It’s funny how, after all these weeks of complaining about my lack of time or anything resembling a social life due to exams, I’ve somehow managed to lose even more time and get even further away from society in the holidays that I was three short weeks ago, right in the heat of the examination period. How the hell did I do that? It’s so insane that it seems as though the only way to get it right is through significant, precise, scientific calculation. But, no (I think this should conclude what I’ve been saying for years: I DO KNOW IT ALL). I created this holiday abyss completely by accident: staying home, hanging out with mom, reading, making a lamp for a drama project, food… and movies! Lots of movies! So I am now hyper-prepared for the next few weeks on the blog front.

Part of my ritual of absolute nothingness includes letting my natural clock reign supreme which means late nights. Really late nights. On one evening I was taking a break from my external hard drive movie run by… watching a movie on TV. And that is how I met Chéri. Proof that beautiful (and yes, I mean beautiful) movies still exist. Please, please, please watch it, dear one.

Two things: Michelle Pfeiffer and Rupert Friend.

How did I never notice how absolutely gorgeous Michelle Pfeiffer is? Oh my goodness, the woman is 53 and simply stunning! Can’t really say much more, actually.

And then, for some completely mysterious reason, I somehow got it into my head that Rupert Friend was, well, old. Turns out he’s 29 and beautiful beyond belief (Is it just me or am I using an extraordinary amount of alliteration in this piece?). No idea where my original notion came from but I will be eternally grateful to this film for dispelling it.

The film is based on a French novel of the same name by Colette and I cannot wait to get my hands on it. A funny thing I pieced together was that the film was set in France with quite a few American actors who all spoke with British accents. Diverse much?

But alas, dearest reader, in typical fashion, yet another ending that will keep me awake at night, brooding over that sad state of the world we lie in and why true love really is a rarity. In fact, I’d personally liken it to finding a grain of sand wrapped in an invisibility cloak at the bottom of a trench in that deepest part of the Pacific Ocean where no light can ever exist, but that’s just me. Of course, it is possible to obtain, but not likely. The only ones who ever do discover it are bumbling idiots who don’t know any better than to toss it aside. Oh, the joys of being a twenty-first century romantic!

But now it’s time to return to my days of sloth, filled to the brim with cake (that I actually baked myself yesterday!) as I am. Perhaps I’ll give my hair a brush a little later. That should tire me out.

Sending love, the one and only.

That’s all.


Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

I’ve literally had no life for the past two weeks. I’ve been writing exams (and I’ve recently learned that studying can be quite the time suck. The reason that I’ve learned this lesson so late in [school-going] life is that for the past ten years I’ve been able to pass with flying colours on natural ability alone. Unfortunately, this year that tactic wasn’t going to work so well. It doesn’t really hurt my pride to admit that though because who does know that biological term for a tapeworm off the top of their head anyway?) and, alas, my run of Grey’s Anatomy has come to an end. The series cut out RIGHT BEFORE THE SEASON 6 FINALE! I suppose it’s a good thing or else my change in study habits may not have been quite as successful as it has…

Dearest reader, you have to be proud of me. In between snivelling over my lack of a life and hitting the books (no, literally. Every time I open my Biology book and see the Latin words that are in not humanly possible way going to make their way into my head by Monday, I cry out and bang my head against the open page. Don’t worry about the state of my mental health. My parents have been doing that for years and nothing has changed.), I actually, purposefully, watched a movie, for the unequivocal reason that I needed to maintain my blog (at least, that’s the one I spun to my mother the night before chemistry). And, in typical fashion, THERE WAS NOTHING TO WATCH!

Except Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. Obviously. So I Googled it to see if it was reputable. And who, of all people, just happened to be in it, playing the infamous Gordon Gecko’s daughter? CAREY MULLIGAN! CHA-CHING!

So I watched it. I loved seeing Ms. Mulligan playing an American and, of course, her accent was flawless… Which takes us back to the Meryl Streep comparison.

Similarities: Acting; blondes who were originally brunettes; flawless accents; Singing (That’s right! Hear Carey singing in Belle and Sebastian’s Write About Love single)…

Erm, okay, that’s all, but still! I’m sure I could find a whole lot more if I did some Google-ing or waited about thirty years or so!

So, the actual movie. You know, it’s weird. I watched this movie from beginning to end, totally engrossed, yet I still have absolutely no idea what the plot was.

No, seriously.

No idea.

I do remember being totally in love with it when, on top of Carey Mulligan, Susan Sarandon featured. But that’s about it. There was something about prison, a book, wall Street, something else, an old guy jumping in front of a train and a baby. But yeah, that’s about it.

So, um, yeah. I’d recommend it, I think. I enjoyed it. And if you do watch it, perhaps you could explain it to me. I’d appreciate it. Anyhoo, my lovelies. Biology calls so I’ll love and leave you. Just a quick note: If you are reading this blog and not commenting… Then please do! I’d love to hear your thoughts… Or just know that you’re out there. And also, please could you all spread the word about the Project! I’d really be grateful for it.

Until next time.

That’s all.

My Fair Lady

Oh my greatness! Honestly, I have no idea what to write about this week. Again. I promise you, dear reader, this will not continue for terribly much longer, just till the end of June when my midyear exams end. But that doesn’t really help me right now, does it? I can’t think of a single good movie I’ve seen recently. Quite frankly I can’t think of a good movie that I’ve seen, well, ever. That’s not to say that I actually haven’t, I just can’t think of one. My brain is too filled with Pygmalion and Platyhelminthes and second order difference equations. This is what my life has become and how it shall remain for the next month. I know you’re jealous.

Fine, since it’s exams and all, and as I mentioned that I’d been studying Pygmalion (for DRAMATIC ARTS (since it’s dramatic and all… get it? Anybody?)) I’ll speak about its derivative, My Fair Lady.

Since I’ve been watching this movie an average of 3 times a year since I was about 5, it quite shocked me when, last year, I learned that not a single other person in my drama class had even heard of it, never mind done the same. Of course, after studying the play and watching the musical, everybody has become a fan. Thank goodness. Because I really couldn’t handle yet another reason to disown my generation (besides Twilight, the Kardashians (even though they are kind of entertaining…), Jay Z, “emo”, sex tapes, underage (binge) drinking, Justin Bieber, Megan Fox, Facebook, Blackberrys (or is it Blackberries?), bringing 80s fashion back, Ke$ha, etc, etc…).

I really loved this movie all my life. It has been there for me through good and bad, all my ups and downs, right beside BOMC and Mamma Mia!. At least, that was the case until Mrs D, my Drama teacher, casually and seemingly-inconsequentially mentioned that in fact, Audrey Hepburn LIPSYNCHED HER WAY THROUGH IT!!! WTF 😐

So now I’m over it (well, almost) and speaking about it has just put me in a terrible mood, one that will definitely not suite my planned studying of drama (of all things!) today. Guess I’ll just have to watch Grey’s Anatomy Season 6 instead. Don’t you agree?

*insert nod here*

Sigh. FML.

That’s all.

P.S. Clearly exams are not doing anything for my mental and emotional health.

An Education

So much seems to have changed since my last entry. For one thing, school has started again and since it’s both short and an exam term life has been… psychotic to say the least. Also, I’ve become an avid Grey’s Anatomy watcher (which has done absolutely nothing for my “studies”) after I found that seasons 2-6 mysteriously found their way via osmosis onto my external hard drive. Last weekend I watched 21 40 minute episodes. That is equal to 14 hours of my life that I will never get back. Also, I’ve given up on Amas de Casa Desesperadas (that’s Desperate Housewives for all you non-Spanish speaking/Encarta Dictionary Translator-less people out there). Or maybe not so much given up as taking a break. I’ve watched the show every Thursday night since I was 11 and it’s time to see what else the realms of American TV has to offer. And also, Grey’s is just SOOOOO much better, what with the stressful operations and the weird diseases and screwed up families and even more screwed up relationships and McDreamy and McSteamy and McWho-ever-else and…*breathes*

I’m just a tad obsessed…


I’m not entirely sure what exactly I’m writing about as of right now, what with the Grey’s obsession and exams and whatnot, but I have to post something because I’m already two days late…

Despicable Me: watch it. It’s really cute and really funny and if you’re able to get your hands on a minion… SEND IT TO ME!

New Moon: yes, I watched it. My mother forced me to. Sigh. I’m not even gonna comment.

Eclipse: Ditto. Hmmm…

I really haven’t been watching any movies lately.

No, An Education!

I’ve recently fallen in love with Carey Mulligan and I think, no matter how much it hurts me to consider her dethroning, out of all the working actresses today under 35, she is the one who could be the new Queen Meryl Streep. She is gorgeous to watch. And she played a sixteen-year-old who falls for an older man so well. Jenny wasn’t pathetic or whiny or naïve and as a fellow female sixteen-year-old who aspires to read English at Oxford… Well, I wanted to jump through my TV screen and join her world and let us become the best of friends for the rest of our lives. Sadly, it didn’t work and my father came downstairs to the disturbing image of me banging my head against the screen crying, “Why?! Jenny! I’m here! I get it!” Due to the relatively common nature of these outbursts in my house, he made his coffee, turned off the kitchen light and want off to bed without batting an eyelash.

My mother followed my lead and watched it a few weeks later, after which she came up to my room where I was reading before bed and declared, “You’re never setting another foot out of this house.” Funny how that didn’t seem to apply when school started the next day.

Sigh. “Welcome to my silly life.”

 That’s all.


I always thought that Atonement was one of those dime-a-dozen period movies about two young lovers who aren’t supposed to be together but fall in love and are suddenly separated by a war in which one of them dies and the other has to pretend that it doesn’t mean a lot and spend the rest of their lives holding onto the memory of their only true love without telling a soul. Vomit.

But it wasn’t. Even though Keira Knightley was the star.

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that the film is based on a novel by Ian McEwan from 2001 instead of your classic Brontë or Austin. I also really loved the way the scenes transitioned through time without it getting overly complicated. Everything was detailed just enough so that it all still made sense and didn’t go too far off the line of action.

Now I have a confession to make, dearest reader. The only reason that I actually watched this movie was because I am not in possession of my hard drive at this moment in time (many thanks to daddy dearest =|) so I have not been able to continue my journey through Grey’s Anatomy for the past week or so. Instead, as a poor substitute, I’ve been going through all the movies stored on my computer that I haven’t yet got round to watching. And Atonement was the last one. So yes, I admit to scratching (what I thought was) the bottom of the barrel, but also admit that I was wrong (which is an occasion I advise you take note of as it’s not a regular occurrence).

Now, as per usual, the music. It didn’t really strike me throughout most of the movie until near the end when they pulled out the magic wild card that works every time. Debussey’s Clair de Lune. Listen to it and (along with almost instantly recognising it) you’ll understand.

I’ve really started taking good notice of Saoirse Ronan (and I know that sound really snooty considering we’re the same age…) in recent years. I watched City of Ember a few years ago. It was awful but I remember taking a mental note of Ronan. And then she turned up in The Lovely Bones and now Atonement. I look forward to seeing her in The Hobbit soon. I thought she made a wonderful young Briony, capturing her innocence, naïveté and general awe as she finds her world repeatedly jolted one evening.

The only thing that really bugged me about Atonement is that the ending is so terribly sad! Why is it that I now have to do penance for watching a genuinely good movie by not being able to sleep at night?! Story of my life, really! The Bridges of Madison County. The Hours. Black Swan. Despicable Me (What ever happens to Kyle? Does he spend the rest of his life living in fear of Agness? We never know do we?! How can you possibly expect me to sleep when these are the kinds of problems I have to live with?!)

Guess I’ll have to find a way of dealing with it. Or at the very least, an excellent shrink…

Finally, I must say that I rather enjoyed this film. At the very least, I did not vomit (which is more than I can say about Twilight, even though it also used Clair de Lune but that’s a memory I’d rather put behind me).

That’s all x

The Devil Wears Prada

I recently watched The September Issue, but I didn’t choose to “review” it as I’ve watched the dramatised version a billion times more. Literally. And to say that I love drama would be the understatement of the century.

I watched TDWP for the first time (of many) in 2006 with my friends. Then again with my mom. And a third time alone. All in its two-week run at my local cinema. And I was eleven, but I was in love. With fashion, with New York City, with Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly, with Madonna’s music (both Jump and Vogue feature in the film) and with the numerous, free-willed, almost instinctive trips to Starbucks for fresh coffee. For the first time since Barney, I felt complete, and when it was over I was left with the burning desire in my soul to be a part of that perfect world forever. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up as a new character in that world, unaware and at the same time perfectly in tune with my audience. And the fire has never left.

Of course I could do without the corruption, backstabbing, lying, materialistic world views, etc. I know they’re wring. But at the same time, they come with the territory, as they do with every other job ever invented, from IT to professional gymnastics. But somehow it’s still everything I long for. Clothes, New York, parties, writing, drinking coffee, Simon Baker… And one day I just want to feel the satisfaction of saying, “I did it. I made it happen. High-5 me!” And I think it would be more an appreciation of beauty and of knowing that I could make something out of nothing by turning pieces of material into works of art and experiences into articles that include all those who read them. That’s what I want above all.

And now for the quote, because there just are that many that I fell in love with!

Miranda: Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I’m not going to approve that girl that she sent me for the Brazilian layout. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirty, tired and paunchy. And R.S.V.P. Yes to Michael Kors’ party, I want the driver to drop me off at 9:30 and pick me up at 9:45 sharp. Call Natalie at Glorious Foods and tell her no for the 40th time. No! I don’t want dacquoise. I want tortes filled with warm rhubarb compote. Then call my ex-husband and remind him that the parent-teacher conference is at Dalton tonight. Then call my husband, ask him to meet me for dinner at that place I went to with Massimo. Tell Richard I saw the pictures that he sent for that feature on the female paratroopers and they’re all so deeply unattractive. Is it impossible to find a lovely, slender, female paratrooper? Am I reaching for the stars here? Not really. Also, I need to see all the things that Nigel has pulled for Gwyneth’s second cover try. I wonder if she’s lost any of that weight yet. Who is that?

Miranda: By all means move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me.

Andy: So none of the girls here eat anything? Nigel: Not since two became new four and zero became the new two. Andy: Well, I’m a six… Nigel: Which is the new fourteen.

Miranda: Something funny? Andy: No. No, no. Nothing’s… You know, it’s just that both those belts look exactly the same to me. You know, I’m still learning about all this stuff and, uh… Miranda: ‘This… stuff’? Oh. Okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select… I don’t know… that lumpy blue sweater, for instance because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise. It’s not lapis. It’s actually cerulean. And you’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent… wasn’t it who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room from a pile of stuff.

Miranda: And this layout for the Winter Wonderland spread. Not wonderful yet.

Nigel: But we’re not expected until Tuesday. Did she say why? Andy: Yes. She explained every detail of her decision-making. And then we brushed each others’ hair and gabbed about American Idol. Nigel: I see your point.

Jocelyn: Well… they’re showing a lot of florals right now, so I was thinking… Miranda: Florals? For spring? Ground breaking.

Miranda: You have no sense of fashion… Andy: I think that depends on… Miranda: No, no, that wasn’t a question.

Miranda: Find me that piece of paper I had in my hand yesterday morning.

Miranda: Oh, please… it’s just- I don’t know- drizzling. [Background in Miami shows a huge storm and smashing thunder]

And lastly, in the great words of Miranda Priestly,

That’s all.

Eat Pray Love

I thought it apt to comment on this film as I’m having a bit of a minor confidence crisis with regards to my writing since I received my English term mark and discovered I was only second in my year (WTF?).

A few months ago my mother proposed the idea of me starting a blog to put my talent (or lack thereof if one were to ask the English Department at my school) out there, but I felt that I needed some sort of game plan before I did, like Julie Powell. It was while watching Eat Pray Love that I came up with such a line of action. See, loved the idea of taking a year and just finding and being me. Spontaneously.

I’d read the book a few years ago and I hated it. I found Elizabeth Gilbert self-pitying and pathetic, but the movie, for some unknown reason, found a way of breathing new life into it. I was thoroughly drawn in and found myself, at 16, completely empathising with the character Julia Robert created (Haha! Especially when she tries meditating! Loved that scene!). As I watched I found myself thinking, I want to go to Italy! I want to stay in an Ashram! I want to become friends with a toothless Balinese medicine man!

When it was over I felt so overcome with sudden inspiration that I felt at last the urge, the urge that had for so long been absent and that I had so sorely missed, to write. I don’t mean just a poem or even an essay, but something lasting. Having tried the novel thing and failed miserably, the brainchild was conceived; so obviously, so awesomely, so…naturally, if you will, that it seemed such a mundane yet extraordinary thing for me to do, just like, oh, I don’t know…Physics homework (I mean, really! Who came up with the idea of calculating the speed of light? And then decided to teach it to 14-year-olds in schools around the world while they quite literally die of boredom? Seriously!)!

But that’s how this began. I opened a Word Document and immediately made a list of movies that had inspired, touched or had in some way stayed with me and the reasons why. A few days later I Googled (Don’t you think it’s funny how that word has become a regular part of the modern vernacular yet still Microsoft refuses to accept it as one in spell checker… Yet it recognises itself… Snooty li’l bitches! I bet they’re just waiting for the day that people start saying, “Oh, I Microsfted it,” in casual conversation. Well, never gonna happen, honey! But anyways…) “best blogging site,” WordPress won and voila! The Filmic Inspiration project was born.

And I’ve loved every minute of it since, English talent or not. It’s something to call my own and it’s something I’ve stuck to (so far). I love it when people ask me about myself (and, yes, I could end that sentence there, but…) and I say I love to write and have a blog and every single time I do their eyes go wide and they say, “A blog? Really? Hm. Well, you must give me the address so I can check it out.” I can only compare it to the way a mother show off her child.

Well, the Project is my baby, my fledgling. When every thing is going wrong, I look at it and know that it will be okay. When someone comments, my heart soars because I know it’s their way of saying, “You’re a great mother and yes, your child is something special. And when I reply, it’s my way of saying, “Stop corrupting my child!” Rademan! 😐

I know I didn’t speak too much about the film this week, but I think it speaks for itself so watch it! And thanks for reading. 🙂

That’s all.

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