Contrary to Last Night...

And, I was trying so hard to be a skeptic!

Lesser known things about Justin Hudec:

-In a perfect world, I will never order the same item as someone else in my party at a restaurant. I will do everything that I can to be one of the last to order when I am in a group and will always have two different plates in mind just in case someone kypes my first choice.

-As the oldest of four brothers and having the closest brother being the single most stubborn person I know, I've been in my fair share of disagreements. I am nowhere near perfect, but I have considerable training in the art of choosing battles. You will find me passive on the issues where my investment is slim but shaking my head violently against the soft chimes of reason if I have any stake in the matter.

-There is nothing more crucial to comedy than commitment. Brevity, wit, appropriateness... these are the purest of vanities unless you are willing to walk a mile along train tracks wearing Crocs backward as they dig into your Achilles.

All that is to say that I can be stubborn when the kneejerk reaction kicks in. And, when I sat down to watch Shutter Island tonight my knee had already been jerked and I was settling in for two hours of nit-picking. Too many people had given it two thumbs up for me to give it a fair viewing; I was prepared to tell people why they were wrong.

And, for the first half of the film I had a mental list filling up. The cinematography seemed a little contrived and a little more obviously trying to be artsy. The flashbacks were getting a little longer everytime in order to give you more backstory but I still felt like I was being dragged along forceably through the set-up. There were definitely some weird people and events in the first hour but they made me much more uncomfortable than creeped out. Long story short, I had convinced myself that I didn't get it.

Then, the middle half hour begins and the scariness that had been advertised for months finally got cranked to 10. No longer was I uncomfortable, I was grabbing the seat dividers and wishing I had left myself some soda to temporarily pull myself out of the film. At the peak of the horror, as every ounce of your being is afraid of what is around this last turn... the best performance by any of the actors shines on screen. Literally. I want to send the actor who played G***** N**** more money because he was Heath-playing-Joker-esque in his role. Incredible.

At this point in time, my jaw is fixed to the top of my chest from adoring this guy's acting. It stays there through the 45 minutes of the movie as the plot crescendoes and your brain leaks out each of your ears. As your brain matter drips off your earlobes, little smiles from the first half of the movie wave and taunt you and swim laps in the pool of things you should have added up the first time through.

I mention all this for two reason:

1) Go see Shutter Island. I will go with you. I have no hesitations about dropping the price of four or five or twelve movie tickets on this movie. It's that good.

2) I'm getting all this sorted out in my brain so I can explain it to someone. No, not the stuff about the movie. In fact, part of me hates that I liked the film that so many people liked before me. So, I have to explain that along with why it bothers me and with my specific reasons of liking the movie. I'm not just a fanboy or anything, here.

For Beth (And, Really I Mean 'Dear Me')

Attention friends:

As of tonight you are no longer to accompany me to a bar and, after more than one drink has been consumed by this party, ask or proceed to talk about me. After more than one drink has been consumed by Justin, the topic of conversation must be changed to one of the following:

-The weather;
-How boring it is to talk about the weather;
-Places to ski;
-Cheeses made in the state of Vermont;
-Books I have not read before (Note: this is a close violation to the new rule, but the object is to turn the conversation to something which is foreign to me, i.e. a new book);
-Things you can make out of one sheet of 8.5"x11" piece of paper;
-The proper number of times to use a towel before it must be washed;
-The advantages to a Radial coordinate system versus the Cartesian coordinate system;
-Ponderings to if they've changed map's location of sea level and the height of Earth's mountains due to global warming;
-Anything which I should not reasonably be able to steer back towards a discussion on me with one or two well-placed question.

One should note that 'reasonably' is a very subjective word. It is up to the friends present if I have unreasonably or unexpectedly turned the conversation back toward me and if a punishment is in order. I trust you all to be both severe and fair.

---

I am not entirely certain that imposing the above rule is in my favor or yours. Likely both. Apparently my cynical side is slowly blossoming into my cynical psyche. I'd apologize for it, but I'd say there is a strong a chance that you are witnessing the birth of the 'new Justin' as there is a chance of me snapping out of it and reverting back to being one smile pasted on top of the previous one. One way or another, this rule should protect both of us.

Crap. This blog doesn't work. Earlier tonight I perfected a theory that the best blogs are happy blogs. You want to read happy blogs. I want to read happy blogs. The blogs that update once every three weeks with an apology that 'I keep meaning to write more' translate into 'there's nothing happening in life right now' really translates into 'what a sad, sad life I lead'.

Sad blogs are simply passive agressive electronic calls for help and generally arent interesting to write or read. That's why you won't find the words "Sorry, I've been trying to think of stuff to put here" anywhere on my blog: I don't feel good about pressing "Publish" because I don't want you to get bored and close the web browser or get conflicted about what the best electronic means of reaching out to me is.

But this blog... Sad? Happy? Somewhere over the rainbow? Is this blog interestingly depressing or cheerfully cynical?

I've had a lot of fun writing it, I feel good about pressing 'Publish'. Does this mean I've broken the genres of blogging and transcended into a realm untouched by human thought?

I like to think so.

Should Have Spent This Time Reading

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
Wampeters, Foma, & Granfallons by Kurt Vonnegut
Shopgirl by Steve Martin
Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder

What do all of these books have in common?

They've each got bookmarks in them that range from the free, quotation-endorned bookmarks from the cashier at Chapter's to the receipt from my last physical therapy appointment.

That's not really what they have in common but it is a result from the fact that I have started them (one of which for a second read) and not finished yet. The kicker is that I don't really have reason not to finish them. They've each hooked me in their own ways, they're each books that I feel would add to my "books I feel smart talking about" cache... and, they each sat at various places in my house while I was couch bound and wasted my time playing melancholy puzzle games and getting addicted to LOST.

Then, here in my 9/10ths of the way unpacked room, I feel glad that I was too lazy (or, too repeatedly injured) to finish unpacking that last tenth. That's that much work I won't have to do here in a month or so.

Blah. Life. I guess I'll keep going.

I Think I Need More Ginseng

First off: how boring are blogs that start with:

"Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I couldn't think of anything to say..."

Well, that's sort of the case here. Amidst a conversation with one of my roommates this morning, I had the smallest little thought timidly tap on the back of my mind:

"Um, Justin?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"You... you know what Ben's talking about right now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I was thinking... if you think it's a good idea... I have this thought. You could, y'know... expound on it and turn it into a pretty good blog."

"Yeah, totally. Remember it for me, okay?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. But, y'know... that normally doesn't work..."

"That's what she said! Haha! What normally doesn't work?"

"Ha. Good one. Um, remembering little thoughts like this one. They tend to... disappear. Almost as soon as you're done focusing on them."

"No, no. This one's good. I'll totally use it. As soon as we're done talking here. Oh, and I have to answer some emails from work. But, then! Then I promise I'll sit down and write it out. I really like this idea."

And, I did really like that idea. But, then I turned back to my conversation and the little thought dropped his shoulders, hung his head, turned and walked out the backdoor.

The little jerk left the door open, too. 'Cause just a few minutes ago a breeze made me shiver and when I went to close the door I realized that I didn't leave it open. So, now I'm left here scratching my head wondering...

...was it something about my first PT appointment this morning? Something about being on the road to recovery?

... was it something about my surgery? I haven't sat down to write since the hour before leaving for the hospital.

...was it that I hadn't written since the surgery? Was it about the complete lack of productivity that this week has been?

...did it have something to do with LOST? That, along with Dexter and Bioshock and Netflix, is is the reason more than my leg has atrophied over the last two weeks.

...was it about the mandate coming down that we have to move out of this house? No set date or timeframe... but as soon as someone buys it out from under us.

...did it have something to do with realizing how much grace I've received, particularly from my housemates, since my surgery? They have been so good to me.

I don't remember. One thing's for certain: I am growing quickly tired of being an invalid.