Elizaboothy

Just Popping in to Brag…

Dudes, I saw a press screening of the Hunger Games last week. I know a lot of people have issues with the casting, but the movie is AWESOME!

Is this thing on?

Hey friends. Sorry for the extended absence. I moved and my man got laid off, so I’ve been trying to write words for money, which leaves me too exhausted and over-lap-topped to tumblr (or, even more sadly, Persephone) at the end of the day. It’s a drag. What’s been up in these parts?

First attempt at dying away my gray hair myself. Husband got laid off a couple of weeks ago (hence my silence in these parts) and we’re trying to save $$$. So far I’ve succeeded in dying parts of my ears and face a deep shit brown.

Rick Perry looks like a cartoon version of what people in other countries think a stereotypical American looks like.

Watched: Blue Valentine (2010)

Okay, I’m going to get something out of the way first: I know a lot of you ladies (and men) out there get all hot and bothered thinking about Ryan Gosling. I don’t get it. Obviously I don’t think he’s hideous or creepy or anything, and I do get all giddy over The Notebook, but he doesn’t make me feel all breathless and tingly. I think he’s a fine actor, but not overwhelmingly dreamy. I don’t know if that affected my enjoyment of this movie or not, but it may have, so I thought I’d put it on the table.

Back to Blue Valentine: Also, I don’t really get it. I know a lot of people really felt that this movie hit hard, but I was left feeling cold. I usually don’t have a problem with reflections of mundane life in the cinema — in fact I kind of like it. Blue Valentine doesn’t completely mirror my own life — I’m pretty sure my marriage isn’t on the rocks — but nothing about the relationship between Gosling and Michelle Williams seems that special. Including the scenes that depict their early courtship, which I think is the major problem in this movie.

Blue Valentine would have been so much stronger if the romance factor in the earlier scenes had been steamier and more intense. But you never get the feeling that these two had intense love for each other in the first place, which makes their break-up less painful to the viewer. So as the couple begins to fall apart, there’s not really that much to mourn.

One other thing: if their kid is five or six, how is it that Gosling ages so much during the time that passes. In less than a decade he goes from a cute young carefree dude in a leather jacket to an almost-bald guy with a penchant for indoor-outdoor sunglasses. The transformation doesn’t seem plausible. Nit-picky, sure, but for a film that seemed so hell-bent on presenting reality, a bit of a flaw.

Watched: Burlesque (2010)

Yeah, I actually watched this. The whole sparkly, glittery, Aguilera-filled thing. And you know what? It wasn’t the total disaster that I expected.

Here’s what I didn’t like about Burlesque: it was so utterly predictable and cookie-cutter Hollywood. I disliked it in the same way that I dislike action movies and mainstream biopics: nothing feels natural or real and you know what’s going to happen before it actually does. The story is so painfully by-the-book that I could barely stand it, but not in a way that is any worse than most unimaginative (and sometimes even Oscar nominated) Hollywood films.

Here’s what I did like: Christina Aguilera is not a terrible actress. While her character is utterly cliche, she’s pretty genuine and believable. Also Kristen Bell is pretty fabulous. And there are lots of pretty costumes and dancing. And really, that’s all I expected, so I’m considering that a win.

Why am I watching the Tea Party debate? I don’t want to get sucked into this drama so far before the election. It makes me lose sleep. I’ve been yelling at the TV for the last hour. While I’m looking forward to Obama tearing one of these fools a new one once the general campaign is underway, I can’t stomach the lies and the overuse of the term “Obamacare” (it’s just called health care, you assholes).

I should mention that I’m not even an American. I need to turn this off and switch to Miss Universe or Hoarders.

9/11

I’m not going to say anything political today, mostly because it’s not my place because I’m not even American.

Okay, so on September 11, 2001 I was sitting in the little office space in the back of my kitchen. We were renting the bottom floor of a house in Toronto’s Annex area and in typical Italian home style, the kitchen was by far the largest room in the apartment. We had just moved in 11 days previously after a crazy road trip from Calgary to Toronto. We moved with nothing but the money we got from our wedding the month before: no jobs, no plan and only a few acquaintances in the city.

I was sitting at the computer working on a resume that I planned to deliver to a magazine later that day. It was hot, so the windows were open and I could hear Peter Mansbridge’s voice coming from the house next door. I remember thinking “Why is Mansbridge on at 9 a.m in the morning?” because he’s the lead anchor for the CBC and usually only does the nightly news. I didn’t think any further on it though, and went about my resume prep.

The phone rang. It was my friend Kim, who had also recently moved to Toronto. “Are you watching TV?” she asked. No. She could barely get the words out. “Maybe you should.” And with that she hung up.

I turned on the TV. The planes had hit and I think one of the towers had fallen. My husband was in the shower, which was in our basement (it was a strange apartment) and I ran down the half flight of stairs and started banging on the door.

“Two planes have crashed into the World Trade Center. The building has fallen to the ground.”

“What?”

I repeated myself.

“You’re wrong, Elizabeth. Those buildings are too strong to fall. You’re mistaken. You’ve got to be mistaken.”

Obviously, I wasn’t mistaken. I sat on the stairs and started crying. We went back upstairs and huddled around the CBC. It felt like the world was ending.

I didn’t know anyone who died that day, but my parents knew someone on the plane that went into the Pentagon. I still don’t think I’ve totally processed all of it. 10 years later, even thinking about it makes me feel sick. While I’m glad we’re marking this day by remembering, thinking about it still feels me with so much emotion that I can’t even begin to unpackage it and sort it out.