In which the medical system here does not cause me headaches

So I've been getting these headaches (I've probably told you about them) that I was calling "Half-Migraines" because they were kind of half the pain of a regular migraine only twice the duration (thus essentially working out to be the full amount of pain once you carry the ones).

Except they're not migraines.

The neurologist tells me that they're caused by some kind of problem with my spine alignment/muscle tension/stress (which is all contained neatly in one single German word which I have forgotten now).  Anyway rather than just writing me a prescription for pain relievers and sending me on my way, I got a prescription for pain relievers AND a prescription for a series of massages and a special class to strengthen my back and improve my posture.  Massages and posture class that my insurance will completely pay for.

Granted, I pay for my own insurance as a freelancer, so it's still kind of me paying for these things.  But it's me paying for massages that the system says that I should get to have without feeling like I'm splurging on myself.

Between this and the fact that my doctor is just the nicest lady possible (references available upon request), I'm feeling pretty good about the health care here today.  Of course, that nice lady also said it's been too long (as in not ever since I've lived in Vienna) since I've had regular blood word done, and that I should probably do that as part of a general physical.  So unless there's a new way of drawing blood without using any needles, I might be changing my tune sometime next week.

In which tragedy strikes the Oscars

And no, I'm not just talking about James Franco's "hosting".

My friend S.B. couldn't go watch the Oscar broadcast with me at three in the morning.  It seems that she couldn't get the morning off of work Monday (we wouldn't be finished until about 5:30, remember).  Everyone else I asked had similar commitments Monday morning that they couldn't reschedule for such a Crazy Project.

Now, I didn't mind watching by myself.  But it's a little hard to get out of the house after midnight (in below freezing temperatures) all by yourself.  So my motivation kind of fizzled.

And I stayed home.  And slept through the Oscars.

I didn’t feel too good about it.  But I’m feeling better about it now that the reviews of the show are coming in.  I wasn’t sure exactly what they were going for picking Hathaway and Franco in the first place, but it seems like I sure didn’t miss much.

I still did pretty good on my picks, anyway.  I got 15 out of the 24 right, which is exactly the same score as Roger Ebert.  And that’s a man who knows movies.

But I’m promising myself, that I’ll plan for more back-up for next year.  So book someone good for next year, Academy.  ‘Cause I’ll be watching.

In which I watch other people network socially

Still with me on That Crazy Project?  Well, here comes some Social Network for you.

I liked this movie.  A lot.  Which is funny given how much I do not like facebook (or maybe it makes perfect sense?).

I think they had me from the very first scene.  But didn’t they have everyone?  That’s an excellent trick to hook audiences: make the dialog of your opening scene so lightning fast that they literally have to scoot forward in their seats to try to catch every word.  Very clever Mr. Sorkin.

But then even with that Paying Very Close Attention diligence that I was attempting, I still didn’t get at first that there was some back and forth with flashbacks.  But once I got it, I liked that very much.  I was surprised that the story focused on those lawsuits; I guess I thought the story would be a little broader.  But there’s a lot in this film as it is, and it felt kind of jam-packed, so I’m glad they focused it. 

Mark Zuckerberg sure comes across like a… well, like a complete and total jerk in this thing.  Wow.  If this film is even the tiniest, tiniest little bit true… Then he is not someone I want to know.  But what a great character for a film.

Will it win?  My first instinct when I saw it was: No.  I didn’t think it was the best picture I’d seen.  But the more I read things about the film, the more I think the voters may just give it the award.  I think I’d rather see the King’s Speech get it though.  What about David Fincher?  Well, maybe.  I'd be okay with that.  But my gut (and the stuff I'm reading) tells me that it will probably be Tom Hooper.  And Jesse Eisenberg?  Nope.  While the character is a bad guy – he’s more of a passive bad guy, and that doesn’t really make for an Oscar-winning performance.  The camera work was really nice, so I’m betting on some Best Cinematography for this thing though.

In which I try to do this today

“Be undeniably good.  When people ask me how do you make it in show business or whatever, what I always tell them and nobody ever takes note of it ‘cause it’s not the answer they wanted to hear – what they want to hear is here’s how you get an agent, here’s how you write a script, here’s how you do this – but I always say, ‘Be so good they can’t ignore you.’  If somebody’s thinking, ‘How can I be really good?’, people are going to come to you.  It’s much easier doing it that way than going to cocktail parties.”

–Steve Martin

In which Kings and Fighters duke it out for Oscar glory

The big day is approaching, and I still have a lot of films to see.  It looks like I’m only going to make it for all of the best picture nominees (though that will cover a lot of other categories too).

But in this episode of That Crazy Project, I bring you my thoughts on two of the contenders.

The Fighter was a decent, upstanding film – no doubt a reflection of the decent, upstanding guy that ‘Irish’ Micky Ward is in real life.  But in a film, decent and upstanding are not really… interesting.  It told a nice little story about a scrappy little boxer with a lot of gumption and ‘can-do’ attitude.  But there was zero question of whether or not he would win.  As a story, it’s a dud.

But then there are the supporting characters.  Christian Bale plays Micky’s cracked-out, washed up boxer of a brother.  And you never really knew what he was going to do.  And their mother… Well, she’s a real piece of work.  So it becomes kind of interesting how this plucky little boxer just has his life sort of happen to him.  And it’s funny how in the middle of all the actors working on their Massachusetts accents, Mark Wahlberg’s real MA accent kind of sounds fake.

But really, the film left me with two thoughts:

I do not want to be a boxer.

I do not want to be on crack.

But if boxing is the ‘sport of kings’, let’s talk about kings, shall we? (Segue of the year!*)

The King’s Speech was terrific and really likeable.  It was a moving story – more so than I expected – and also funnier.  Colin Firth did an amazing job with that stutter, and I would really like for Geoffrey Rush’s Lionel Logue to be a friend of mine.  Helena Bonham Carter wore fantastic hats and that little HRH Elizabeth looked just like photos of a young HRH Elizabeth.  As it ended, I actually wanted to stay with them all a little longer and just see them together.

And similarly, it left me with two thoughts:

I do not want to be a king.

I do not want to be a princess (based on the scene after her father’s accession and she has to greet him with a curtsy).

The big questions, of course: Will they win?

The Fighter will probably get a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for Christian Bale’s performance, but I think that’s it.  I think The King’s Speech will get Best Actor for Colin Firth, maybe Original Screenplay, and… maybe Best Picture.  We’ll have to see how the other nominees come out.

* It seems that "The Sport of Kings" can be either boxing or horse racing.  Let's just pretend it's for boxing, 'kay?

In which I eat my words (and other people’s)

I’m a pretty voracious reader. 

Perhaps I have always been.  I know that I read a lot as a kid (references available upon request).  But it all kicked into high gear when I was about fourteen.  For my birthday that year a friend of mine gave me two Agatha Christie mysteries.  I had heard of Christie, I think, but I’d never read any or seen any adaptations on TV.  But I thought, “huh, I like mysteries.” 

I read those books straight, without breaks, and without stopping between them.  And I was seriously hooked.

Soon Agatha Christie became forbidden books.  My parents had to ban them during school weeks, because I would absolutely not do anything but read them.  I wouldn’t stop for dinner or homework or bedtime or school.  I would just read until I found out who done it.  (It was never who I thought it was.  Even after I had considered every suspect.  I always got it wrong.)

Then when I moved to Vienna my relationship with words intensified even further.  See when I first moved here, I didn’t know where to find cheap books in English, I didn’t know where to buy English newspapers (and I didn’t have a television or a computer that would play dvds).  So I was pretty starved for words.  Starved for language.  When I did come across something written in English – an advertisement, an imported copy of Cat Fancy left at a café, anything – I just ate it up.  And I don’t mean dainty nibbling with a knife and fork, I mean tearing it apart with my bare hands and devouring it, sentences smeared all over my face and participles dangling off my chin.

And much like anyone who’s ever gone through a period of poverty or want, I have never forgotten that time.

In which I can't stop with the ridiculous titles

I know, I know.  They're getting old.  But I can't stop.  Everything I think of is in terms of "in which"s.  It's like I'm possessed.  It's some kind of in-whichcraft. 

(I know I shouldn’t encourage them, but that last line makes me chuckle heartily.)