Bathtub Stories

I was scrubbing my tub (something I do less frequently than I probably should) when I noticed a peculiarity in its shape. While I believe, and please correct me if I'm wrong, that most bathtubs are rectangular, perhaps oval if you're fancy, my bathtub is shaped like a nineteenth century coffin.

Surely you can see the resemblance and understand why I found this slightly unnerving. Why would anyone shape a tub like a coffin? Have the architects never seen Psycho? Do they not know that I already feel a sense of paranoia in the shower and that making such a distasteful visual reference only serves to increase that paranoia?

Seeking to justify the design, I lay down in the tub to see whether the wider width near the top was in any way helpful to the bathing process. As the tub is only 4 feet long, I found that it is not. I am forced to conclude that the makers of my bathtub have a sick sense of humor and want me to feel as though I'm being invited to sleep with the fishes (or, perhaps more fittingly, with the rubber duckies) on a regular basis.

True Grit

Westerns as a genre have been declared dead more than once, but this film proves otherwise. A remake of John Wayne's 1969 pic of the same name, True Grit follows a young girl as she seeks to avenge her father's death, enlisting a U.S. marshall to help her and getting a Texas Ranger thrown in for free. Jeff Bridges and Matt Damon give superb performances in their respective roles as does Hailee Steinfeld.

This movie was visually stunning. The narrative was poignant and funny and terrifying and I loved it. But, as with most Cohen brothers films, the ending left me wanting. That being said, I would definitely rank it in my top 5, maybe even my top 3, of the year. A must-see.

The Model Millionaire

The Model Millionaire: Stories by Oscar Wilde

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I like Oscar Wilde quite a lot, but this collection gave me little of what I expect from him. These stories are mostly fables and morality tales with similar themes revolving around vanity and friendship. I have more fun reading Grimm's Fairy Tales. Though my love for Oscar Wilde is unabated, I will stick to his plays from now on.

The added story at the end of this book, Tiger Tiger by Simon Van Booy, was far more engaging than anything else in the book. In fact, I think I will read his book next.



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In This Way I was Saved

In This Way I Was Saved: A Novel by Brian DeLeeuw

My rating: 2 of 5 stars


I felt like this novel had a lot of potential. It's got a great cover for one thing, and the first sentence is a serious hook. Unfortunately, I was disappointed with the rest of the book.


DeLeeuw, a first-time novelist, does a lot of things well. He has a great voice, and the pacing is nice. But there are some issues early on. The story is narrated by Daniel, a character whose nature and origins are sketchy throughout the book. What we do know is that he can only be seen by Luke. As Daniel follows Luke through his childhood, the narration feels unbalanced. Though Daniel is seemingly ageless, Luke is solidly six years old at the beginning of the book, but he doesn't quite feel it--and I think the issue is more with the narration than with the "old soul" of the character.

There are some really touching and powerful scenes in this book (the moment when Daniel is forced to squeeze himself into a space in the trunk; Luke repeatedly confronted by his mentally unstable mother), but ultimately, I didn't feel like there was much heart to the book. Perhaps that's just the nature of narrating from a non-human perspective--it isn't really relatable. It was an interesting read, and, though Deleeuw does a lot of foreshadowing, it still kept my attention to the end, but I really wish the story had been stronger.



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Moon

It's been far too long since I've written anything that wasn't due for a class. It's kind of tragic.

Anyway, after a couple weeks of constant social engagement, I decided to pass up plans tonight and stay in by myself. It was a much needed break. I planned on finishing Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (I'm re-reading the series...in preparation for the seventh film or something). However, I did not. Instead I flicked on the streaming Netflix and watched the next movie in our queue, which happened to be Moon, with Sam Rockwell. It was a fateful decision.

The film is kind of a re-imagining of 2001: A Space Odyssey, mixed with a bit of Truman Showism (I hope I didn't ruin anything for anyone there.), and it left me feeling a bit existential. I used to say that I defined myself by my relationships with those around me, and I meant it as a kind of self-effacingly sad comment about my lack of self-justification. Watching this movie, though made me wonder if I wasn't on to something. So, here's some original thought for anyone who happens to stumble across it:

Our lives on earth are in fact defined by our interactions with others. A life spent in study or entertainment, if it doesn't include meaningful relationships or some kind of service to humanity, is, as far as I can see, completely meaningless. That's a terrifying thought, and a very good reason for me to stop watching existential movies on my own.

Other thoughts: Sam Rockwell is fantastic; also, I wonder how much I'd like myself if there were two of me.

Spring Breaking and Nostalgia

It is now 1:30 on a Monday afternoon. I'm still in my pjs. Here's a list of the day's activities so far:

Ate breakfast: leftover rolls with jam. Mmmm, nutritious
Worked on my iTunes library...for quite awhile (thanks for the music, Sarah)
Facebooked
Removed my chipped nail polish

Now I'm thinking it's about time for lunch. I did manage, in the course of my iTunes/Facebook activities, to reconnect with a friend I haven't seen since I was 11--when I moved from a tiny town in Southern Utah back to the paradise of Southern California. Now, living in New York City (somewhat less temperate, and far more inhabited than either of the above locales), I don't even know how to approach talking to people I knew in the 5th grade. I have little recollection of what I was like then, but I seem to remember that being my rebellious stage. I don't know that I can really back that up except to say that I swore more at that age than I would like to admit to now, and I routinely rode my bike out past the city limits with a couple of other girls to visit a farm we had no business visiting. I read Stephen King, watched as many R-rated horror movies as I could get my hands on (though, in retrospect, many of the movies I thought were rated R were actually PG-13), and watched MTV at the house of the aforementioned friend. Yeah...I was a pretty bad kid. Luckily my mom never found out.

At the only elementary school in town, with only two classes for each grade, there was some definite social stratification going on, and not finding myself quite at the top, I rooted myself safely in the middle. I can only assume that that's where this friend of mine lived and stayed long after I made my departure. She was pretty, but edgy. I loved her white-blonde hair, and the only inside joke of ours that I can remember now was about trading mine for hers. In my nostalgia, I think of her as the pre-teen version of Claire Danes from My So Called Life. Now, even though I can't remember who was above or below us on that social ladder, it still frames my perceptions of myself and my friends at the time. I recognize that I am a different person, but in my mind, she is just a taller version of her 11-year-old self. Facebook stepped in this morning to tell me that she also has a four-year-old son, but other than that, she must be exactly the same.

American Misogynism

Aggressive women scare me/make me uncomfortable/just rub me the wrong way. Men not so much. Why is that? My fear of middle aged women in particular has become something of an inside joke (though now I suppose it's kind of out in the open) among my friend, but it really bothers me once in a while, and I can't help but wonder where it comes from.

In college, I felt like all of my favorite professors were men, but looking back, I'm not so sure that's right. I had a female teacher for Postmodern American lit who I quite liked, actually. She's probably one of the biggest reasons I decided to go on to graduate school. I had a female humanities teacher who I didn't mind much. All of my Spanish teachers were female and I found them all unequivocally likable. I really only had one female teacher who I disliked, and I attributed my disliking her to her being female and trying somehow to make up for something that didn't need making up for. I felt like she was overbearing and horrible, in addition to being incredibly disorganized (which is by far my least favorite trait in a teacher), mostly because she felt like she had to be as difficult as the male teachers--prove that her gender had no effect on her teaching style, that the nurturing mother in her would not affect her ability to grade students justly, and so she overcorrected by setting impossibly high expectations, overworking her students, and grading on the harsh side.

In retrospect, those things may have had nothing at all to do with her gender. I recognize that, logically, but I can't really feel it. Are women simply harsher judges of other women than they are on men. Is it just me? Or does American society depict women as overbearing and needy, creating frustration with my own gender when someone actually fits into that mold. What are our expectations of men in modern society? Looking at pop culture, especially sitcoms, would indicate that we expect them to be bumbling buffoons, slow to take things seriously and in serious need of a female influence to balance them out (e.g. Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens, King of the Hill, The Simpsons, Friends). As a result (?) I don't expect much at all from men beyond a good sense of humor, which is perhaps why I find them less intimidating than women.

Is society's depiction of gender unfair? or is it really a reflection of gender norms? Is my analysis accurate? or am I really just projecting my own prejudices onto the culture? Food for thought.