Monday, November 07, 2005

Friends. Rivals. Sisters.

That is the tagline for In Her Shoes... Were they trying to imitate Mark Antony from Julius Caesar? Shakespeare this is not. I've just sat through two hours of this film at the cinema (under duress), and only my pity for the cleaners stopped me slitting my wrist. I've heard blood stains are difficult to remove at the best of times, cheap cinema carpets would probably be a nightmare. What did I find wrong with the fillum? It has Cameron Diaz, who should have stuck to modelling. It was too long (130mins). There are too many sick bucket moments, "why would anyone want me? I'm fat". That is a sick bucket statement. The dyslexic girl ends up being able to read, all she needed was a bit of encouragement. Puhlease! You know what? The fillum isn't even worthy of my scorn, so I'll save it.

Of greater interest was the blunder of Dogs of War starting and not In Her Shoes. Cue complaining cinema-goers, cue film halted two minutes in, cue apologies and explanations from staff. So as company employees do to compensate customers for such blunders, they break open the glass case and hand out the freebies they'd normally steal for themselves, obviously feeling a pang of benevolence as they rip the free ticket coupons from the booklets. Well, I'm happy for them , but even happier for myself.

I went to a graduation lunch this afternoon. Graduations are one of the most fulfilling events anyone can attend. My graduation was quite possibly the proudest day of my life. I'd put it just below the kind of pride a man feels when his wife gives birth au naturel, sans epidural, sans caesarean. Not that I know how the whole childbirth pride thing feels, but I have a fertile imagination. Our heads of departments called out the names. They were very well practised, because Professor Lister called all five of my (African) names with out choking, biting his tongue, or bringing up the polenta he had for breakfast. The only problem was he took so long calling them that people must thought it was a brief interlude. I came out to a loud roar from my peers, and hugged and kissed our chancellor, Lord Attenborough. He whispered in my ear, "I wish I could pronounce all your beautiful names" (honest). And I think I muttered something like, "I'll only be too happy to teach you, Baron Attenborough. Just send Jeeves round in the Roller, and I'll pop in for a tea-time lesson." Okay, I made up the last bit. But I was so elated, at that moment all my stresses and woes seemed worth it. I won't say late nights studying were worth it, cos I never really did that. But I was proud of my achievements. It didn't matter that I didn't get a first class degree, a second, a third, or a fourth for that matter! I was up there, and my efforts had been acknowledged.

1 comment:

Bébé's History said...

Being a woman and in the medical field, I can tell you that there should be no special pride attached to having a child 'au naturel, sans epidural'
It creates the impression that accepting pain medicine is a sign of weakness; something to be ashamed of.
Having delivered many babies myself and witnessed many more being brought in this world, childbirth is difficult with or without pain relief.
It breaks my heart when I see women suffering, refusing pain relief because they want to live up to other people's ideals. Let's not promote another reason for a woman's insecurity.
I mean this to inform, since you do state that you do not know much about the childbirth thing.
Nevertheless, I enjoy your writing!! :)