"Shutter Island"

quote of the day:

"If I sank my teeth into your eyeball, would you be able to stop me before I blinded you?"

Martin Scorsese, may I please send you a puppy or some sunflowers or something? Because your mind is clearly getting much too dark. And it scares me.

Also, your soundtrack is a little heavy handed. The final scene would have been much more effective if it was silent.

What I'm about to complain about well probably seem trivial to you. But I don't care. I. Am. Livid. Tonight I got home after waliking around in the rain and after putting on some clean warm clothes, I thought, "now I'll watch a movie and whiten my teeth and it will be awesome." Exactly those words. To myself. In my head. So I go, pull out my whitening trays, and go to look for the rest of my tooth whitening system that I got from my dentist that cost several hundred dollars. Where was it? NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. Not after I pulled everything out of the fridge (where it had been stored). And every other cabinet (even if I had found it in one of them it would have been useless to me. Because it needs to be refrigerated. Obviously). And this means that the last person who cleaned out the fridge threw it away. Now, a tooth whitening system is not that important. I am the first and firmest person to admit that. But the cost IS important. Do I have that much money to throw down on a replacement? NO. OF COURSE I DON'T. The other, and the main reason this upsets me so much is that it is indicative of a blatant disrespect for anything that does not belong to YOU. If it isn't yours, don't touch it. That was simple. Wasn't it? If you have to touch it, put it back exactly where you found. Or in the general vicinity. Or at least on the same floor, I'm not really that picky. Don't leave other people's things laying around on the floor. SHOW RESPECT. I could not be more angry right now. I basically just lost control in front of Melanie about this because she was sitting downstairs while I was looking and witnessed my anger.

Oh hey [un-named roomate], sorry I took your insulin out of the fridge and stepped on it on accident because it was sitting on the floor. Because that's where I left it. Because it's not mine, so what do I really care what happens to it? So you're out now. Oh what, that was all you had? Oh sorry, you shouldn't have left it sitting in the fridge for so long.

Bored.

So I just started reading Brisingr, the third installment in Cristopher Paolini's cracked out "Inheritance Trilogy."

Yes, I have a penchant for silly fantasy books, and a weird compulsive aspect to my personality that demands that I finish every book I begin, no matter how terrible. In this case, that also extends to subsequent books in a series.

Anyways, my first complaint is that the book is much to large. I don't need 748 pages of Tolkien larceny. Mostly because it doesn't fit very well in my bag. It fits so poorly, in fact, that when I'm carrying it on my shoulder, the book stabs my shoulder blade. and no alternate arrangement of purse contents alleviates the pain.

Secondly, "grimstnzborith" is not a word, nor is it feasible as a word in any made up language. Ever. You are not Tolkien (who is still recognized as the pre-eminent linguist and philologist of his day) so stop trying to be.

And my last complaint- I've only made it through the first 5 pages so far...but there's something horribly Chronicles of Riddick about the opening pages (i.e. people who mutilate themselves as an act of worship...to some crazy, dark being). It's creepy. And still not even written well at all. I think one of the things that has kept me reading this series was the hope that as he aged, Paolini's writing would as well- become more mature, and much more subtle. Alas, it has not happened. I still feel as though I'm reading a fanfic by some 15 year old obsessed with Robert Jordan, Raymond E. Feist, and Tad Williams. And Tolkien. Ostensibly.