptively, like “ha ha, I’m so glad you haven’t touched my stomach yet, I hate it when people do that” and then…. Get this, they do it anyway! Like THEY”RE special! AAARRRGGG! 

Also, I’m tired of war stories. You wouldn’t believe the crap I’ve heard. “I was in labour for 3 days and they didn’t cut me, so I tore” Blech!“Oh it’s the most painful thing you’ll ever experience, you’ll wish you’d died”, and my favorite, “sex will never be the same, you’re vaj will basically be a wind tunnel.” It’s disgusting. These women seem to get a kind of sick pleasure out of making you wish you’d never let Hubby come near you in the first place. The “boere raad” is also classic… “Oh, it must be a girl because little boys aren’t scared of you” or “yes, you’re getting a lot of heart-burn, that means you’re kid is going to have a lot of hair when it’s born” 

Say what? 

The other day Hubby and I walked past a little girl you reached her hand out of her pram and reverently stroked the edge of my jacket. As we walked away Hubby asked why she hadn’t paid attention to him. “It’s like in Alien 3,”  I replied, “they know I’m carrying one of them”

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