Sore!

I have just spent the majority of this week being sore.

I think I slept wrong on Tuesday--I couldn't move my head much to look over my right shoulder. And then on Wednesday, it got worse--a different sort of sore kept my left shoulder pretty stationary.

Between that and the cold snowy blustery yech that it is outside--I didn't do much last night. I played Farmville (which I should quit. But I've been saying that for the past few months), and I finally wrote a blog post again, and that's about it. That's about all I could fit in--though I had time.

Oh, and I almost fell asleep on my couch. It was pretty close. Instead, I went to bed early!! Shocking!! Well, like 11-ish.

Somehow or other, though, I've been just feeling lazy and have had no inspiration. I don't know if it's because I'm sore, or because it's deeply January and the weather played a trick on me, or if it's because I've been so busy with the rest of my life--teaching at the YMCA, my regular job, my writing of articles (which I've gotten somewhat lax with)--that I don't want to do anything else, or what, exactly--but I do feel lazy. Which makes me unhappy. I pull up my short stories and think, "I'm going to revise this!" But instead, I'm having my own personal Psych marathon (I love that show. I love James Roday. Oh, my.), and I'm wasting time as possible, and I'm not really working on what I want to...

I just have to trust that I'll get myself back in the game, I guess. And in the meantime, I'll just take the little things in, things that may end up inspiring me later.

Oh, and maybe I'll reread the lovely letter I got from a dear, longtime friend, today--actual mail. Oh, how I love mail!

By the silvery light of the moon...

First, an apology; I haven't been able to post anything for a while, since I've been busy busy. Sorry! Now, a question.

Do you love the moon as much as I do?

When I was little, I was obsessed with the night sky. I still am particularly fond of it--the way it just presses on forever, presses down on you, yet stays so open. The way the stars form shapes that have so many stories in so many traditions. It seems so secretive and delicious, and I've always felt looking at it, being out under it--it's just prime for getting ideas.

I made up a poem about the moon, one which I don't recall right now and could probably only find if I dug for it. So mysterious and so far away, there's so much to think about it. Luna. Moon.

OK, so today at work, this article was sent out to us (because, being in an archives/museum, we have gotten a lot of questions about moon stones, lately). It's about moon stones, and how so many states and countries were given some...yet, now, many of those stones are missing.

It's pretty darn interesting. And sort of sad, too. Something so historical that was so lost to us? Though now, as always happens, we are interested in where the history has gone. Better late than never, right?

Sherlock Holmes, the movie

I was going to write a post about dreams last Friday, which is sadly when I last updated my blog or practically even came up here. Because dreams are so interesting, and mine are so chaotic--like an action movie.

But you know what? I'm not actually going to write about dreams today. I'll save that for another day, preferably a day when I can remember all the twists and nuances of my dreams the previous night. Then I'll share some of the crazy dreams I've had in the past.

So, let's segue into an action movie: Sherlock Holmes.

I saw this movie last night, which, considering how skittish I can be, probably wasn't the best idea. Seeing it at night, that is. Let's just say that I have a strong imagination when it gets dark. That when I finished reading Coraline at home, in bed, around the stroke of 1 or 2 in the morning, I was too scared to do anything other than shiver under my blankets and hope that the scary button-eyed monster wouldn't try to get me to climb down any rabbit holes.

Maybe this is partly why my dreams are so vivid?

In any case, Sherlock Holmes wasn't really scary--for most people. For most of the movie. But the voo-doo and black magic that it showcased, though of course perfunctorily and logically disbanded by Holmes, played very well (in the vein of this movie) by Robert Downey Jr., spooked me. Even when I knew it had to be logical. Because I couldn't explain away all of the logic!

Plus, there was quite a bit of getting-cut-open-ness that I wasn't so keen on watching.

But overall, I have to say that this was a pretty good movie. The acting was--really well done. Jude Law was attractive, yes, but even more so believable! I believed in his character, and if he wasn't Watson, I didn't care--he was Holmes' companion, the only man to keep him as he should be. The filming of the movie itself was interesting--the flashbacks, the way Holmes thought (if you don't know what I'm talking about, you should see the movie. I don't want to spill all the beans!), the coloring, the deductive reasoning at play, keeping the audience engaged--very interesting, very cool. In my humble opinion. There was humor, clever word play, creative characters, and an engaging plot.

More than a few explosions, too.

However, if you like Sherlock Holmes books--love them--live by them--I don't think you'll like this movie.

In fact, if you don't like action movies, if you hate them and cringe when you see a commercial for them, you might want to think two or three or maybe even four times, before you decide to go and see it.

But if you want a twist on tradition--this may be the film for you.

I'll tell you that even with all the flinching, I found many points of interest and laughed a few times throughout. Oh, yeah--and I also fell a bit for Holmes.

And Watson. Much better than Watson from the book.

Of course, I was never Arthur Conan Doyle's biggest fan, so what do I know?

DOLL HOUSE! No spoilers, but lots of exclamations.

I don't know if anyone out there is in to Doll House. Well, yes, I know my pal Amalia T. is, but otherwise, I don't know. Because, apparently, this show has been cancelled? And it is just like Pushing Daisies all over again. Or, for those of you who are so inclined, that other show by Joss Whedon--Firefly. Don't know what I'm talking about? Did you see Serenity? Well, that's the TV show that launched the movie.

So.

OK. First of all, when I was finally introduced to Firefly/Serenity, a few years later, I have to admit that I liked it. It could be because of the stellar cast (including Nathan Fillion. He seems to sparkle in everything he's in. And no, I don't mean like Edward Cullen. Sorry Twilight fans.), it could be because of the story line, it could be because of anything. But man--Joss Whedon knows how to tell a story.

Last year, I gave this show a chance. I had just lost Pushing Daisies, a wonderful show that had been cancelled, and I now knew who this Joss Whedon character was--yeah, I'm not so good on directors and such--so I gave it a chance.

And I fell in love. Seriously. I mean, all you have to do is see Victor or Paul Ballard (below, in order)

And, that's it. But the story! The intricacies! Sure, it started off slow--but it was so phenomenal!

Maybe I'm just showing my inner geek?

But seriously, it's like--spy and high tech and romance and all of this, wrapped up into one. Oh, I almost forgot one of my very very favorite characters (aside from Victor)--Topher!

OK. So, enough of that.

But the story! The story!

And now it's being cancelled. And I thought tonight's episode was the last. But I sincerely hope not. Because I may just FREAK OUT if it is. Because of everything that happened.

OK. So not what I planned to write about...but AWESOME EPISODE. I was hysterical when it ended. Simply hysterical. I think I still am. Eep!

*Photo images not mine and not intended as a copyright infringement.

Old maids and all that

Did you know that in my neck of the woods, the average marriageable age of women is around 21 or 22? And probably a year or two older, for guys. But still.

OK, I don't have any hard and fast stats on the subject. I'm just going off my friends and their engagements--what I see in the papers--and who I see standing outside the occasional churches, posing for pictures.

I understand this isn't the case with everyone, or everywhere. But let me tell you--it's quite an odd feeling, knowing that people my age are married, some expecting. Makes me feel--well--old maiden-ish.

Roman women married between 14 and 16, usually, back in the day. I'm totally past my prime, on that account. (Thank Heavens!)

So...a link to a story about a way one guy sought someone out for marriage in the wilds of ND. What verve!