April 2011 In Films, Books and Music

Technically there is still half an hour of April left, so I think this is valid, but I'm gonna have to type bloody fast.

Films
I now have a proper film blog, in which I write much lengthier reviews of films that I've watched as soon as I've watched them, but these are a couple that didn't make it on to that blog for tiredness reasons.
Killing Bono - Ben Barnes (Prince Caspian) and Robert Sheehan (Misfits' Nathan) playing Irish brothers. The premise was promising, long before I knew the plot. And I did enjoy it enough to see it twice at the cinema, but it wasn't quite as funny as I'd hoped. To be honest the best parts of it were Barnes's very convincing Irish accent, and Sheehan's flawless comic timing.
As Good As It Gets - I'm going to do a proper review of this on my film blog at some point, because it was one of the absolute best films I've seen in bloody ages. Witty, clever, original and genuinely romantic without being cliche-loaded and cheesy. An example of what movies should be.
Elizabeth - Even though I KNEW the story of Elizabeth I, therefore I KNEW what was going to happen and I KNEW that true stories very rarely end happily, I still found this ultimately depressing. Also, as a history student, there were a few teeth-clenching historical inaccuracies, but why let fact get in the way of a good story?

Music
Another rubbishy month music-wise, but my Amazon ban is now officially over, so let's hope things perk up for the spring...
Honestly, the only new music I've been listening to this month is a mixtape my friend Roz made me, which is basically all the songs she knows I like that I don't already own. She did a damn fine job, actually, with my personal favourites being: 'Friday I'm In Love' - The Cure, 'Just For Tonight' - One Night Only, 'Broken Strings' - James Morrison ft Nelly Furtado, 'Dream Catch Me' - Newton Faulkner and 'Californication' - Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

Books
I know I said I'd be listing more books as of April. I lied. In my defence, it started off well, but once I actually got into my 'Classics Kick', it slowed down for unprecedented reasons...
The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson - I was expecting to like this, but I was still shocked about how much I did. It's been ages since I've read a genuinely thrilling thriller, and this was brilliant, with a genuinely original heroine, an intriguing storyline and an edge-of-your-seat writing style. One thing I would complain about, though, is all the completely unnecessary detail the reader is given; we don't need to know which way Blomkvist walked into town, or which shops he went into and what he bought and what quanitities he purchased in. 'Blomkvist went shopping' would have sufficed.
The Catcher In The Rye, by J.D. Salinger - despite this being about a fifth of the size of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, it has so far taken me three times as long to read it. I know you shouldn't, but I was kind of expecting to be blown away by this book, because it's an inspiration for many of my favourite authors and people talk about it all the time. Thus I was very disappointed to find it - frankly - REALLY boring. Nothing actually happens. A whiny teenage boy wanders around New York, defying common sense. The end.

So there we go, a rushed, short, probably typo-ridden blog post that I'll almost certainly change completely when I read it back with an awake brain. But still; eleven minutes left to go. If I could high five myself right now, I totally would.

Sometimes I Wish

Sometimes I wish I had something that was mine
That I didn't have to share with others all the time
I don't mean possessions, or anything physical
More like people and moments and things metaphysical

Sometimes I wish I had somewhere to go
A place just for me, for my thoughts to grow
Somewhere with no interruptions or noises
To escape to, to think, to make hard choices

Sometimes I wish I could escape from people
And I wonder if it would be more peaceful
I wouldn't want to stay away long
Just enough to feel, on return, I belonged

Sometimes I wish I had a fast forward button
To skip a day, or five, or a dozen
Those times when you feel like a nothing, a dot
A nameless being, filling a slot

Sometimes I wish I was a better person
Who whined less about having so light a burden
Someone who didn't worry about looking fat
Or being ignored, left out and laughed at

Sometimes I wish I didn't feel this way
That being happy and cheerful was the way I could stay
But life just isn't that simple, is it?
Everyone, sometimes, feels like a misfit

Sometimes I wish it wasn't so cliche
To write a poem in shades of grey
An ode to an ego that's so second-hand
Written for people who won't understand

VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION!!!

Okay, so I've started this separate blog where I review/rant about/post general stuff about films, because I'm a geek and we do crap like that.

Here's the link: http://filmnerdsftw.blogspot.com/

Anticlimax? My bad... :P

(Also, think this is the shortest blog I have EVER posted...three cheers for my self-restraint. Or, you know, not. Whatever. Up to you. *cough*)

Two Challenges

I don't think I've ever given up anything for Lent before. I could make up some crappy moral excuse like 'I disagree with the commercialisation of religion', but the simple answer is that my willpower is, to put it mildly, limited. Every diet I've ever been on (and I'm pretty sure we're in the hundreds) has ended with a I've-had-a-bad-day-so-logically-these-calories-don't-count Bingefest. Aside from that, I never remembered Lent was happening until a couple of weeks have gone by, and I've never been able to think of anything I saw the point in giving up.

Anyway, this year my bank statement arrived the day before Lent started. It didn't look good. I mean it wasn't quite a lock-yourself-in-the-house-and-cry-for-a-week bank statement, but it was not pretty. It was obvious that I needed to curb my spending, and quickly. Then something occurred to me.

I could give up....no, don't be silly. But it would be feasible...no. I couldn't do it. But I kind of need to....yes. Yes, I would do it.

I would give up internet shopping. This was a big decision. I hate shopping in every physical form, but the kind where you type what you want into a search engine, click a button and have it arrive on your doorstep in 3-5 working days is my biggest vice. But I had no money, and I Lent started the next day, so I thought it through very carefully and eventually reached this conclusion - sod it.

And I've managed it. Admittedly, Lent isn't over yet, but there's only a couple of weeks left, and I think I'm out of the danger area. The inconvenience was that everybody decided to go and have their 18th birthday whilst I was banned from Amazon, Play.com, iTunes and all the other little buttons that cruelly teased me as I scrolled down my favourites list. I actually had to haul my ass into town for my best friend's present, I half-cheated by asking a friend to order my dad's and three quarters-cheated by ordering a Mother's Day prezzie with my dad's credit card (and his permission, can I add). So maybe my Lent sacrifice isn't pure as snow, but it's certainly pure as two-day-old-slush. I haven't bought any new books, CDs or films for over a month!

Which brings me neatly to Challenge Two. A week ago I was bored and took part in a BBC survey/quiz thing, the essence of which was 'Everyone should have read these hundred books, how many have you read?' And my answer was 31. And that was...well, it depends on your definition of 'read'. If your definition includes 'got two chapters in before giving up and never looking at again', then I'm on 31. Being as I intend to actually study English Literature at university in September, it was clear to me that something had to be done.

So I made two lists: 'The Book List', which is essentially books to read before I die, and there are 158 books, and counting. Then 'Books To Read Before University' list, which is actually a pile next to my bed (before you get all accusatory; I didn't buy any new books, I just raided Mum's bookshelf - she's a Lit graduate) and is taller than your average five-year-old. So hopefully the 'Book' section of my month-end review should be a bit more substantial from now on. And the books should be traditional, critically acclaimed, timeless masterpieces like Dante's Inferno, Heller's Catch-22, Waugh's Brideshead Revisited and Kerouac's On The Road, to name but a few. And 'The Jungle Book'. Just because.

Philosophical Rambling

Have you ever had one of those friends who you know loves you, but you’re just not totally convinced that they love you as much as you love them? Sure, they ring you when they have a purpose, and they occasionally give you a spontaneous hug or randomly text you and say ‘Come over?’ They insist they’ll sit with you at that party tomorrow, and they link your arm on the walk home or tell you things hardly anyone else knows. They throw an arm over you at a sleepover, and they refer to you as a ‘best friend’ or say they’ve loved spending time with just you today.

But it’s a surprise. Not a big one, and not a bad one; just something pleasant that you didn’t expect.

Because you love them but you’ve come to expect frustration. When they say they’re going to come over and watch a film, you make sure you’re phone is in your pocket because you’re half-waiting for them to ring and cancel. You’re not angry or disappointed, and you weren’t convinced they were going to ditch you – it just would have been a ‘pleasant surprise’ if they hadn’t. They say they’ll come and sit with you in library because they don’t know anybody, but as soon as you spot someone you know is friends with them, you’re unsurprised when they wander off without a word. They comfort and cuddle you when you’re upset and crying, but you can never remember them telling you they were proud of you.

And none of these things affect your love for this friend. Occasionally you’ll be annoyed, or you’ll feel a bit ignored, a bit unimportant. But then they drop you a random text and you feel better again. You’re aware that insecurity over a friendship is not healthy, and you’ve already considered and dismissed the possibility that you actually fancy them (because just no).

So you just accept it the way it is. Sometimes they’ll disappoint you, sometimes they’ll infuriate you, sometimes they’ll make you feel worthless, sometimes they’ll single-handedly make your day, sometimes they’ll treat you so kindly you can’t believe you ever bore any negative emotion towards them, sometimes they’ll be the reason that night was one of the best nights of your life.

And you’ll continue stalking their Tumblr, because you know they post things on the internet they’d never say out loud. Even though you know they’ll probably never check your blog, though they know you have one, and read the most honest thing you ever wrote about them. You know that whenever you argue, you’ll be the one that comes crawling back. If they’re the wronged party then you’ll give it less than an hour before guilt and panic overcomes you, the possibility of losing them forever frightening you into calling them and making your grovelling apologies. And if you’re the wronged party, they’ll sit tight and wait for you to forgive them, unconsciously safe in the knowledge that you will forgive them – something you could never be quite sure of.

You know that it will always be that way. You’ll always feel like your friendship means more to you than them. But you’ll love them regardless, because you simply couldn’t do without them.

Have you ever had that?

Yeah, totally, me neither.

BEDA Fail and Further Cooking Cock-Ups

So I was going to do Blog Every Day in April, but then three things happened: -

1. On Friday I forgot it was April.
2. On Saturday I was not on a computer all day, through no fault of my own. 3. I realised I don't have enough followers for anyone to care, except me (and possibly Roz, who stalks me. And is also my best friend, but it's more relevant that she stalks me.)

In other news -- as it is Mother's Day, my dad decided that he, my brother and I would cook a three-course meal for Mum and Grandma to thank them for giving birth at various points in their lives. This seemed fair, so I tentatively agreed to cook dessert, figuring that I could get a friend who is the next Nigella to teach me how to be vaguely competent in the kitchen. I really didn't want to add this to the list of 'Things Becky Has Cooked That Went Horribly Wrong Due To One Small But Serious Balls-Up' (for full details see a blog I posted last January/February time on my many cooking mishaps). I decided, rather ambitiously, to go for a chocolate cheesecake.

Next Nigella, my best friend (who happens to be Next Nigella's sister) and I had a trial cake-bake, which all went relatively well. Then I bought all the ingredients, dug the relevant cooking implements out of the cupboard that I generally open only for the cheese grater and consulted the recipe. It all seemed to be going swimmingly, which made a nice change, and as I slid it into the over with a flourish I felt rather proud of myself. I was halfway out of the kitchen, and planning a smug text to various friends who determinedly mock my cooking disasters, when it suddenly dawned on me. My smile fell off my face instantly, I froze in horror and slowly turned to face the oven, dread written in my every feature - but it was too late. The damage could not be undone.

I'd forgotten to grease the tin.