Sorry David Morrissey, but you are no Alan Rickman

So I should be working on my five page paper due at nine tomorrow morning. It's past 10:30 at night, and I'm nearly two pages into it. And watching the latest version of Sense and Sensibility. As much as I appreciate Andrew Davies' adaptations of the Jane Austen novels, it doesn't even approach the depth or beauty of Emma Thompson's screenplay or Ang Lee's direction. Or the cinematography! Or Patrick Doyle's score. Or the costuming. The list goes on and on. As good as the 2008 movie is, it still serves mostly to remind me moment by moment and scene by scene of the brilliance of the 1995 version. While the ages of actresses and actors of the later movie may be more accurate, the acting itself rings more true for me in the earlier effort. The foppish, sweet brilliance of Hugh Grant is replaced by just foppishness. The sensibility of Marianne seems merely ignorance and obstinacy. The sense of Elinor may be present, but the anguish of her rejected hopes, or the wisdom or meaning in her eyes are largely absent. The dialogue feels spoken, as if the actors are merely going through the motions to get through each scene. Just compare the scenes where Marianne regrets her behavior to Willoughby, saying she compares it to "what it ought to have been"--she compares it to Elinor's. Just in that speech alone Kate Winslet proves her superiority. Alan Rickman doesn't even need to use words to convey his worth as an actor. Just watch the scene where Marianne thanks him for his efforts in saving her from the rain, and from her resultant fever. His eyebrows soften just a fraction, altering his entire demeanor. W-O-W. And I hate how they treated Mr. Palmer's character. In the 2008 version he was a fool. At least Hugh Laurie had the good sense to be cranky, cringing at his wife's obnoxious loudness, (It kills me every time I even think of the scene where she wrinkles the corner of his newspaper in excitement. His reaction is epic.) but treating Elinor with respect and regard.
So I feel very strongly about "Sense and Sensibility," so sue me! But first, watch about the first five minutes of this scene:
...
Okay, so it's not letting me link it. Just go to Youtube and look up:

Sense And Sensibility - Part 13/14

That shot looking down at Marianne feverish on the bed could be a painting! This isn't a movie, it's a piece of art. And a movie. (And about 3:15 seconds in, it has the eyebrow thing Alan Rickman does that I mentioned earlier. W-O-W once again.) The illness is lightly touched on in the 2008 version. Like it barely affected anything. EVEN THOUGH IT CHANGED EVERYTHING. And what's with Willoughby coming back in the 2008 version? What a freaking tool. And a baby. That was ridiculous.
Now back to my freaking paper about Wuthering Heights. Sorry Rachel, but I much prefer Jane Austen over the Bronte sisters.

IT'S A GIRL!!!!

Updates

Well. I'm pregnant! About 13 weeks. I had my second appointment yesterday and learned that I've dropped ten pounds in less than a month. They even had to use a smaller band to take my blood pressure with--I didn't know whether I should be flattered or mortified! They put me on anti-nausea medication last time, but it didn't work, but I'm trying it again with another medication. Some days I can't keep anything down, and other days I feel *almost* normal. And whoever called it "morning" sickness is delusional. And I hate them.
We've got pictures from the first ultrasound, and Shawn recorded the baby's heartbeat yesterday, but we'll see if I get around to posting them on my blog. I'm so behind in homework and stuff (hey, YOU try painting with smelly oils! Whenever I catch a whiff of it, a wave of nausea hits hard), it's embarrassing. All I can do most days is lay down on my futon and watch TV from my laptop, and try not to throw up from even THAT exertion. I'm starting to get dizzy/weak spells, too. Haven't fainted yet, though, which is nice. Yeesh. And I average about an hour late every morning to work. Luckily my boss is super understanding about it, and we forward the phone to another secretary until I get in.

Oh, and I also learned that I have a heart murmur. And I guess it runs in the family. My mom claims she told us, but I would've remembered something like that.

I'd share my entertaining vomit stories, but I wouldn't want to gross you guys out. Unless you want me to! Just let me know :-)

That's why I ride a bike! (Name that movie!)

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2009/07/19/technology/20090719-driving-game.html

So THIS game really freaked me out as to the real dangers of texting while driving. While I know texting while driving is stupid, and I wouldn't do it, this game gets rid of any lingering temptations to get in a quick text message, even if I'm at a stop light.

Even if I DID do better than average! ;-)

http://www.museumofconceptualart.com/accomplished/

Talk about (mostly) depressing!

And ANOTHER thing!

So these past couple of weeks have been fraught with season finales. Here are my thoughts on a couple of them.

I really like Life on Mars. I love the characters, the storyline works, and the chemistry between No Nuts and Sam is great (except when he kept going for other girls, the idiot). Gretchen Mol's No Nuts is one of the most likeable and yet uncontrived characters I've seen on TV. I want to be her!

But then... Came then...

(Anyone?) Yeah. They COMPLETELY ruined the entire show, and all it took was the last five minutes of the episode. I came away angry and annoyed and betrayed. Clues all along the way, my foot. They throw you a treat, you bite, and the hook sinks right into your cheek. Grrr!!!! I don't want to give it away for anyone who hasn't seen it. I just wanted to let you know it Royally Sucked. Capitalized.

The other show I wish to address is, "Life." I honestly don't care all that much for that show. I just really really like Damien Lewis, even though his character can be a little annoying at times. My favorite character on the show is Ted, the excon for corporate embezzling that lives with Detective Crews until he gets back on his feet. It was because I liked him so much I went back and looked for other shows he had been on, and proceeded to watch the first season of Chicago Hope. THAT'S how likeable a character he was. Anyway, the point is the show was a little better than mediocre, but the season finale ROCKED!!!! One punch to the throat, and the problems of a thousand people are gone in an instant. Good jorb, Life writers! I may have gasped then giggled. And THAT my friends, is how you end a show.

I now declare this bridge open!

I got a full ride scholarship for Spring and Summer! Which means I can EASILY graduate fall semester (having to take only 6.5 credits if need be, but there are a couple of other classes I REALLY want to take *cough like aqueous media cough* so 12.5 it is). I'm taking bookbinding Spring semester! I... cannot... wait... words... cannot... describe... how... excited... I am... but... perhaps... these... ellipses... can... GOSH in the Relief Society newsletter a couple of Sundays ago THE ENTIRE THING was written in fragmented sentences separated only by ellipses. I honestly could not finish reading it it aggravated the nerves so much.

I'm listening to The Prestige right now on tape. I swear that's the only thing that has gotten me through some of my classes the past week. I'm so burnt out! Burned out...? Dreamt is a great word.

Our garden is really starting to come along! We have our little peat moss pod things precariously balanced on the top shelf of Shawn's desk. They get me all sorts of excited when I see them. I think gardening is in my top two or three activities I find the most completely satisfying and enjoyable. The other two (four?) are probably painting/drawing and sewing/knitting. So creating, if you want to condense them all down to just one.

Cleaning one's house spotless is incredibly satisfying, but enjoyable it is not. In case you were confused on the matter.

I can't wait for the semester to be done. Eight classes (even though they weren't simultaneous) is enough to kill anyone! Or at least me. I had my last figure drawing class today. Whew! My teacher said I'll probably get an A- in the class, which is a relief. I had no idea how much I truly sucked at drawing scantily clad people until I took that class. It didn't help that it was a once a week, five hour class. I can and usually do work on my art projects 6-10 hours straight at a time, without hesitation or dread. But there is something about that class, knowing there is no escape for five hours, and having to sit in such an awkward position (my shoulders are thrust forward, putting pressure on my chest) that gets my anxiety freaking out within an hour or two. Imagine an asthma attack combined with a heart attack (not that I've ever had either, but it's got to feel someone like that), and that's how my chest feels during that class. Thankfully, my teacher zipped through the final review of each of our sketchpads (and woo hoo, didn't even bother to look at our sketchbooks which we were supposed to fill up... I may have only "filled up" like 20 pages...) so I was done two hours early. I stayed a little longer to draw, but even with listening to the blessed words of The Prestige, I couldn't handle it any more, packed up my stuff, went home, crawled into bed and watched Bones on my lap top. Stupid show, but it gets the job done when you need to turn your mind off and unwind. I still have so many projects to work on, but it's nice to be done with at least one class this early.

Now if I could only find the time to clean my house again. Did I mention I spent nine hours two Saturdays ago cleaning it spotless? Yeah. That serenity (great movie!!) and cleanliness lasted less than a week. And is now worse than it was before I cleaned it. Sick sick sick sick sick.

Oh yeah! I GOT BANGS! AND I LOVE THEM! They're slightly side-swept, and now when I catch my reflection in windows and the like, I think "hm!" instead of "OHMYGOSHWHY DIDN'TANYBODYTELLME!!" And I've dried my hair nearly every morning since. Huge improvement when I would maybe dry it once a week. Maybe. Thank God for small pick-me-ups like a short fringe of hair across one's forehead.