I Can Read Minds, I Just Don’t

Why is it that when people ask you questions, they often don’t want an answer, they just want support? It’s getting to where I have to stop and look at people and ask, “Why did you ask if you did not want to know what I thought? If you want support, tell me you want support, but don’t waylay me with a question and then downplay what I say because you’ve made up your mind you want something specific–something else.”

I can read minds–I’m a mum, for Chrissake. But I don’t like to. It’s impolite.

This concludes my circuitous bitching about some of the stuff happening lately. *makes face*

The last couple days have been crazy. Not in a bad way, more in a “is it a full moon because I’m seeing utter weirdness” sort of way. The weirdness factor has just been through the roof. Tomorrow I’ll focus on correspondence, I swear I will. Today I’m just going to recover. (Assuming we’ve seen the high tide of weirdness, which is not always a fair assumption.)

I’ve also been watching movies at night. Wolverine was…meh. All the complexity and rage of a wonderful character, reduced to flavorless stock footage. Granted, the actors really, really tried–Liev Schreiber is a good Sabertooth, but then I’ve had a thing for him ever since A Walk On The Moon. I could also look at Sweaty!Jackman all day, but that’s just me. I just felt like the actors were struggling with a script that would not do anything but play dead. The Deadpool moments were awesome, though. I love me some Deadpool. I would have loved to see more Gambit, an extended Gambit fight scene, etc.

The other recent movie was Eastern Promises, which is another Cronenberg-Mortensen thang. Cronenberg definitely has a thing for blonde, super-thin, kitten-faced leading ladies (Maria Bello in A History of Violence, which I liked, and Naomi Watts in this movie.) I liked it a great deal, even though Kirill the Psycho Gangster (played by a wonderfully tongue-in-cheek and nutzoid Vincent Cassel) has his Moment of Epiphany a little too late in the movie to really have the ending make sense. Still, Cronenberg didn’t take the easy way out, and Mortensen turns in a scorching, beautiful performance as a sort of decent antihero in an indecent world. This is pretty much his stock in trade, King of Men notwithstanding. Plus, the DVD extras about the tattoos in Russian prisons were pretty awesome, and musecrack to the max. All in all, extraordinarily enjoyable.

Half of today is already gone and I still have mountains to climb. So, a I bid you a civil adieu. Revisions wait for no woman.

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