The City of the Lost Children

This was ... odd. A very odd movie. It's ... well, it's about this troupe of weird clones that all have defects and who are trying to steal kids' dreams to help one of their number sleep. Then there's a whole lot of orphans and circus freaks who try to stop them. And it's in French, which doesn't help things make any more sense. I think I'll have to watch it a few more times to really wrap my mind around it. I mean, I get what happens, and the plot makes sense (I swear, Dali wrote that plot), but there's something there that is just kind of brain-numbing. It's one of those movies you see and then scratch your head a little, and maybe squint your eyes, scrunch up your lips and blink a few times while grunting "huh." But aside from that, or perhaps because of it, it's not a bad movie. Quite funny, in fact, though not in the laugh-out-loud variety so commonly attempted today. And there isn't much in the way of dialogue. The actors are just charicturistically expressive. No. That's not a word, but I don't want to hear it. It ought to be a word.

In short, this one odd movie.

Earlier, we had a blast watching the kiddies watch the penguin movie, then got lost on some back roads that turned into farm roads and took us an hour out of Dirt Town. On the plus side, this was a very scenic route to take, and we got to observe some nice old-style houses, which were kind of run down. Also we got to have a nice long conversation about our respective goals regarding PhDs. Oh, and we were fantastically hungry by the time we found our way back into town (via the airport, because I knew where that was), so we got to eat a nice big meal at a small Italian place that is closed during the school year (or at least that has been closed every time I tried to eat there last year). And since I keep my gas tank full for just such adventures, we were not at all worried about being stranded. Much fun was had by all. Except maybe the cat, who was left at home to shred junk mail.

A fun, pleasant, sunny but cool, spontaneously adventuresome day. Hope yours was as enjoyable.

End.

Greetings.

There's only one word to describe my new toy, and that's "nice." Say it in a soft and smooth voice, with the "n" drawn out. Almost purr that word. I know I did.

This computer has a great many features the old one did not. For instance, the screen does not go blank for long periods of time, seemingly at random. All the cords are snug, so I don't have to physically hold a cord in place to keep the computer running. The cat doesn't seem to care much about this one, where she repeatedly tried to rub the other against her gums. This one actually turns on. And stays on. So you can see I've got a good reason to purr "nice" at it every time it obeys me. And the screen is larger.

Well, enough praise for little Lazarus. Here's what I've been up to:

This afternoon, I'm off to see March of the Penguins with an officemate, followed by soup (the entree, not the movie ... is "soup" playing anywhere?). Since I'm a nature freak, and a documentary freak, this should be good.

Charlotte has decided that I am no longer allowed to sleep past seven. Now that she knows I can be roused at that hour, she is determined to keep me roused. She bats things off the nightstand, and then carts them away. She attempts to climb the gecko quilt I have hanging in that area. She gets up near the head of the bed and eats the curtains. Every time, I direct a squirt of water at her, adjusted to a very thin jet. I can hit her all the way across the apartment with it, and so I chase her out of the bedroom every time she does one of the aforementioned things. Then she comes back. Curiously, she shows no signs of this behavior once I'm out of bed. I have never once come home to find more items missing from the nightstand. The curtains and quilt never look worse for wear on my return. But damn, that cat wants me up early.

A few nights ago, I was sound asleep, when there was a loud knocking at my door. This of course immediately woke me up, and I was nothing short of pissed off when a glance at the clock revealed the time to be 3:27 am. I ignored the knocking, and tried to go back to sleep, thinking that whoever it was would realize that either no one is home, or that no one who is home wants to talk. Five minutes later, I was drifting back to sleep, and the knocking resumes, louder. I got up, threw on a bathrobe, on the off chance that I'd have to open the door for police, or something, and walked to the living room to wait for a third knock. Sure enough, whoever it was was a persistent little bugger. I went to the door and preceded to have a conversation through the barrier, since it wasn't police, or any other emergency personel. It went something along these lines:

Me: What do you want?
Him (it was a him, with a high pitched voice unsuited to yelling through doors): Is Elizabeth here?
Me: No, now go away.
Him: What?
Me: It's three F-ing thirty in the morning! Leave me alone.
Him: Do you know where Elizabeth is?
Me: I don't know an Elizabeth, and if you knock on this door again, I'm calling the cops!
Him: Ok.

At this point, Pudge wandered off and I felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for not being more polite. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was actually a little after four in the morning, and all traces of my remorse vanished. I actually quite enjoy being awake that early in the morning. For me, it is natural. However, when the sleep schedule has been moved to match that of "normal" folks, it no longer accommodates wakefulness at such times of the day. When I am awake at this time, I make my knocks on doors as quiet as possible, if I even knock in the first place. Courtesy demands that we night owls at least try not to disturb the early birds around us. Just as no early bird should blast music at eight am, so no night owl should go banging on doors after midnight. If the two tribes can maintain common courtesy for each other, no wars will break out. And let me tell you, sleep wars are nasty, nasty things. There are no winners in a sleep war. Only irate soldiers, and busy courtesy officers.

In any case, I do not feel at all guilty for not opening the door and talking to the guy. First, I'm not stupid, and it just isn't safe to do that. Second, I was wearing a bathrobe, and little else. Third, there was no reason to accomodate someone who lacks manners. If when you knock you get silence, and the lights are all off, then go away. I mean, really.

But there you have it. Other than this, I've been working, and reading. And playing with the cat, of course.

Have nice days.

End.

Extended Leave of Absence

My computer is dead. The battery does not charge, the cords are not snug enough to keep the computer juiced. Consequently, the entire thing shuts down randomly whenI try to use it. I've lost track of the aborted posts I've attempted.

Right now, infact, I am at the office, where there is no air conditioning (thermometer reads 91.3, and I believeit), and no breeze, and a spacebar that needs both hands pressed down HARD to work at all. This is a dead keyboard, or a crippled one at least. So, since I can't be bothered to spend twice the time adding spaces as Ispent writing the words, and since it's downright sweltering inhere, and lonely without the cat, I will not be blogging until I receive Lazarus--which at least will have the decency to rise from the dead--the custom-built desktop I ordered.

While it pains me to refrain from keeping in touch with everyone, I'm sure no one will die from lack of updates. Until we blog again,

End.

update on the feline stalker

I was preparing to make the trip to Walmart, bane of my checkbook, and figured it would be better the check the litter level before going. So, on opening the closet door, what catches my eye? Why, my pretty Charlotte's pretty pink collar, of course. No mouse, unfortunately, but I did find a yellow ball, some random bit of plastic, and a mutilated roach. So the cat is collared, and now makes her merry jingle as she moves about. Strangely enough, she seemed as relieved as I was when the noise started up again. I had expected her to be resentful after her brief freedom.

Other than that, I'm busily going down the list of things what must be done before hopping on a plane. Laundry, of course, tops that list. Boo, hiss.

I received some of the books for the crime fiction class, and they are legion. And long. Soon, I will start reading them, taking careful notes so I don't have to deep read them during the semester. I'd rather just skim later, since I'll be writing my own book in three months or so.

And that's about all from this corner.

End.

Return

I have returned to the land of the healthy, and hope to remain for some time. Sorry for the silence there.

It's awfully silent in the apt as well, tonight. Too silent. Charlotte has once again cleverly divested herself of her collar, and this time, I can't seem to find it. I know it's somewhere. When she catches it on something she usually drags it off to one of her haunts. But, I still haven't located M. furrii, the tiny little furry mouse she hid so well after a whole day of dragging it everywhere. And this place has been pretty worked over in the cleaning dept, so I doubt I'll ever find the thing.

The colloar, however, is bright pink. And has shiny things on it. And surely I can find it. It'll turn up sometime when I'm not looking.

In the meanwhile, Charlotte is reacquainting herself with the timeless art of the stalk. And damn, she's good without all the noise the collar makes. I feel like tying a jingle bell to her neck with some ribbon just so I can sleep tonight. But, it's better to be safer than to be sleeping soundly. I don't want her gnawing at the ribbon, which would certainly give way much easier than the collar would. And the silly cat might just eat a jingle bell if she got one.

...thinking...

Such a thing proved successful in Peter Pan, though with the swapping of a clock for a jingle bell. Perhaps my little cocodile could benefit from a generous helping of jingle bells. Alas, that I don't live where such things work.

I'm off to try sleeping, despite the silent doom that stalks my footsteps.

End.

PS: I'm going home soon!