The New Year Approaches.

Thinking about what I don't want to stay as it is in 2012. This last year has been a mixture of soaring highs and bottomless lows. I don't want to live on a flat plain, but the lows were too drawn out and deep this last year.
The next twelve months may have to be ones to get through and make the most of as commitments mean certain things cannot be changed, but that makes me determined to organise soul building events and to build a positive attitude.
Changes could be big. I'm pre-menopausal and in some ways I'm excited to emerge as a different woman entering a new stage of my life. There are new possibilities and a different attitude to life ahead and I'm looking forward to finding them out. I've been concerned that this will mean I can't do certain things, like the dance I do, but then, another type of dance will take its place at some point and that's okay.
And peace. Hopefully there will be some peace. But for that, changes have to be made and they will be, just not yet, I think.
Waffling again. I need to think. New way of working and living. I can make changes for the better there. It's a start.

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Have to say, came into this biased after hearing some not so complimentary things about working with Wes Anderson. However, I haven't worked with Wes Anderson, so that is someone else's experience, someone I respect, but not my direct opinion.
So, coming in slightly biased.
I immediately enjoyed it, the script, direction, art direction, editing, performances. Loved Steve Zissou lighting a cigarette when his stranger son turns up and the way it/the match burned. Angelica Houston, always a joy. And Owen Wilson, not as actor I usually like, was excellent as Steve's son. Certain roles are made for Bill Murray. I need say no more.
Loved the ship and how we were shown the different rooms, the antique look and the fact that it was eccentric. And the voice over.
The hiatus moments as the scene turned. The irrationality of characters and their emotion and others for their restrained emotion.
And then on another note, what it raises in us, the viewer. The urge for adventure, for spontaneity, for being part of a team with a common cause (this has cropped up a lot this year) following your dream and keeping that sense of awe, respect, appreciation.
The team. Loved the shot of everyone in the submarine and the little sign, 'No more than six people..' and there were about ten. Moments like this are shot through the film.

Where the film slightly lost my attention was with the pirates. Although the camera didn't linger on anyone shot or hurt and injuries didn't seem as bad as you would have thought, keeping that surreal feel, people were shot, I'm not going to give away the plot, so bear with me, but this section didn't hold my attention in the way the rest of the film did and this section took up a vast chunk.And this wasn't a gaping objection, merely a slight dip.
However, it was the device that brought all parts together, it was set up well, 'Don't take us into unprotected waters....' These hints worked as part of the humour rather than sledge hammer signposts. The quick delivery, although given to us more than once, were part of the film's remit.

The Life Aquatic isn't my favourite film of all time, but for much of it, I will watch again and probably find things I missed on the first viewing.

Explanations

"What has what 'they' think got to do with my life? They'll think what they like whatever you do and some might be right and some might be wrong. But they can't know because nobody lives inside your skin but you.
In the last resort you're on your own. Nobody knows but you. It's you who makes the decisions and lives with them.....
....So am I expecting approval for what I'm going to do? Do I send a memo round explaining, so I won't be misjudged? And if I do and manage to get it all down accurately, will they understand then?'
Stan Barstow.

I know, I know, I'm quoting someone else, but I want to. I was asked to justify myself at the weekend. No.

The Monster Belt

Here's a first stab at the synopsis of Monster Belt:
There are caverns in everyone's head where monsters lurk. And there's a belt between two latitudes in the Northern Hemisphere where flesh and blood monsters exist.

Harris White needs to find the monster that killed his best friend over ten years ago. Two twelve year old boys, out boating as they did every day off the Balearic island of Formentera, drinking a couple of bottles of San Miguel, dive into the cool water. Jonah disappears and Harris stares into the large dark eye of the monster that has taken him.

Jane Clark lives in Hawksmoor, West Yorkshire, the central point of the Monster Belt and home to the annual Monster Convention. She dreams of being killed by large spiked hair curlers and strives to work in London. Fresh from university, the job market is bleak and she agrees to accompany Harris on his quest of the Belt.

What bonds them is the disappearance of a young boy in the local lake called The Mere. Legend has it that a monster lurks there; the Mere Monster. Jane doesn't believe in monsters, Harris believes that is all that makes up the world.

Harris grows increasingly preoccupied and frustrated that Jonah's killer will not show itself and unsettled by his withdrawal, Jane's inner demon can no longer be ignored. Bother their monsters are close to home but they are lodged where least expected.

Returning the following year to Hawksmoor for the next convention, the perpetual downpour floods the rivers which pour down into the Mere, saturating the marshland and as the water floods into the valley, cutting off the Bunkhouse Hotel where the convention visitors await rescue and Harris and Jane sit marooned on the roof, deciding whether or not to jump into the murky water and risk confronting the Mere Monster.

And the real test is how we confront the monster within.

Driving

I drove over to Ilkley in Yorkshire this evening to pick up my mother. Re-reading that, it sounds funny, but I'm not going to re-write. Set off about half past six, quarter to seven. I came off the M60/62 and headed on the M66 Bury-Colne-Skipton route. I love the spectacle of Saddleworth Moor high on the tops, but this way, the Colne direction, I enter Yorkshire through the quiet way in. The hills spread almost immediately beyond the towns and you sense very soon that the countryside is nearby.
The sunset tonight glowed to my left and then behind. Deep rose flushed with warmth. And as Addingham and Ilkley loomed, Beamsley Beacon and the moors and tree tops lay tinged in a golden pink glow as the sky began to darken and the sun dipped behind the horizon as at a private bonfire.
The air smelt clean and of straw. I know what I mean by that! A tractor ploughed late. Three horses, sheep grazing, cows, heads down nuzzling grass.
It was a good drive. It felt like home.