The Eleventh New Year Post (Or, Mr. Robinson & A Crazy Ride)
My dinner today consisted of an apple, a slice of coffee cheesecake from Starbucks, and an ice cream cone from Anderson's. Boy, am I hungry now.
On the way home from seeing Ray tonight, I had the misfortune of getting a cab driver who was almost certifiably insane. He treated his Mercedes cab like Speed Racer's, well, racer. He sped up to ridiculous levels, sometimes travelling at 180% of the limit, and on top of that, he was rough, reckless, and the ride was bumpy as hell. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the fact that he was chatting to a friend on his fuckin' walkie talkie the entire time. I held on tightly to my backpack like it was a life preserver. Luckily it was a short ride or I most probably would've gotten carsick.
But anyhow, back to Ray. The hype is true, Jamie Foxx is Ray Charles. And the actress playing his mother is really good. But apart from them and the musical numbers, there really isn't much that's amazing about this movie. Annoying flashbacks, cheap psychoanalyses, and silly cold turkey scenes just let everything down. There's only so many montages of a man's accomplishments we can take. Yeah, the man lost his little brother, but it feels really cheap when the movie tries to use that as a justification for his heroin addiction. I mean, people don't really need a reason to be a junkie, or even if they do, it can't just be simplified into one little nicely-packed traumatic episode.
Still, it was OK, I guess.
Moving on, I saw my old senior medic on the MRT the other day. He's still working at the camp I was posted to. The moment he saw me board the train, he smacked his forehead and said, "I just had to run into you today." He then proceeded to tell me about his shitty day.
Well, I can't really repeat what he said, since it's all classified shit. But suffice to say that when you're in the medical line, you basically don't want to have a shitty day at work because, well, lives are in the balance and all.
It brought back memories of my past escapades in that hellhole (it wasn't really that bad, it's just a very depressing place). Some of them fond. Well, actually when you look back, even the shit seems somewhat amusing. Stuff like pricking my finger to test if a machine was reading blood glucose levels accurately, because a patient's readings were off the scale. Shit like that.
I guess at the end of the day, I'm just glad I'm not in a profession where other people's lives are at stake. It's a lot of responsibility, and when something does fuck up, you really don't want to have to have someone's blood on your hands.
So yay for entertainment. Nothing really matters here.
On the way home from seeing Ray tonight, I had the misfortune of getting a cab driver who was almost certifiably insane. He treated his Mercedes cab like Speed Racer's, well, racer. He sped up to ridiculous levels, sometimes travelling at 180% of the limit, and on top of that, he was rough, reckless, and the ride was bumpy as hell. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the fact that he was chatting to a friend on his fuckin' walkie talkie the entire time. I held on tightly to my backpack like it was a life preserver. Luckily it was a short ride or I most probably would've gotten carsick.
But anyhow, back to Ray. The hype is true, Jamie Foxx is Ray Charles. And the actress playing his mother is really good. But apart from them and the musical numbers, there really isn't much that's amazing about this movie. Annoying flashbacks, cheap psychoanalyses, and silly cold turkey scenes just let everything down. There's only so many montages of a man's accomplishments we can take. Yeah, the man lost his little brother, but it feels really cheap when the movie tries to use that as a justification for his heroin addiction. I mean, people don't really need a reason to be a junkie, or even if they do, it can't just be simplified into one little nicely-packed traumatic episode.
Still, it was OK, I guess.
Moving on, I saw my old senior medic on the MRT the other day. He's still working at the camp I was posted to. The moment he saw me board the train, he smacked his forehead and said, "I just had to run into you today." He then proceeded to tell me about his shitty day.
Well, I can't really repeat what he said, since it's all classified shit. But suffice to say that when you're in the medical line, you basically don't want to have a shitty day at work because, well, lives are in the balance and all.
It brought back memories of my past escapades in that hellhole (it wasn't really that bad, it's just a very depressing place). Some of them fond. Well, actually when you look back, even the shit seems somewhat amusing. Stuff like pricking my finger to test if a machine was reading blood glucose levels accurately, because a patient's readings were off the scale. Shit like that.
I guess at the end of the day, I'm just glad I'm not in a profession where other people's lives are at stake. It's a lot of responsibility, and when something does fuck up, you really don't want to have to have someone's blood on your hands.
So yay for entertainment. Nothing really matters here.
posted by cinewhore @ 12:28 AM
0 mindfucks
0 Comments:
gimme some mindfuckery
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