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Black Book and Lives of Others!
And playing in both Tinseltown and Fifth Avenue! Gotta gotta gotta watch them before they are out of theatres and don't make it onto dvd here in Canada!!! ahhhh!
Who's with me and wants to go see?
gotta keep my eye on more forgein films to watch nowadays.
I'm probably just a little insane and jetlagged right now! :)
but i am coming home!
my tickets are booked for May 2nd!
So I remember the sentiments and feelings around this time of the year with just the highs and lows of destressing and coming off of exams and papers and labs and just everything that seems the world and IS the whole world at the moment. Marks and doing well in school are obviously very important. It is funny now for me to think about it from a semi-removed perspective because i have never had a break from it all for...well as long as I can remember.
I mean, I've kind of been in school non-stop just the same as all of you for the longest time. And by the time I go back to school I'll have been away from school for such a long time, I worry that I just won't get a handle of things again like all of you.
But then again, I finally finished the book I've been reading since this past summer by Robertson Davies World of Wonders, and there was something in there that made a lot of sense to me. The one part about education and being in school, and how when you are in university you are shaped in a very particular way, and it is an illusion and you can really get into this mindset. And it is true. I don't think I've come out of it yet because I am still a student and i am still expecting to go back, and I am just on a working holiday right now, and not actually a part of the workforce yet.
In fact, I do actually feel pretty naked and stupid without my degree. I really don't think I could come out and join the workforce without going back to school and doing some more serious schooling.
But my point is, with writing this blog this time, is to sympathize with you all this season as you're coming all out of exams. I remember this time every year, all the posts would be filled with talking about exams and just worries of marks, including my own posts. It's a real worry and I just wanted to take the time to write and say that I understand where you all are coming from.
It's interesting because before leaving for France someone told me that the French tend to be very depressive people. And I thought about that and I tried to conclude, hmm, yeah that might be why they have so many holidays and such now. To combat all that "malheureux". But after I came here, I realiwed that the real depression was all back home. There was way more "malheureux" back in Vancouver. And in all of Canada. That's what makes Canadian films, books, and art so depressing. We come from a damned ass cold country, we're poor, and we'll always be Going Down the Road to try to go and find someplace or someTHING that is always better for us. The thing is, it is pretty damn hard living in that country. And now don't start to get the wrong idea here, like I am going to say something about how I prefer to live in France because I don't. There is another line in Davies' book about how as Canadians we feel like strangers in our country, but we wouldn't call home anywhere else. And that's what I've been starting to feel more and more of lately.
I think just being away from it all temporarily has made me think about Canada more, really in this way. And understand just this depression that everyone goes through living there. Don't deny it guys. I know "depression" sounds like some over-dramatic word like "emo" or something here. But it just really fucks me off when everyone is like denying how depressed they are all the time, but then they go and do stuff that's really dumb and hurtful to cope with it. I'd rather that we actual learn to say "hey, we're depressed" like the French do when they whine and actually admit to "malheureux", "fatigue" and "ennuie". That I think at least we can take away from them. And then eat some good cheese, chocolate, and drink it off with some wine. :ppppppppppp Hahahaha. And aboveall, not to do the three all alone though! You have to do that around a table with other people! Cause then you make each other all happy and jolly again!
See you all again when I get back for some happy-jolly making! I'll supply the food and the wine! :ppppppp (although it might just be the chocolate because i am too afraid of US/Canadian customs putting me in jail for brining anything else back!)
http://riviera0607.blogspot.com
it's in anticipation of going to france soon...
I'm really considering buying the movie actually because it's pretty cheap right now on amazon.ca and actually I really love the soundtrack in this bizarre way. There's no real way i can get the soundtrack. It's really bizarre when i type in the name on amazon and get a hit for this LP entitled "Ost" from like iceland or something at near $40. Verrry weird. But I don't think I could order it, and I probably wouldn't pay that much money for it.
I'm really hooked on Canadian films actually. Really addicted actually. Some movies are understandably crap because well, i suppose in every department there are crap films, but actually a lot of this stuff is grade A. I mean I almost even appreciate what these directors have been able to do, to produce with such limited budgets. it's almost like they take the aspect and run with it. low budget becomes a part of the film.
I really don't like CGI actually. I think it still looks very fake to me. except for what they've been able to do with real life things with like creating airplane crashes or something. but anytime they try to do something fantastic with like fictional beings like aliens or something, it just does not look believeable. so I kind of appreciate the traditional methods of camera tricks & etc. because for some reason it doesn't seem as contrived. it's more raw and i think people aren't done with working with what cameras are capable of doing, and animation for that matter. like what the director of Scanner Darkly did with the "interpolated rotoscoping" and basically filming live actors and then animating over top of them. my sister and i watched one tv show like that late night on YTV or something, and it was pretty good. i mean it's just remarkable because when you watch it, you know it's animated, but then you're like, geez, how did they capture people moving like that. that's the only time in animation that I've seen it that they can really get characters make real-to-life human movements...because there really ARE actors there in the first place making those movements. that's why it catches your eye. i wonder if that makes it a hell of a lot more expensive that way...
Wilby Wonderful was totally excellent too. I'd want to buy that too...but probably too much spending at the moment...i also ended up buying a handful of new clothes so :S at the moment. I still have to buy Léolo eventually. I'm not sure exactly what I'm waiting for because the price on that will never exactly come down...but
Oh, and I also bought some booty off of the asthmatickitty website, like Sufjan Stevens and Halfhanded Cloud cd's. I've had quite my share of the spendings....
Another Canadian movie that really affected me was Flower & Garnet which was really quite good, and yet, somehow not enough that i want to buy it. i suppose because it was really tragic. i'm strange. if i'm to own a movie, it has to have the whole package and be able to shift in and out of tragedy and comedy deftly.
My current mission is to get a hold of Rainbow War, which is a 20 minute movie according to IMDB, but still entitled as such, and not in quotations as a short film would be. I have high hopes that my dad has it on VHS somewhere, as he was the first person to ever screen it to me at six years of age. i think mostly because it had something to do with paint.
anyhoo, so i have a thing for these tragic-comic Canadian films and another weird thing for 80's movies. I'd really own Brazil actually.
and in other news, i would own beijing bicycle except that it'd be too painful to watch again, like disney's cinderella which is, hands down, admittedly my favourite disney movie off all time, no matter what you all say. of course I love a lot of other disney movies too, and have probably seen 101 Dalmations as many times, but i'm telling you, just watch the conflict in cinderella, it's incredibly painful. I mean the mice first of all go through a hell of a time with the pet cat lucifer trying to pilfer cinderella's sister's pearls for her dress, they succeed, and then that gets wrecked, and later on they do an incredible job of getting the key out of the stepmother's pocket and all the way up the stairs to the tower where she's locked away in. man oh man. there's just too much conflict! i will own in the mood for love eventually because it was a great movie AND the soundtrack is pretty damn awesome too. :P
p.s. Donnie Darko = mindjob. and Saved is pretty damn funny.
Thanks!
And then my mom starts talking about the birthday dinner for my dad. Oh yeah, when my dad called he started asking me if I could drink smoothies and milkshakes, and I was like "NO!" Torture! Then I said I was going to the library, but my mum was like, "Going out to get a coffee and a muffin." And I was like "NO! You're so mean." But really by then I wasn't thinking about the hunger anymore. Except that by writing about it, I'm probably thinking about the hunger, eh? But not so. This is just so small and piddly a thing for me to do whereas kids living in poverty everywhere feel this all the time. Plus I've got videos and stuff to do to occupy my mind whereas chances are they're probably spending every moment fighting to live.
Anyhoo, if you want to, please donate to me at http://www2.worldvision.ca/famine/128686
Love Amanda
April 12, 2006
The most precious drops in the world
By John Fischer
Part I
The wounds on his hands bled slowly. Pressure from the weight of his body held back the flow. If there had been no other sounds that afternoon, it probably would have sounded like the slow, steady drip off the eaves of a mountain cabin on a damp, foggy night.
But there were many sounds. Taunts from the soldiers, weeping and wailing from the women near the feet of Jesus, even careless laughter from children playing haphazardly around the perimeter of the crucifixion hill, oblivious to the significance of this particular execution. Small dark puddles would gather briefly under the top beam of the cross, only to be covered by the shuffle of a guard’s feet. And then it would start in again: drip … drip … drip – little droplets seen but not heard.
Mary saw them. She stared at the puddle through her bloodshot eyes while his life flashed before her, and it seemed to her that the earth swallowed his blood as if it had been created for this. As if it were drinking its fill and would thirst no more.
Then she slowly turned her eyes up to his face, and her breath failed her. He already had her in the grasp of his eyes. It was the first time he had looked at her from the cross, and suddenly it seemed as if she were falling into a bottomless abyss. She looked until she could bear it no more and turned her eyes away so she could catch her breath again. Once more her gaze went to the small puddle in the dirt, and it seemed now that she, and only she, could hear the droplets landing, loud enough to shut out all other sounds.
Then she heard his words spoken to her: “Dear woman, here is your son.” And to the disciple he loved, “Here is your mother.”
Soon after that, the dripping stopped, right after the earth shook and Jesus cried out with a voice that nearly shut down Mary’s heart for good. And all was still except for the sucking, sporadic breathing coming from the other two criminals.
“This one’s already dead,” said one of the guards. “Can you believe that?”
“No need to break his legs, I guess,” said another.
“Well, just to make sure …” One of them approached the dead body of Jesus with his spear, and before Mary could scream out, “No!” he thrust its tip up into the torso of the Son of God just under the ribs. Her scream and the sudden flow of blood and water came out at the same time.
Disgusted, the guard wiped a few drops from his face and walked away, oblivious to the fact that these were drops of blood that could set him free forever.
April 13, 2006
What Nicodemus saw
By John Fischer
Part II
Better late than never, Nicodemus thought as he waited for Joseph of Arimathea to return from his meeting with Pilate. The sky was black with night, and the torches around the crosses cast long flickering shadows over the hillside. Only the shadows danced. The bodies were still, none stiller than the one in the middle.
They had found each other, Joseph and Nicodemus: two wealthy Jews. Too well-connected to risk following Jesus in life, they had finally risen to the occasion now in his death and were prepared to ensure proper care and burial for the body.
Nicodemus had watched the crucifixion the way he followed Jesus for the last three years – from a distance. Now in the darkness, he ventured closer. Suddenly, a tear-stained face filled his vision as if out of nowhere.
“Aren’t you … ?”
“Nicodemus.” He finished it for the man. “I have followed from afar. I wanted to come closer, but I’ve been foolish and afraid. Now I am too late.”
“No, you aren’t. You are here,” said John, newly named son of Mary. “Come.”
John gently took Nicodemus’ arm and guided him closer to the women who were still huddled near the cross. They were in shock, out of touch with everything, even grief. Nicodemus had first resisted John, but once he was in the light and the company of the others, he broke into a thousand pieces inside and started to cry uncontrollably. Suddenly he was touched and held and surrounded by people he did not even know, and they all seemed thankful for a fresh supply of tears.
Nicodemus looked into the faces of people he would have judged hours earlier and wondered at what he saw in their eyes. These were unlearned peasants, but they seemed so much wiser than he.
Then he looked at the body of Jesus, and in the lifeless form on the cross he saw himself – a tired old self-righteous man, weary of justifications and the foolish arrogance that kept him from people. He saw the ugliness of his pride and the lies by which he tried to maintain his superiority. He saw it all and hated himself in that moment, and he wept bitterly, alternately abhorring and longing for the touch he was receiving from those around him.
“He spoke of you often,” said John with his arm on Nicodemus’ shoulder. “He said you were one of the few in your position who could see.”
“He did?” Nicodemus raised his wet eyes and wiped them with the sleeve of his robe. “I didn’t know myself ... until just now.”
Up until now, Nicodemus had been dealing with Jesus and the prophets and the nation of Israel and the Gentiles in his mind – each part fitting like clues to a mystery that drew him closer and closer to the cross as if he were following a long shadow toward its source. But now that he was there, right to it, standing right in front of God’s intervention in human history, with all his knowledge and the new revelations he had gained, all he could see was Nicodemus and the sin of Nicodemus. And all he could do was weep, but not the bitter tears of self-pity and remorse he was used to. This was a longed-for release – strangely sweet, cleansing tears, the first blush of forgiveness, in the process of being won by the man on the cross.
April 14, 2006
That first Easter morning
By John Fischer
Part III
The sun rose that first Easter morning on an entirely different world than the one that had existed hours earlier. For most people, to be sure, it was the same. Birds twittered as they usually did in their pre-dawn revelry. Lazy dogs barked at the sound of the first early risers. In his penthouse in downtown Jerusalem, Pilate rolled over in bed and moaned at the mockingbird making a racket on his veranda. He could feel his wife’s stiffness next to him. He didn’t even have to look to see her wide, sleepless eyes locked on a crack in the ceiling for fear of the dreams that might come back if she closed them.
In the nearby barracks, a soldier snored on in thick oblivion. Soon his comrades would wake up to wicked hangovers, a usual Sunday morning experience. Things were always quiet on the Jewish Sabbath, so Saturdays became party time for the Roman soldiers.
Out in the courtyard, roosters crowed, and Peter, curled up next to a stone wall, was sure he heard every last one of them. He hadn’t been sleeping, either. All those great plans and dreams for himself and his nation had vanished with three denials and two rooster crows. Roosters had been rattling and cackling in his brain for two nights. They wouldn’t let him sleep, and they wouldn’t let him forget that look on the Savior’s face that left him frozen in his betrayal.
On the edge of town, three women made their way quietly through abandoned narrow streets, clutching vials of sweet-smelling perfume. In the hazy light of early morning, they were headed for Joseph’s garden, where the remains of the man they pinned their hopes on as the Son of God laid without proper respect. There had been no time on Friday to anoint the funeral wrappings, and such activity was forbidden on the Sabbath. Nicodemus and Joseph had done a credible job with limited time and little preparation, but it fell to the women to complete the burial requirements – as much for their own sake as for the sake of the custom.
Just when they started to wonder who might help them move the huge stone over the face of the tomb, they found, lo and behold, that the stone had already been moved away. The soldiers guarding it shifted on the ground in a deep sleep; the wrappings that should have been around the body lay limply on the rocky shelf inside. And an angelic being, bright and glorious, asked a question that would change them and the world forever: “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”
May your Easter celebrations be filled with the same joy and wonder these women experienced on that first Easter morning!
Purpose Driven Life Archives
But I did happen to post something on my xanga site which is mainly subscribed to by friends from my church (psh, xanga) so I'll just link it up here, in case some of you were ever interested ;p
Wooo! Kat got me onto Sufjan Stevens. And then I went to the Asthmatic Kitten label website, that he and others also produced and OMG! Amazing! Sufjan is amazing and so are the other artists! They've got free mp3 downloads on the site!
Half-handed Cloud <--those guys are very kooky. go to their website, I literally laughed out loud!
Castanets <--they've got a sweet song there in "Three Days Four Nights",
Haven't heard much else yet but will do very shortly.
But the best thing is that the cd's on their own site are dirt cheap! And they ship to Canada on one shipping cost! Woot!
So if anyone else is needing a new music dose!
Hey let me know if anyone else is interested in getting cd's. We should get them together so there's only one shipping cost! (ie. student budget!!) And then we can swap music too! I'm eyeballing Sufjan Stevens' "Michigan" and Half-handed Cloud's "Halos and Lassos"
Thanks Kat!
Oh man! I want a warm and snuggly Cowichan sweater now! But they're sooo expensive...*sigh*
They're supposed to last years and years if you take care of them really well. Hahaha, I like how on the website, they're like "Some people have passed their Cowichan Sweater on to their children for many more years of warm and comfortable use". That sounds so adorable.
Don't feel like explaining much right now. Pray for me.
Will explain later.
~~~
Oh no! Don't be scared for my guys! I should've included some smiley faces or something! =P I'm scared for me, but it doesn't mean I want you guys to be scared or worried too! To me, prayer is for everything! =) It makes me feel good inside. Thanks for everyone's support! =) =) =)
All weekend I have been putting off writing this letter to you. It is now Sunday afternoon and I know it is now or never. I am certain by now that you have heard that I am leaving ( have left ) Prince of Wales Mini School. This was a difficult decision to make and I regret especially that is has come mid-year.
I don’t know about you, but I find that most big changes hold a certain amount of excitement and also of sadness. My first day at PW Mini was in September of 1993 when I was given the opportunity to substitute from September till January, for a science teacher on maternity leave. This opportunity was a wonderful gift to me as I had recently resigned my position as pastor of a church at Granville and 49th. My children were aged 7 and 9 and my wife and I had purchased a home just five years earlier. It was a real gift to have this position that would offer some stability to my family. It was also a bit unnerving teaching such bright and motivated students. Very early on I learned to admit that I certainly didn’t have ALL the answers. However I enjoyed getting to know the students and their families. The school program and the wide variety of activities helped fill the void that leaving my last position had left. In January the regular teacher returned to the Mini and I was off once again.
My wife and I moved our family to the White Rock area that summer and my wife took a teaching position near our home. In the fall, I was offered a full time teaching position at the Mini. Although it was far from home, I could get there in about 35 minutes and was excited about the opportunity. I have many fond memories of trips, science fairs, plays, Arts Nights, BizBaz etc. etc. Not having any family in the city I recall flying my wife’s mother from Winnipeg at least twice a year....during Strathcona and Blackcomb, so she could help out with our children. I vividly remember bringing Martha to the first school dance I had to chaperone....she was about 10 and was bursting with excitement to be able to come to a big kids dance. But when she heard the music and saw how big the kids really were, she was too timid to go into the gym and instead worked with me in the science lab. Over the years my family enjoyed many Arts Nights, Winter Family Suppers and June Picnics.
In 1998, I took a leave of absence and was offered a teaching position near my home. I certainly missed the PW Mini community but wanted to be nearer my home as even then the commute was growing longer. During that time there was a great deal of unrest in the Mini and a conflict situation arose that didn’t seem to have any easy answer. In June the Principal called me to see if I would be willing to come back as Head Teacher. Parents and students called me encourage me to take the offer. Against the wishes of my wife, I did return to the Mini. Since then I have served as Head Teacher and have enjoyed at least 99% of my duties. I have been enriched by the interactions I’ve had with students and I’ve appreciated the support and encouragement that came from so many parents. Seeing so many students develop from grades 8 to 12, I have come to appreciate the phases teenagers go through during these formative years. I am motivated when I see the excitement of the grade 8’s; I watch with interest as the grade 9’s start to develop a sense of their own identity; I wrestle with the grade 10’s as they assert their independence and test boundaries; I am relieved when the grade 11’s step up to the plate with an adult sense of responsibility and I am rewarded to be able interact with the grade 12’s as they seem more like friends than students.
I have so many fond memories of this school. I love the students in this school, I appreciate the parents in this school, I will miss the staff in this school ...but I know in the depths of my being that for the sake of my family and my own health and wellness, I need to make this change of location. I am reminded of a farmer who sat in front of his barn when a stranger came along and said, “ How’s the cotton coming?”
“I don’t have any,” the farmer answers. “ I didn’t plant any because I’m afraid of the boll weevil.” “ Well, how’s your corn then?” the question came. “ I didn’t plant any....afraid of drought.” the farmer responded. “ How about your potatoes then ? “ came the next query. “ Don’t have any,” the farmer answered “ Afraid of potato bugs.” Finally the stranger said, “ Well what did you plant?” “ Nothing,” answered the farmer. “ I just played it safe.” I am making this change with some uneasiness and sadness....but I don’t ever want to get the point where I do nothing and just play it safe. I suspect that I am like the frog who went to see a fortune teller to see what the future had in store for him. The fortune teller gazed into her crystal ball and said, “ A beautiful young woman is going to come into your life. She will find you fascinating. She will want to get close to you! She will want to know everything about you.” The frog was quite excited by this.
“ Where will this take place ?” he asked. “ In her Biology class,” the fortune teller replied. Clearly the frog was in for a big disappointment. Although I know I will regret my decision in the short term....or maybe even till all of the present Mini students graduate....I do hope for other challenges as I begin teaching at Enver Creek Secondary School in Surrey. I know it will never be like PW Mini School, but I hope I can have some positive influence in the lives of students there.
Thank you for everything you have done to make my time at PW Mini such a memorable and rich experience. Thank you students for your openness, your understanding, your willingness to push yourselves each and every day, your sense of humor...but most of all for willingness to befriend an old guy like me in his thirties! I wish you all every success and I look forward to hearing about your many successes in the future.
Sincerely,
Andrew Kinnear
akinnear@telus.net
My house smells like toast and peanut butter.
The harder things are, the more rewarding.
- Mood:
peaceful - Music:Switchfoot is playing
I tend to mull over things a lot. And I AM SO APPRECIATING my Arts degree now. And some friends who have helped push me in the right directions. Namely all of you! Hmm, let's see, what have I learned? To question everything! See everything from a different perspective. *sigh* That's bliss for me.
Sometimes we just get so trapped in one view of things. Like the frog in the well my mom always reminds me of in a Chinese proverb. About how the frog looks up and sees just that circle of sky above its head, and thinks that's the world. But now my education has just taken that bit of sky and exploded it into the entire solar system.
I have to say I owe bliss to combined school and church-going though. Not only do I question everything, but I've been learning to reevaluate the way I live my life. It's amazing. Because it's true. We've grown up used to the familiar and unchanging. We think what we know is truth. And we hold on to that so tightly, picture a kid with a safety blanket. And all of a sudden that blanket is torn from our grasp, and we cry at first because learning hurts.
But then you learn that everyone lives and does things differently. You have to get inside their shoes to really understand them. To have compassion for them.
Different ways of looking at things
There are always two ways of looking at things. (Sometimes you could argue a third, but that's a different story). You could look at something and see destruction and it would all be decamated before your eyes.
Or you could approach it with love and instead healing happens.
On Pain and Suffering
One person feels pain and undergoes suffering. The natural thing is to seek comfort. And so she runs to other people. Just to know that she's not alone. And so she passes her suffering onto someone else. From one perspective, this seems cruel. Why share your pain with someone? Isn't that an unfair burden? Why not just keep it to yourself? But if everyone can just take on a bit of the suffering, so that suffering is acknowledged and shared, you can begin to divide the burden by half, then quarters, and eights & etc. And then you can also break down and share the love.
Unfairness
The doubleday doesn't seem fair. You go to work all day and then you come home, and do more unpaid care. All the repition sans recognition could drive someone crazy. But then again what is recognition here as opposed to in heaven?
Why do our parents end up in old folks' homes? Where female senior citizens are especially vulnerable and targetted, robbed, and raped.
On our motives: It doesn't have to be that way
Where does the motivation or pressure come from to be "the best that we can be" at the cost of everything else? The cost of our relationships with others. First, there's a deterioration in the family. They bring you into this world, only so you can leech from them all they're worth and leave them to dry up and die. We don't respect our elders.
Then what?
Why do we all feel complacent just because we don't think we can make a difference? I'm just one person. But if one person can affect one more person and that person leads to the next and the next person leads to the next, somewhere, we'll make the change.
- Mood:
touched - Music:Sigur Rós - ( )
February 1, 2006
Wisdom from a Thirteen-year-old Cancer Patient
By John Fischer
John was thirteen and in treatment for non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. He loved the scriptures and could often be found reading the Bible on his own or having someone else read to him. One night when he was too weak to read, he asked his mother to take over for him where he had left off, in the second chapter of Ephesians. After about halfway through the chapter she decided to ask him what stood out so far, expecting him to come back with the often-quoted verses 8 & 9, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith -- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God -- not by works, so that no one can boast.” But instead he replied, “That workmanship verse…" or verse 10, which reads, "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."
His mother was surprised and asked him why he picked that verse.
"Because God has a purpose for my life."
"How do you see that in this verse?" she asked.
Without hesitation he said, "Because I'm still here. When your work for God is done, you should be happy to go home to heaven."
Think of it. At thirteen with a life-threatening illness, this kid is aware of his purpose in life. It's very simple, as he sees it, and I think he sees it right. If you're alive, there is something God has for you to do. If we are God's creative expression, and part of that expression includes good works that He has already prepared for us to do, then if we are alive, there is more to be discovered and more to be done. When we die, it's only because the work he prepared for us to do has been completed. Time to go home. Really… it's so complicated, it takes a thirteen-year-old to figure it out.
If you are alive, it's for a purpose, because God has something for you to do. And though that purpose will be expressed differently for each one of us, it will include at least five elements in common with all believers. It will include discovering God in our world, growing up in Christ, learning to serve those around us, connecting with others who believe, and with those who don't, in order to share with them the hope Christ has given us.
Are you still here? There's a reason for that; your work isn't done. And by the way, John's still here. He's 25 now. Obviously, he his work to do.
~~~
Purpose Driven Life Archive
- Mood:
content - Music:The Frames-Happy
You know you wanna go! SUWEEEEEEEEEET!
Okily dokily.
Oct 7th
Is BEOWULF AND GRENDEL
I think it got some notice in the Sun so I'm actually thinking of heading down there to the kiosk tomorrow and purchasing those tickets toute de suite, just cause the prospect of a SOLD OUT sign irks me. (Kat did you want me to pick tix up for you too? Anyone else?)
Not that there's time, but I also want to head out to see some shorts. I think there's an Indigenous film on. Don't know the title. Alls y'all have some other films you'll want to see. So I better start saving up the $$$$.
Let me know what you think.
~~~~
I'm staying awake on lollipops. Woot!
- Mood:
sleepy - Music:The Frames-Finally
