Belated Wednesday three.
Movies that have made me think more than once this past week about quitting my job and traveling the world because life is too fucking short to spend 2080 hours a year sitting in a cubicle staring at a computer screen, in no particular order...
One Week: But first, a disclaimer. I am not ashamed to admit that I watched Dawson's Creek back in the day. Not religiously or anything - I mean, it was no My So-Called Life - but enough that I can tell you all about the characters and their intertwined high school dramas. I didn't care for the lot of them in general, because as with The Hills or Glee, WHOSE HIGH SCHOOL LIFE IS LIKE THAT??, but I did have a particular fondness for Joshua Jackson's and Michelle Williams' characters. (And the later addition, Michael Pitt, who has gone on to do some amazing things. Unlike our friend Mr. Dawson.) So I tend to follow those actors and in general, this has served me well. One day when I'm ready for more crime scene investigation shows I might even hop on the Fringe bandwagon.
So anyway, this guy (played by Jackson) unexpectedly finds out that he has mad crazy cancer raging through his body and he will die any minute if it's not treated, or possibly in a few months if it is. (Note: spoilers follow but I suspect I lost you with the DC reference so I have no preconceptions of you actually queuing this film anyway.) He does what any rational person would do - ditches his fiance, buys a motorcycle and heads west across Canada taking pictures with the "world's largest bacon slice," "world's biggest set of false teeth," etc., and so on. And he has some revelations and a love affair and then apparently he does the next thing any rational person would do - gets treatment and survives and writes a book about it.
The point is... Actually, I don't know what the point is. Maybe that's the point. But I liked this movie a lot. I watched it during a break from crisis mode at work and it was helpful perspective. A bit predictable, so take the recommendation with a grain of salt.
Keith: Another disclaimer. I hate that I have seen A Walk to Remember more times than I care to admit, but I have. It's a big reason I didn't subscribe to cable when I moved into my new apartment a year ago (I get sucked into all this sentimental crap! I do not need to watch The Lake House or 13 Going on 30 or In Her Shoes one more time!). Anyway, Keith is at least three times better than AWTR - in a surprisingly refreshing reflection of what high school IS really like, it's a combination of teenage cruelty-meets-teenage superstar-meets-tragic ending in a way we haven't quite seen before. The actors did a fantastic job and the end to this one is also predictable, but I am not ashamed to say that I liked it a lot.
Hesher: A third disclaimer. I will go on the official record to state that I will watch anything Joseph Gordon-Levitt puts his name on from now until eternity. In most cases I will pay money to do so. Hesher, a story involving death and grief and pain, features JGL shirtless for a good portion of the film. As with the other two, I saw the end coming about 10 minutes into it and as I predicted, I didn't like it, but I always hate endings anyway. Oh and also? Rainn Wilson like you have never seen him. I was never a fan but now I am.
And a final disclaimer: it's not just about the movies. My mom has recently shared some pretty nontrivial health issues that are causing her to contemplate how much she wants to invest in herself (lifestyle- and financially-speaking) when in reality, she could die tomorrow regardless of whatever she chooses. Generally speaking I'm okay with the circle of life stuff (and so is she) but between her choking up on the phone telling me, and me feeling guilty for adamantly wanting to be so far away from the east coast, I'm having a hard time with all of this.
On the up side, it makes me want to run that half marathon over July 4th weekend even more than I did before. Two weeks off training and allergy season settling in nicely here in PDX, but tomorrow? Ten miles, here I come. Or at least eight. Eight would be okay.
Ten. Ten-point-five to be exact. Woot!
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