inbetween

Once upon a time, some cool brothers had a really cool idea for a cool movie. The cool brothers took their cool idea and created a cool cinematic experience. They used special effects and violence only to help the plot along, rather than base the movie on the special effects as is typical in Hollywood. Their film told an interesting story and left us with some not-so-creative ideas to think about. It was a high quality creation with good writing and decent acting. The Matrix was an interesting movie.

It made buckets and buckets of money.

Not being happy with their new found riches, fame, and glory, the cool brothers decided that they needed to turn their movie into a trilogy. What a stupid mistake that was.

Matrix: Reloaded is a dull, uninteresting movie with more action and special effects than plot or character development. Although I had fun paying my $15 for over priced popcorn, three hours of gratuitious violence, bad music and just plain stupid dialog, I would rather have spent that money on four drinks at a bar. The movie seems to have been built around the special effects this time. The plot is complicated, but clunky and really only serves as an excuse for more violence. The writing for this movie makes the characters seem dumber than before, and the way Keanu Reeves acts really drives the point home.

It was a fun movie to watch, but there was no real content. The producers and directors Hollywood-ized a really interesting movie and turned it into a trilogy that really doesn't need to exist.

Update: I've been told that all three scripts were written at the same time, and that this movie is really just suffering from middle-child syndrom. Makes sense, but I wish they had put more effort into making it as good as the first one, and had a better sound track.

On Friday night I went to the Pride Prom. It's a really fun, big gay party. I met some interesting people, and saw some friends I haven't seen in a long time. Very cool.

Then the kids started hitting on me.

I don't know why I find it so uncomfortable. It is flattering, and I do enjoy the attention. There are even times when I want to return the flirting. I think that is the part that bothers me most. I don't like being attracted to someone ten years younger than me. It just seems wrong, but I can't define why. Well, other that the legal reasons, anyway. I really wish it wasn't such a problem in our society, but I also know for a fact that if the artificial barriers between different ages were torn down, then some people in our society would take advantage of that age difference in terrible ways.

I need to start looking for someone older than me.

So I went to a birthday party on Saturday. I don't think I actually spoke to the host. I drank more than I should have, but not to the point of utter stupidity. The balance there is always tenuious. I also met some nice people and got to spend some time with friends I haven't seen in a while. And met some really interesting people. People I actually want to get to know better.

And I watched the sun rise over the harbour. That's always magical. Almost every time I do that, something in my life changes. I wonder what it will be this time. Last time, my depression ended and I met Jeffrey a few days later.

Ah well, something interesting will happen.

nb: This category needs to be renamed to "more than eight years, and still counting" but that won't fit for some silly reason that has to do with how the category names are stored.

I have a midterm tomorrow, so rather than study, I'm going to think about my funeral. Really.

I've had a very silly life at times, and I'll be damned if I let my death stop me from being silly. I want a clown at my funeral, with a clown nose, a big red hat and a bubble pipe. He'll be doing balloon animals and other fun stuff like that.

I will be creamated (not like asparagus soup, rather like turned into ashes) and the ashes (not the asparagus soup, duh!) will be stuffed into a soup can (possibly, but not necessarily asparagus soup) and then the soup can will be shot out of a cannon like they do in the Circus. For once in my life (or death, I suppose) I want to be a superhero flying over the crowd.

I want a tombstone somewhere. It should read, "...and something interesting will happen." The name on the tombstone will be "Michael The Great and Powerful - Accept no substitutions" or something equally silly.

It should be disrespectful in as many ways as possible, so long as nobody starts humping. I probably won't be getting any at my funeral, nobody else will either.

Maybe later, I'll start writing my eulogy, or the obituary. That could really be fun.

Someone has a crush on me! Tee hee! It's so cute. I'm not very interested, but it's so cute! I think I might be gushing.

Nope. Just happy.

He sits next to me in class and finds reasons to talk to me. He smiles at me a lot too. Seems like a nice guy, but I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now. Maybe I should talk to him and let him know.

Maybe I'll just keep playing dumb. I'm good at that.

ODDITY-Girl-Dog-Marriage Nine-year-old Indian girl married to stray dog to break 'evil spell' 01:53 PM EDT Jun 19 NEW DELHI (AP) - A nine-year-old girl was married to a stray dog in a ceremony attended by more than 100 guests in a village in India's eastern state of Bengal as part of a ritual intended to ward off a bad omen, newspapers reported Thursday. The girl, Karnamoni Handsa, had to be married quickly to break an evil spell, according to the beliefs of her Santhal tribe in the remote village of Khanyan, the Hindustan Times said. Karnamoni's tooth had grown on her upper gum, which Santhals consider a bad omen. The girl's father, Baburam Handsa, a poor sharecropper, could not afford the expenses of marrying his daughter to a boy, so he saved money by making a street dog the groom on June 11, the paper reported. Other news media also reported on the ritual, which does not interfere with the girl's life. She suffers no stigma and is free to marry later. She doesn't even need to divorce the dog. © The Canadian Press, 2003

Oh look. It's the weekend again. Where did my week go? Really. I think it just slipped away. Damn, I hate when that happens.

And now, brought to you by finger-o's, it's "Week in Review"

Well... lets see... I went to almost all my classes. You have to admit that ten o'clock in the moring is rather early to be thinking about math. And there was a Collective Meeting. It lasted an hour. I really don't like them at all right now. Now it's Saturday. I'm going to sit on the patio, eat some strawberries and smell the sweet peas, pansies, and roses I've been growing.

Then it's back to the paper writing and theorem proving.

CBC News: Baghdad ambushes kill U.S. soldier, civilians

Too bad a collection of buildings, roads and traffic lights can't really attack, eh? But then I suppose the reporter was really only going for Sensationalism, not intelligent writing.

Astronomists call for dark skies

When did Astronomists become a word? Oh wait, three online dictionaries tell me that is isn't a word. I'm glad, I don't want to take Astronomisty 200 at the university in the fall.

I think my Grandmother has a cheese fetish.

Really.

Every time she goes to the grocery store across the street from my house, she buys me cheese. I now have cheese in my freezer, and three big blocks of cheese in my refridgerator. I've asked her to stop. She says she forgets that we don't need cheese when she does her shopping, but still buys it. I can just imagine her walking down the dairy product isle giggling away to herself as she pushes her cart full of cheap cheese. "Cheese! I'm going to buy cheese!"

And that's the real kicker, isn't it. It's cheapo-bleapo crap-cheese. It's the cheddar that's a step up from individually wrapped kraft cheezy-goo and kraft "how can we destroy your cheese"-wiz. I've always wondered what part of cheese-wiz was the "wiz" and what was the cheese.

I might not be so perplexed if she would buy a nice edam, of a brie, or even a good stinky stilton. Alas no, only cheap no-name cheddar is all she will buy. There's only so much you can do with it. Seven days of cheese and wine, and my liver gets angry at granny too.

She doesn't even eat cheese. She doesn't have any at her house. I don't think that she really enjoys cheese. Maybe it's just a fetish for cheese-purchasing.