Monday, Apr. 01, 2002 / 8:31 p.m.

~More of the Same Really~

I stayed up late last night watching "The Pledge", Sean Penn's movie about a cop who, upon retirement, gets involved in one last case, promising the parents of a murdered 8 year old girl that he will find the killer. The cop is played by Jack Nicholson. This was one of those movies that I watch in spite of myself. I watch it and find myself asking, "Why am I watching this?!", but I keep watching. I don't even know that I can say it was a good movie or a bad movie, but it was unpleasant to watch. The setting is a lake town, could be Pacific Northwest, or north California, I couldn't tell, but it's gray mostly, sort of dreary, and the people are all without makeup, without color in their faces. Everyone looks sort of ugly, worn and tired.

And Jack is old now. To watch him rub his brow, the furrows above it, look into those shrunken eyes, for some extended period, is not exactly entertaining. What was Sean Penn aiming for in his direction? Did anyone see this movie? Anyone at all? It wasn't exactly a hit when it came out last year, or the year before. Robin Wright Penn is in it as well, Sean's wife, and she looks horrible, really, and her lines seem ad-libbed.

Oh, the story was captivating enough, a potential serial killer on the loose, a killer of 8 year old girls, the retired cop forced to leave the case alone after the main suspect kills himself upon hearing his own forced confession. But Jack knows the killer is still out there and he aims to find him. It's heavy, very heavy, this film, and the ending sucks. Um, I don't recommend it. (But... there are cameos by Vanessa Redgrave, Sam Shepard, Benicio del Toro, and probably somebody else. And the acting of the little girl, the potential next victim, was amazing. And, one more thing, really, there is a very suspenseful sequence, very suspenseful, really well done, but sort of horrific, gut wrenching. Despite the look of a low budget, maybe the overall film was good for what it was. I'm still considering it.)

So, anyway, to get away from my mini movie reviews of late, I'm trying to say I woke up tired today. Exhausted really. And work was weird. For the first time since we all got the new computer program on our PCs, it went down. It fucked up. It was there, then it wasn't. Literally. Put in a social, get an error message, down it goes, no record found on this one, no W-2 available, wait five minutes, oh, there it is. Like an April Fool's trick, all day.

Listerine was back, arriving late, leaving early, insisting she's just fine and dandy when worried co-workers asked of her health. I didn't ask. I could see for myself, and part of me thinks it's her own bad Karma biting her in her ass already. I always start to forget, find myself feeling compassion and empathy, then catch myself, remind myself how to feel towards her.

So we talked about racism, religious wars, the state of the world, for a minute or two during one of our down times. I played the bookie and collected more money for the $92 million Big Game jackpot drawing tomorrow. It was slow, then it was busy, then we stood around, I volunteered to leave, the weather was beautiful, but we stayed.

And by the end of the day all I wanted to do was come home and get in bed. But I had to do things, I had to get "feminine products" at Wal Mart. I want to have energy, I want to work a full day, come home and cook and clean, read, sew, knit, watch TV, bathe the kids and help with homework and put them to bed. No, what the fuck is that? I don't have kids, okay, I want to work a full day, come home and cook and clean and read and watch TV, and play on the Internet and still get a good night's sleep. That's impossible. There's no way to do all I wish I could do with only 24 hours in a day, unless I cut out work. Which would be the ultimate, of course.

I started to watch "Ilicit", starring Miss Barbara Stanwyck, and Robert Osborne, on Turner Classic Movies, explained that she was billed as "Miss" back then, then being 1931, but I got bored. I loved her look, the saucy storyline, the free and independent woman who wants to live with her man, or see him regularly anyway, but not get married. I'm sure there's more, but I left the room. I guess not only was I bored, but I wanted to get this over with, this diary thing. For today anyway.

Unwavering, unflagging, that's the kind of energy I want. I want to be a go-getter, one of those people who says she's going to do something and does it. Someone whose closets are always clean, always contain current things, not old crap. Someone on top of it, at all times. Sleeping when it's time to sleep, up with the birds, singing her way through the day. Maybe a lobotomy would help.

Speaking of my brain.... I watched "Jeopardy" for the first time in a long time tonight, and there was a category that blew me away, I swear, my brain couldn't get through it. It involved questions requring one to figure amounts of dollars and coins used to make up certain amounts. I know I'm pretty good at calculating change due me when I'm at a drive thru, or any time I pay with cash, and I never use a calculator to balance my checkbook, yet it's always balanced to the penny, but I couldn't believe when that one guy knew how much 45 quarters is. Seriously. He didn't blink. He clicked his buzzer and said the total, 11 dollars and some cents. Just like that. I was thinking, okay, 45 times 25, let's see, five times five equals 25, carry the two....

But some of the other categories were a breeze. Clearly some difference between left and right brain abilities, and isn't that shit wild? That we have two halves to our brains in the first place, and didn't I read something somewhere about some experiment or procedure involving separating the two halves, in living people?! That would fuck you up.

Makes me think of Hans and Frans. "We're here to FUCK. You UP!!!"

Did you know that "farewell" is the only two syllable word in the English language with no accent? Equal emphasis placed on both syllables. Of course I saw that in some old "Ripley's Believe It Or Not" short film on TCM, right before Osborne began talking about Miss Barbara Stanwcyk. I should be watching that movie. 1931. Amazing it even exists.

I can see me heading straight to bed right now. Very soon.

Oh, by the way, and la dee daaaa too, this was Entry Number Four Hundred. Blech! What a lot of drivel committed to web space. Who knew it would come to this? Not I.

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