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I mean really. A flying car, despicable and dastardly villains, clockwork, and a candy factory. What more could one want?

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Nudity to protest war and injustice.

And of course, here there be dragons.

I miss having company whilst I study. By which I do not mean having the tv running all the time, or a four-year-old bouncing all over the room.
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So, La virgen de los sicarios (aka death-crumpets movie, and the English title is apparently Our Lady of the Assasins) was just as depressing and DISTURBING as expected, if not more so (the dream sequence was MUCH freakier in the movie, and I'm not sure if this is because it was freakier in the movie, or if I just missed how freaky it was in the book). It may well have been more so, particularly if you consider that the first of the teenage boy hitmen bore a strong resemblence to my brother, and certainly wasn't any older (in fact, he reminded me not of my brother now, but of my brother a few years ago when I was more familiar with his appearance, so he may well have been younger).
I did notice, though, that I didn't feel like the protagonist was being nearly as CREEPY-child-stalker as the guy in the other book/movie, even though this one was older and it was quite obviously a sexual relationship. (Possibly because the terms of the relationship were much clearer, somehow. But probably just because there were no children in this book. There were cynical old men in the bodies of boys who never lived to see twenty.)

And that paper that I've been putting off for the past four days and has been an annoying feature on my List of Things To Do? That paper?
I wrote it in half an hour this morning. I still need to proofread it and write a few sentences to conclude it, but that won't take more than 15 minutes. There is something to be said for writing before breakfast.

Speaking of writing, have a wordcount:
Zokutou word meterZokutou word meter
41,872 / 50,000
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Yes, she was dead, and had been sweet and vaguely pretty, and it was sad, but any 15 year old girl who doesn't want to find herself raped and/or dead in an alley should not be setting up multiple appointments with the creepy stalker dude twice her age who's lied to her repeatedly.
Yes, he was heartbroken that she was dead, and that was sad, but he was being a creepy stalker dude.

I remained unmoved.

I do not want to spend the next three classes discussing this book/movie.
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I just got my dad and brother to watch Mirrormask. I did warn them that it's seriously trippy, but I'm not sure that they took that to heart. At least, I don't think that Isaac fully comprehended my meaning. I believe that dad liked it - he certainly enjoyed the ending ("I've always wanted to join the circus." "That's good, because you'd make a terrible waiter." ". . . wait, what?") - but he tends to be more inscrutable in his reactions, and I'll probably learn what he thought over breakfast tomorrow morning.

It being Saturday, and dad not working today and Isaac not having to go to school, they've hogged the computer pretty much all day (well, I did have it for two hours this morning). So I decided that I'd get online when I went to feed Ghengis second dinner. Or a nightcap. Or bedtime snack. Something. And wow, dial-up is slow. On the plus side, my fingers aren't cold. And on lj I can read one window while things load in another.

It was my cousin's birthday yesterday. He is now 6. We stopped by for desert (ice cream cake) and I have decided that I need to get some of those balloons that look like elongated vermicious knids for a study break sometime next semester. What do you mean, you've never heard of vermicious knids? Anyway, you've never really enjoyed a party until you've stuck imitation vermicious knids to the ceiling with static electricity. My aunt took pictures. Perhaps I'll post them when she gets around to sending me copies. Mind you, that probably won't be until March.

We went out to dinner last night, which was enjoyable but uneventful - well, except for the couple two tables over breaking one of the wine glasses all over their meal.
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Last night was my brother's birthday party. He and several (that is, four, but five teenage boys are like an infuriated cat; actually number and perceived number may differ greatly) of his friends were going to see a movie and then do the pizza thing. I was not entirely sure I wanted to come (How scary is I am Legend? and How many boys of 15 or 16 years of age?), but dad didn't really know anything about he movie, and there didn't seem to be any provision for me to have supper if I didn't come along, so I came.
I think that if we'd gotten there earlier and I'd had a chance to a) talk to my mother b) realize that she wasn't planning on watching the movie with us and c) grill her on the results of her is-this-suitable-to-send-my-son-to research, I might have decided to join her in hanging out at the mall and knitting while the boys and dad watched the movie, but my NoIdon'twanttodothis reflex generally needs a bit more time to warm up and consider pros and cons and such than the 30 seconds that it got. So I watched the movie.

I enjoyed it? Maybe. I don't know. What I do know is that it was not a movie that I want to see on the 7:00 showing (7:00 is far too close to bedtime for comfort. Ace would have liked it; there were lots of explosions. I myself would have appreciated the explosions more if they had been a) less structually damaging to the house and b) more effective in keeping off the ravening hordes of sub-human-infected-darkseeker-things. (Because today is clearly a good day for demarcating everything in lists. As long as I don't imitate Mr. Botherit and go a) and then 2), I'm probably okay.) I also might have appreciated it more if there had been less intentional buildup of the dramatic tension (yes, I know that something Bad and Startling is going to happen; that's been very clear for the past seven minutes, and it's almost certainly going to involve screaming, loud noises, and gunshots; can we please get on with it? And maybe cut down a bit on the loud noises?)

You have to understand that I'm not a scary movie sort of person (or even an adventure-movie-with-orchestrated-terrifying-bits sort of person). I have a very good imagination. And sometimes it gets . . . excited. By a number of things, among which is movies with scary bits late at night. I wholeheartly approve of the prudence which reserved "Blink" for 1:00 on a sunny Sunday afternoon. (I hope you're following this, [livejournal.com profile] kadharonon. I expect that it's the closest that you and prudence will ever get to being the the same sentence uttered by me (or, y'know, the typing equivalent). Certainly in the forseeable future.) I just don't do the scary movie thing (and yes, I know, I am Legend is probably not a terribly scary movie by most people's standards, but we aren't talking about most people's standards; we're talking about my standards).

I got to sleep just fine - the first time. And then I woke up. Not from a nightmare, mind you. (I don't do nightmares, either; it's been a really long time since I had any.) I was just awake. And it was cold outside my little nest of blankets on the floor. And my imagination said, "Oh, look! You're Awake! And look, it's Dark! And Cold! Let's think about Things. Specifically, let's think about that movie you so injudiciously watched close to bedtime! Let's think of all the scariest bits of it, and lets imagine how they could have been scarier! And even though you know that it was just a movie, you're still close enough to being asleep that you're Not Going To Be Able to convince us to think about anything else! Nice try thinking about the Greater Evil performing blood sarcrifice of all the main characters dream you had the other week, even if it did have Plot, but that dream didn't scare you, particularly since the Greater Evil was careless enough to not kill them entirely and then leave them alone, forgetting that one of them was a Really Powerful Healer so everything turned out OK! So we're not going to think about that dream. We're going to think about the scary bits of the movie! And then make them scarier, remember?!"
We've established the activeness of my imagination, haven't we? Good.
It's difficult at any point to leave the coziness of my blankets and move the nine whole feet to the light switch, and my hyperactive gerbil of an imagination didn't help any. But I did manage, eventually, and fed my imagination book until my eyes wouldn't focus any more. And then it was sated enough to not think about things until I fell asleep again. But I did not get enough sleep last night. And my fingers are cold. Again. Still.

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