Snakes. I hate snakes.

I guess it's fair to say that since I had such high hopes - nay, expectations - for the fourth Indiana Jones movie, I was bound to be disappointed. It was a great action movie, I'll give it that much, but... where was the dialogue? Where was the witty repartee during fight sequences? Where were the comically-placed punches and unexpected kicks? Ok, a couple of scenes made the cut. But... that plot? I won't give anything away, but seriously, George Lucas. That's the best you could come up with? I know you have to find something sort of supernatural, but really? Did you have to take it that far? All in all, it was an entertaining movie, but I guess I just wanted more from what will probably be Harrison Ford's last starring role as Indiana Jones.

Also, one last thing - ok, two: first, I heart Karen Allen. Second, did you have to make Shia Laboeuf or however you spell his name look so damn greasy? I mean, I know he's a sleazeball and all, but come on now. Ok, one more thing. Casting Cate Blanchett as the villain - GENIUS. But the next time you make an Indy movie, can you make the lead a little bit more... Indy-like? And the movie a little bit more... good? I know Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade good is asking a little much, but I'm just saying - next time you may want to - dare I say it? (and yes, I do, because it's exactly the kind of joke 1957 Indy would say) - crack the whip a little harder on your writers.

And we're off!

As I was leaving the movie theater at 9:30 tonight after seeing Iron Man, I thought two things: 1)man, I can't believe it's only dusk, and 2)damn, John Favreau, way to make an action flick. And a kid-friendly action flick, at that. I mean, aside from the explosions and guns that are pretty much (and sadly) obligatory in any movie that wants to make money, there wasn't much I'd need to keep from a kid over a reasonable age. I know Sam Raimi is like a comic-book-turned-movie god, but he could seriously take a few pointers from John Favreau. Like, less is more. Or, write a good script. Or, cast real actors (four Oscar nominees, anyone?) I mean, really, man. Take Jeff Bridges, for example. I could watch Jeff Bridges just sit in a chair for two hours. I bet he could act the shit out of that. Anyways, needless to say, I liked the movie. And if Iron Man is any indication of the kind of stuff we can expect this summer (which I hope to God it is), we are in for one hell of a blockbuster season. Indy, Batman, Sex and the City (which I'm becoming less and less enamored with), the Hulk (I hear Tony Stark makes an appearance, which is awesome)... so many movies! So much potential for generic, over-acted crap. Let's hope the other directors can pull it off as seemingly effortlessly as John Favreau.

Just one last thing, and it's half complaint, half John Favreau exaltation. Could you have at least played the song once?! Just once, in the whole movie, even for the credits. You started, but we didn't even get to hear the whole thing. However, I must commend you on not playing it the first time we see Tony Stark in the suit, stomping his way through the - ok, I won't spoil it. It would have been an awesome shot, but everyone would have expected it.

So, in conclusion, please go see the movie and support people who actually know what they're doing.

Tomorrow I'm off to Giverny with Smith to try to get some work done. Maybe the change from the sterile white walls that surround me in my apartment will somehow make me more productive. Because, really, if I don't finish this paper soon, I'm going to seriously go batshit crazy.

Also, my mom just said "love you muchly." I love my mom.

I drink your milkshake.

I just got back from seeing There Will Be Blood (finally!), and damn, I forgot how much I love movies. Ok, that's not true. I think about movies all the time - in class, while eating, and especially on the metro. But that movie... It just reminds you what a movie's supposed to be, you know? At the end of it I was like, "oh right! I remember now." It just really made me love movies. And want to write (ta-dah!). I do have to say, all of the big movies this year have done that to me, but I guess because it's been such a long time since I've seen a movie in the theater (more than a month, I think - relatively, that's like Kate Moss going three days without cocaine), it affected me more. I don't even know where to start with Daniel Day-Lewis. I mean, really. Why isn't he in every movie ever made? I sincerely believe that if he had been cast in the title role, Bubble Boy would have done some serious damage at the Oscars. And he seems like such a good guy, too. Intense, for sure, and I definitely wouldn't want to piss him off in a bar, but also humble, kind, and extremely talented. Seriously, the guy's a cobbler. An attractive straight man who makes shoes? Wrap him up in a pretty pink bow and deliver him, please. And Paul Dano - even though he screams like a girl/tortured pig and creeps the living shit out of me - is amazing. Why did it take me so long to see this movie? Oh yeah, because I signed my soul away to academia. Got it.

I've really been making the rounds this week. I saw two plays - one really great, the other extremely mediocre. Wednesday was a three-hour-plus marathon of Les Ephemères, directed by the legendary Arianne Mouchkine, who is the least theater-looking person I've ever seen in my life. The play was very modern: a series of short scenes with some overlapping characters, all about how life is constantly changing, and how in a moment, everything can get flipped upside down. Trite much? Yes. But it was beautifully directed, and the scenes were very touching. I think I'm going back next weekend to catch the second half. I know, put together that's a whopping seven hours of theater. But what can I say? I'm just that dedicated. The next night was this adaptation of Henry IV, which really didn't hold my attention much. I guess it didn't help that I hadn't read the text, but it just wasn't a great show. It reeked of pretension, and after going to a discussion with the director today, I understand why. She's one of those theatre people. She hates television and thinks it's the downfall of society. She "hates" elitism but said that the students at the discussion were in a different class than her own students at a different university in Paris. Oh, bite me. She talked about how she hates it when people come to the theatre to see whatever "star" is in the play, instead of the play itself, but not five minutes later spoke about plans of doing a show with Dominique Pinon (well-known film actor - Amélie, A Very Long Engagement, etc.). Please insert generic rant about French hypocrisy here. And some cuss words. Feel free to use as many "ass clowns" as you'd like. I'm pretty fond of that one.

Also, the weather. What the fucking fuck, Paris? Last week it was sixty degrees and sunny, and people were rollerblading and biking in short sleeves, and I even thought about shaving my legs (if you saw my shower you'd understand why I don't). Now it's like living in a schizophrenic freezer, complete with sub-zero (Celsius) temperatures and ice. But not all the time. And not all day. Just in the morning, when you're walking to the metro and can't get your umbrella open against the wind and tiny kamikaze raindrops attack your face like someone shooting needles through a machine gun, or when you're desperately willing the bus to come so you don't have to walk and your hands feel like - well, they don't feel like anything, because it's so damn cold. So, it seems I blew my load of springtime cheer a little prematurely. But give me fifteen minutes, I'll be back in a jovial mood and ready to go for round two. For real this time.

Lastly, I finally have a flight home! I'll be back in California June 25, just in time for birthday celebrations and graduations galore! Well, I'll have missed the graduations, but my family will all be there and there will be festivities anyways! Exclamation points! So far I'm trying as hard as I can not to focus on the fact that I'll be locked up in the house until August, writing my memoir and feeling bad for not watching as many movies as I'd like to. (I'm still on my quest to watch all of the AFI's top 100 films.) Right now I'm just looking forward to watching a mildly-edited version of Californication on M6, because I've been working my ass off all week and I think I deserve some naked David Duchovny and classic LA scenery. And with that, I bid you adieu, faithful readers. Until the next time I feel so inclined...

Une pause

Well, it's been a while. And the sad part is not much has happened since the 18th.

Every semester there's that week or two where all of a sudden you have mountains of work to do and it seems like you'll never get out alive, and the only hope you have, the only thing that lets you see the light at the end of the tunnel, is knowing that as soon as it's over, you can party, sleep in, or do whatever it is you do to celebrate the end of Hell Week. Well, my friends, my Hell Week has just ended. I had two huge exposés to do on Wednesday, and thankfully, it is now Friday, which means Wednesday - and my exposés - have come and gone and I don't have to read anything more about Haussmann or Don Juan. As yesterday was Toussaint (a Catholic holiday which is also a national holiday here - so much for Church and State, right?), I was really looking forward to sleeping in until who knows when, maybe taking a stroll in the Jardin des Plantes, and generally just chillaxing until ultimately having to start the behemoth of a novel that is "Au Bonheur des Dames." But then I remembered I'd agreed to work on the translation of the play, so I did that for four hours with another girl instead of seeing how long I could spend in bed before I really got sick of staring at the ceiling.

After that, I caught up on Californication and headed out to watch Superbad - Supergrave in French - with some friends. I don't really understand how this works, but the French people laughed more than the Americans. Maybe it was the mistranslation/omission of half of the dialogue (which was kind of interesting to read in subtitles), but the French thought it was hilarious! They didn't get the awkwardness, though, like when that creepy guy goes "Are you Jimmy's brother? Because you look like him. You really do. ..You really do...." or when Evan says "samesies", which is perhaps my favorite line in the movie. Well, no, it isn't, but still funny. Anyways, I just thought it was interesting that a movie that was so blatantly American managed to be a success in France. Especially since they like to pride themselves on the fact that what they do is "art" and what we do is "business." Please. Like France doesn't have rich movie stars and producers? Excuse me - Juliette Binoche, Daniel Auteuil, Guillaume Canet, Vincent Cassel, Monica Belucci, Jean Dujardin, Marillon Cotillard. And need I mention the movies Les Bronzées 3, Taxi 1, 2, and 3, OSS 117, and Camping? Come on, France. Let's be a little more hypocritical, shall we?

So today I'm going to try to clean up my place a little, since an old friend is coming to stay for the weekend. Hopefully my jeans, which I washed two days ago, will be dry by then, along with the towels I still have to wash. I have this weekend all planned out - the perfect first Paris visit. This tour includes, but is not limited to visits to: the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, the Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame, Sacre-Coeur, the Luxembourg Gardens, l'As du Falafel, the Champs-Elysées, and the fashion district. Also included: partying (perhaps on the Seine), and a pub quiz where we will win a bottle of wine like we did last week. But truthfully, the part I'm most looking forward to is the falafel. It's been a month since those golden, crispy balls of chickpeas have entered the vacuum of an orifice that is my mouth, and I'm starting to have withdrawals.

Also, I wanted to talk about the Opera being on strike, but I think just saying it sums up the ridiculousness of the statement. Come on. The fucking OPERA is on strike. An artistic organization, in FRANCE, is on strike. Come the fuck on!