Randomness

Ah bloggery...scarcely a day has gone by that I haven't felt slightly guilty for not posting. But there's always something else, usually not important, to do. And now that I have final papers to write, papers to grade, lessons to plan, grades to calculate, I find myself blogging. A nagging little voice in the back of my head says, think of your Marlowe paper. This same voice also protested when I ate Easter chocolate two hours before bedtime. My voices are like that--practical, always right, and so annoying.


I've just returned home from rehearsing what has to be the coolest end-of-term assignment ever. Instead of writing more half-assed 20 page papers that never end up being more than 15, my Mystery Plays class is putting on a public performance of the Towneley Second Shepherds' Play. On Friday the 13th, no less! I play Daw, the embittered third Shepherd with a surprisingly soft heart under his tough exterior. This role, though not as difficult as that of the wily, sheep-stealing Mak, has been fairly demanding. Not only must I strut around in cowboy boots that give me blisters (alas!), I must sing "Angels We Have Heard on High," "Joy to the World" and a modified version of "The Last Saskatchewan Pirate" ("I'm going to be a shepherd on the North Saskatchewan") in public. Just so you know, I'm not a singer. I have to crawl on the floor, jump up and down, threaten people with my fists, and physically drag a struggling Mak off stage to toss him in a blanket. It is not all easy, but it has been a good time. It's like a Sunday School Christmas concert gone horribly but beautifully awry.


Speaking of Sunday School, did you all check out The Ten Commandments this weekend? So hot! This is the third or fourth Easter that I've tried to watch it, but I've never made it through the whole movie. Moses gets bearded and preachy, and I get bored. Dean that tells me that Moses lays waste to a 60's style beach orgy after descending Mount Sinai, which I must admit sounds rather exciting, but I prefer young, beardless, strapping Moses, before he figures out that he has to deliver the Israelites from Egypt, something about the parting of the Red Sea, etc., etc. One thing that never quite sits right with me is the fate of Nefretiri. She loves Moses. She even kills for him. And what does he do? Leaves her to Ramses and marries Sephora, who is hot, but too virtuous for my liking. Then, once he comes back with the beard and the mission from God, does he even try to help his former flame out? No. He just lets her only son die, and runs off into the desert with his hot wife and kids to talk to God and dispell orgies. Not right, dudes. Not right.


Speaking of hotness, have you all seen 300? Gorgeous. Stunning. Soo bloody. And the torsos. Whatever else might be said for or against this movie, its beautification and sexualization of the male body is nothing short of refreshing. Needless to say, I didn't fall asleep during any of the battle scenes. And can you believe that Rodrigo Santoro, Xerxes, also plays Paulo on Lost? Or maybe played Paulo. We haven't yet found out if he survives being buried alive. He looks about a bazillion times taller and more bronze as Xerxes.

Btw, fellow Lost viewers, are we in agreement that Season 3 sux? I mean, it's not like I won't still watch it avidly, but unless some giant rabbits get pulled out of really fancy hats, I will be forced to conclude that all good things really do come to an end. Here's hoping Harry Potter does not also disappoint.

One Week In Belgium

I spent a total of 24 hours on 6 different planes, 2 hours in a BMW, drank a beer with pink elephants on it and all I brought back for you is this stupid YouTube link. Oh well, its all the rage there anyway.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCp99wmw2YM

P.S. I apologize but this song is going to get stuck in your head but at least watch it once so you can root for the black sheep!

What Graduate Students Want

My assignment this week for Proseminar B, a series of sessions dedicated to helping our wayward souls navigate the treacherous seas of academia, is to write a description of "what I want in a supervisor." Never mind that I've already found one--seriously, where was this session three months ago when I stumbled awkwardly from one professor's office to another, praying to be adopted? We must send in our responses by tomorrow afternoon, and they will be printed up and distributed to all 35 participants later this week. Thankfully, there is no videotaping component to this exercise...that I know of. To get our "creative juices flowing" (eewww), our grad chair suggested that we structure this exercise as a personal ad. Having never written one, I am at something of a loss, but I've consulted the personals section of The Western Producer (the only newspaper in the house) and I'm ready to try. Here goes nothing.

5'6" intellectual bombshell (ha ha, just kidding) seeks handsomely published supervisor to share my life's work. Must love Puritans. I like long talks in the office and plenty of emotional hand-holding. I'm interested in surviving my dissertation and not living in a cardboard box under a bridge. If you are kind, compassionate, and willing to tolerate bouts of disillusionment and procrastination, you could be the one. Theory-heads and slave drivers need not apply.

Well, I think that says it all. Here's hoping I score a lasting relationship!

Sooner or Later

Thanks to Amie my first adventure packed issue of National Geographic arrived earlier this week, quelling my burning desire to conquer madness that is Mt. Everest. Despite the inherent risk to myself ("inherent risk" is my positive spin for "certain death") I have long held a hidden desire to climb this famous peak.

Recently, after reading "Into Thin Air", Amie no longer felt it prudent to indulge my desire to have adventures that may involve inherent risk. Instead she took it upon herself to bring the adventures to me, albeit in a much less fatal manner, and so long as I have the accounts of many grand adventures to keep me going, I will have no need to risk my own neck.

Thanks for the awesome christmas gift!

Casino Royale Delivers the Goods, and Teenage Boys Are More Annoying Than Fiction

I've managed to see two movies in the theatre this week, which is rather amazing (or perhaps foolhardy), given that I have two twenty page papers to research and write in the next 3 weeks and 30 essays and miterms to mark. Sigh, 'tis the season. Can anyone say "Christmas grad?" But back to more exciting things.

I have seen my share of Bond movies, mostly as part of a rather juvenile attempt to impress boys. I was pretty satisfied with the results, but there was one insurmountable drawback: I was never able to stay awake through a single Bond movie. Not one. Old or new, Sean or Pierce, as soon as a climactic fight scene starts, I shut down. They're just so...predictable. So, naturally, when Casino Royale opened a few weeks ago, I didn't rush to pre-order tickets; but when it started at the Fort Saskatchewan theatre this week, I thought, why not? I could use a night off and it isn't exactly entertainment central here. As it turns out, Casino Royale is a most pleasant surprise. Daniel Craig's Bond is a deliciously moody, complicated (well, as complicated as Bonds get), and egotistical contrast to Pierce Brosnan's slick (some might say slimy) portrayal. There's plenty of intense gazing and cheekbone shots, but not enough to make you nauseous. And this movie features one of the most unique portrayals of "man torture" that I have ever seen. I must admit, it took me a few minutes to figure out what was going on. But when I got it, I was all the more impressed with Craig's Bond's...shall we say...moxie. Furthermore, this movie has a plot, some reasonable dialogue, and a few smart jokes. Instead of overkill on novelty gadgets and blow-up scenes (though there are a few, and they are actually good), most of the tension is generated between the characters themselves. It's a nice change, and I'd like to see more of it. Best of all, I was wide-awake throughout the entire movie. I give it 4 drunken teenage girls out of 4.

I wish I could give the same rating to Stranger Than Fiction (although perhaps I would rank it on a different scale). Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about this movie. Will Ferrell's performance is beautiful, and Maggie Gyllenhaal is quite likeable. I wished I could drop out of school and bake warm and delicious cookies for a living. In fact, I was enjoying the movie immensely up until 5 minutes before the climactic scene with the wristwatch (I won't spoil the ending by going into further detail), when a gaggle of adolescent boys beside us started getting rowdy. Apparently wanting something more along the lines of Talladega Nights, they booed every hint of romance or sentiment that flitted across the screen. "Ya," one of them kept saying, "Do her! DO her!" I threw several pointed glares in their direction, but to no avail. I should have thrown popcorn or, better yet, pop bottles. But, alas, I am spineless. So I sat through the ending in a huff, and all the emotional resonance was completely lost on me. Damn kids. But I liked what I saw up until that point, so I will give it 3 freshly baked chocolate chip cookies out of 4, and assume that the more fortunate viewer will find it full of soft, gooey goodness.

Ladies and Gentlemen, My Thesis Has Landed

Looking for a little light bedtime reading? Obsessed with obtaining eschatological certainty? Feeling the urge to persecute some Catholics? Friends, your search ends here. I humbly present the original Salvation For Dummies: The Diamond of Deuotion--online! This handy, dandy, heavily annotated edition features Protestant diatribes against church and country, harsh invectives against Popish "dogges," and enough meditations on human depravity to obliterate any lingering traces of self-esteem (especially if you're a woman!). In short, everything you wanted to know about those 'hot' Elizabethan Puritans, but were afraid to ask. I can practically feel the hell fire licking at my toes...mmmm, toasty! As if enduring the pain of submitting an electronic copy of my thesis wasn't penance enough!