Short and Sweet. The blog, not me.

I would just like to say that 1 Chronicles is a way cooler book than I remember it being. I highly recommend it, y'all. Just when it starts to get overwhelmingly listy, a refreshingly honest prayer or song pops up. And I'm a list person anyway....

And David rocks. Literally and figuratively.

Superman vs. Braveheart

Both movies are on right now. Braveheart is winning the suck-Nadine-in battle.

All I have to say is, any woman in her right mind would choose William Wallace over Kal-El any day. Yes, kilt over cape.

The Lake House

Sometimes I suck at being a girl. After church today, I tried to go shopping. I still need shoes. This was my third shoe trip. Again, empty handed. I went on to clothing shopping, and again failed miserably. Shopaholic I am not. Material Girl I shall never be.

To prove to myself that I'm still all girlie and feminine, I went to see The Lake House. Movies always fit. No change rooms, no confusing price tags or cleaning instructions.

The movie could very well have the tagline "True love waits." While it was far from being a great movie, it was a little refreshing for Hollywood fare (as evidenced in my tagline). It kind of reminded me of a Bebo Norman song:

But I will dream of tomorrow
Where the past will not be in my way
Passion lives another day
And I will dream of tomorrow
Where perhaps she'll wait for me

Perhaps She’ll Wait – Bebo Norman

Reasons you may not like The Lake House:

• Keanu Reeves is the romantic leading man. And apparently is better at fake-crying than he is at fake-sneezing.
• The whole time warp issue. Unless you’re good at the whole major-suspension-of-belief thing, the plot holes will drive you crazy.
• Sandra Bullock is looking younger with age. If you have aging issues, you may want to cry.
• You’re cynical. Or a guy.

Reasons you may like it:

• You like Bebo Norman songs (see above).
• You happen to believe that waiting for love is romantic (think Jacob waiting for Rachel twice – we’re talking serious waiting here).
• You know better than the critics and think Keanu deserves an Oscar.
• It’s less than two hours.

I'm not sure how many thumbs up I'd give the flick, but it did make me think a little more than X:3 and The DaVinci Code. I was a little disappointed it didn't make me cry. Too many plot holes and not enough character development to move anybody. But the last line was (predictable, yes, but) pretty darn perfect.

The Gift of Loneliness

I had a couple weird dreams last night. I've been fighting a miserable headache all week, and I'm blaming that on the randomness of them.

One involved an Amy Grant concert in which she didn't sing a single hit of hers. Everything really obscure.

The other had me marrying an old friend out of some sort of obligation. Oddly enough, I didn't really care that we weren't getting along or hadn't seen each other in years. When I woke up, I felt so lonely, as if this husband of mine had just disappeared into the abyss. I was half-expecting an e-mail from him today. It just felt so real.

I was going to try to pontificate on the single life (not quite an expert, but I have a lot of experience), when I came across this article. It's pretty much all I wanted to say, so just read it and pretend that I'm nodding along.

The Problem with Justice (of the Human Kind)

The only brief moment in my life I have ever considered becoming a lawyer was in 11th grade law class. I didn't want to prosecute anybody, and I wasn't really all that interested in defending a bunch of criminals either. All I wanted was to see Steven Truscott exonerated. And now, it actually might happen.

I've been a little obsessed with his case since I first read about it. Three books, and many documentaries and articles later, he's become my national hero. For a 14-year-old to be sentenced to be hanged "until you are dead" and stripped of an adolescence due to a community's blind need for instant justice is abhorrent. The fact that he has grown up to be a hard-working family man who harbors no bitterness is miraculous.

Let the man have his name cleared. Drop the pride, Canada, and admit that you failed a young boy 47 years ago. And then give him the Order of Canada for never turning his back on the country that wounded him, and for choosing to live a full life decades after you sentenced him to die.

(And ridiculous change of subject: Go Edmonton!)

Jesse and the Rippers

Someone discovered this video at work today. I figured it went well with yesterday's post.
Please keep in mind that this video was made in character (explaining his wedding ring and twin boys floating in the sky).

I laughed so hard. It made my day.



I can't imagine why money was invested in such a thing, but I'm glad it was.

Randomness Vol. 1

This is one of those blogs that has no real topic, just a bunch of random thoughts that have been running through my head all day.

• Keanu Reeves is hilarious when you watch him at double speed.
• I think I used to share a wardrobe with Stephanie Tanner. I wanted to be D.J. I wanted to marry Uncle Jesse. I was a messed-up kid.
• Is The Killing Fields really an inspirational movie?
• I suck at shopping. I tried to buy shoes, but ended up buying a gross sweater that I’ll be returning tomorrow.
• Is it possible to eat too much lettuce?
• Charles Price rocks. And is slightly psychic. Or actually in tune with God.
• “The little punks have always counted.” – Meet John Doe
• Why would someone start a rumour that Steve Urkel is dead?
• I'm so glad Gene Kelly didn't become a lawyer.
• I think my street smells like Minden, Ontario. I don't know why.
• Cheering for England but betting on Argentina is like my parents cheering for me but betting on the other team: the smart thing to do.
• I think I challenged a guy in LA to a fight. I know I challenged a guy in Toronto to a fight. Chicken.
  
• The Pinky and the Brain theme song is too catchy for its own good.
• I don't know what I'd do if I was stuck in a lifeboat with a Bengali tiger. Other than die. I'm no Pi. He should stick to taming tigers and leave the big sweeping God statements to people who know God. Like Oprah. Kidding.
• Keira's Pride and Predjudice doesn't suck. It's actually quite good. No Colin Firth, but still, "You have bewitched me, body and soul" is pretty darn romantic. *Swoon*
  

So that's my head this lovely Wednesday evening. I'm half-watching AFI's 100 Years, 100 Cheers on TV. I don't know if I'll make it all the way through. I'll probably just read the final list online tomorrow. I get up at 6, peoples.

On now: "We'll always have Paris."

I swear, that movie is on every single best-movie list that has ever been created.
"And the greatest 80's horror flick is...Casablanca!"

Night, all.

World Cup Vs. Stanley Cup

At work, they’re trying to set up a World Cup pool. Since I won the Oscar pool (I knew Crash would win Best Picture), I have a reputation to protect. The problem? I have no real idea what I’m talking about. I mean, I know the rules of soccer, but I don’t know much about the teams this year. Or any other year.

I’m thinking Brazil, Argentina and England look good. I’ve been doing my research. That’s what I do.

We started talking about why the World Cup is so much more exciting than the cup named Stanley. Here’s my personal top-10 list:

1. It’s only every four years, like the Olympics. You can’t get sick of it that way.
2. It’s a national thing. How many Oilers are from Edmonton? From Canada? North America?
3. The teeth: I’ve never seen Beckham without his teeth in.
4. Beyond the teeth: No scars. No major disfiguration. Essentially, the soccer players win in the beauty department.
5. The fans are crazier. And make up about 1/3 of the world’s population.
6. The commentators are so frikkin’ cool. Especially the British ones.
7. None of this best-of-7 crap. They play and either win or lose. That’s the way it should be. And games are on all the time. For only a month.
8. Toronto comes alive. Flags are everywhere; sports bars are rolling in the dough; everyone’s pumped.
9. Anyone can play soccer. Even little girls who drop kick the ball over their own head into their own net. Again.
10. Anyone can win. It’s the sport of the underdog. Go Trinidad and Tobago.

For those who are following closely, I have the weekend to decide who will be the No. 1 and 2 teams, and what the final score will be. Any suggestions?

Liar, Liar, Jersey on Fire

One wintry day in grade nine, I stood just inside the side entrance of my high school, waiting for my mom to pick me up for an orthodontist appointment. Unbeknownst to me, this was also the pickup spot for the track team (it must have been an indoor event, it was so cold). A runner walked up to me (no, she didn’t run), asking me if I was heading to the meet. I said no. I believe she responded with something along the lines of, “Oh, well, you look athletic. That’s a good thing.”

I felt like a failure, and for two reasons: A, until Trivial Pursuit becomes a recognized sport, I am no athlete, and B, my image was clearly deceitful. I needed to ditch the Nike coat (now worn by my mother on super-cold days. Somehow, she doesn’t look as quarterbackish as I did) and the sneakers for a nerdier look. Something more honest.

And now I feel equally dishonest with the hockey game on in the background. Have I watched a single game this season? Have I cared? Do I care now? Is it my cultural obligation to be thrilled beyond belief that a team far away (if this was Europe, Edmonton would be eight countries away) is playing for a shiny oversized chalice that they don’t even get to keep? (This is why I’d rather win an Oscar; I could display it in my bathroom forever).

I am excited. I really am. I’m just not sure why. Have I been convinced that this is exciting? Did I lose some debate? Or am I just looking to fill some void in my life? Maybe my life is lacking in major excitement. Maybe I need an excuse to paint a maple leaf on my face and scream obnoxiously.

Oh, there it goes. The channel surfing has begun. I think I’ll just watch the game during commercials. I feel more comfortable with half-watching. Maybe I’ll work my way up to a full game, watching a little more every game until game 4, or 5, or 6….

I think there’s something missing when you watch a game alone in silence.

Oh, look, it’s Ben Mulroney, my second-favourite Canadian. Right after Don Cherry.

Go Edmonton!

X-Men: The Last Stand

I just saw X-Men. It was all right. Nothing spectatular. A little cluttered with too many characters. Too big of a story. It tried to be a social commentary, but it wasn't. And you don't get an A for effort in Hollywood.

However, there were some hot girls for the guys to look at, some hot guys for the girls to look at, a bunch of explosions, a few veins popping out of foreheads, a bunch of screaming and kicking, and Hugh Jackman attempts to cry. If that's your kind of thing, you'll love this flick.

Honestly, it probably wouldn't have been that bad if the first two hadn't set the standard high. Instead, insert the Rush Hour director and get a generic action flick with a fuzzy Kelsey Grammer awkwardly running around.

It's better than Da Vinci as there's an actual fun factor. However, if you're looking for a great movie, I still recommend Thank You For Smoking.

Céline May Outlast the Boat...

“Someday the Titanic will collapse upon itself.”

I was watching a documentary on the shipwreck (no, Dad, I was not watching the Leonardo movie) which followed an exhibition to explore the theory that the ship’s bottom was scraped as well as the side of the hull, ensuring its doom.

I’ve always had a fascination with the Titanic. In the fourth grade, I was in a drama club that met at lunch hour. One day, my teacher had us reenact the sinking of the ship. She read us a short story about the iceberg and the lifeboats, and then we flung ourselves madly across the portable, screaming for help. I’ve been a little obsessed ever since.

And now I’m being told that the ship might fall apart? What? If anyone out there reading this happens to have access to a submarine, let me know. I don’t have money to give you but you’ll make me very happy, and the thrill of generosity should be a reward in itself. I’ve always wanted to see a shipwreck. Without actually being on a sinking ship. And without having the ship being brought to land. I want to meet one in its habitat. Preferably the Titanic.

I think the appeal of being a writer is that I can justify exploring my interests as research. So I’m thinking, in the spirit of the sequel obsession, I should write Titanic II: Still at the Bottom before there’s nothing much left to work with.

In the Right Place

I was having a moment of self-pity the other day. I realized I didn't have any real friends in the city. Of course, this isn't true, but when you get into that "this sucks" headspace, it's easy to feed the internal drama. Probably closer to the truth is that I don't really know any Christians. I'm in that awkward age group that makes it hard to A, find Christian peers, and B, work my way into a pre-existing group of Christian young adults at a church.

And then God snapped me out of my sulk.

First of all, I have friends. I really do. Sure, most of them happen to subtitle for a living, but I happen to believe that subtitlers are pretty cool. And for some of my colleagues who are new to the city, I am one of their only friends. So while I have no Christian friends, their only friend is a Christian. I'm the only Christian in my work environment. How humbling is that? For some, I am the only example of Christ they may have.

Secondly, I have been given a gift most PK's don't get to experience; I get to experience church from the outside. Until recently, I've never really thought about the newcomer's perspective, how awkward and intensely lonely church can be when forced to sit at the back alone, welcomed solely by the usher, and ignored and out-of-the-loop for the rest of the service. How many times have I failed to pay attention to the people around me? How do I know if they're a follower of Christ or a desperate seeker about to abandon hope if I don't make the effort to get to know them?

Moral of my story: Nadine, snap out of your funk. Be grateful for the unique position God's put you in. You wanted out of the Christian bubble, and you're out. Now go love on some people...

My Life is Worth Something

A follow-up to my "Blonde Moment of the Month" post.

After having signed my birthdate instead of the real date on my life insurance application, things are now sorted out. I have been approved. My life is worth something. Not a whole lot, mind you, but enough to have me properly buried (that's really all I need the insurance for).

I would like my coffin to be lined with flannel. In case you were wondering.