Portrait of a Life

Sleeping. Eating. Reading. Working out. Playing with the dogs. Catching up on all the movies. Writing not much of anything. Thinking. Going to doctors—cosmetic, of course. Not shopping. Drifting. Wondering how the hell my life came to this. Boredom.

The excitement factor? None. Tennis lessons. Woo-hoo. Preparing for Italy. Reading 3, 4 books a week and watching all the bad TV my brain can handle.

I suppose I'm in a "funk" cause I really don't want to do anything save for sleep, eat, work out, watch TV/movies and read. If there were shopping, I'd want to do that of course, but the closest Neiman's is about 130 miles away.

Watched Babel last night. Ugh. I know this movie carried a powerful message about gun control and illegal immigration, and Rinko Kikuchi's performance was amazing. (I simply can't imagine novice actor Jennifer Hudson being any better than her.)
However, I just couldn't help thinking a couple of things as I writhed in my chair, wanting it to be over already.
1. Why would a Mexican writer reinforce such negative stereotypes about Mexicans? I mean, Gael Garcia Bernal's character was so idiotic that the Mexican storyline made you want to become a Republican and patrol the borders yourself.

2. Cate Blanchett—though I worship her style—gets an Oscar nod for lying prostate and moaning a few times? And, oh yeah, pissing herself?

3. Again, another movie that just makes you wonder about Muslims. Only this time, Moroccans? Why Morocco? That's the one Muslim nation I've actually always wanted to visit. Couldn't they have picked somewhere truly evil like Syria or Lebanon? I mean, I know why—b/c Morocco is not neccessarily a terrorist haven so they wanted to illustrate the point that even though the shooting was not terrorist related the international media automatically assumed this. But still.

4. American tourists are just idiots when they are in a truly foreign land. Why would they be on a tour bus ostensibly in the middle of nowhere? Tell me that. And without one cell phone between the entire group? Please. Now mom and dad understand my penchant for first-class travel.

My brother, on the other hand, is, as I type this literally in the backwaters of India with no means of communication. So as Cate was suffering in the mud hut, I kept thinking, "There's my brother. God forbid he gets hurt. He's miles away from civilization; probably does not have the number of the American Embassy or a first-aid kit, etc. Why on earth do people travel like this?

Anyway, this movie made me really mad. Maybe that's the point, but I'm certainly glad it did not win best picture.

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