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:: Things are little out of whack lately, as I sort through this and that in my life. It happens. I’m spending an inordinate amount of time agonizing over a lecture I’m giving in an engineering design class next Friday, trying to settle on what to highlight in the 50 minutes, and in what order. My house is a mess, and I’ve got a number of small tasks that I keep putting off, like writing a few letters, sending cards, getting some info to my Dad for a painting he’s composing, etc. I know this will sort itself out. Plus, it’s early February, and already I have events scheduled through to October, which for some reason, I find bothersome. No big deal, I suppose.

:: Among the increasing number of annoying catch-phrases and doublespeak that we hear on television and radio, and read in newspapers and magazines, I detest the habit of sportscasters who use an amount of money to describe the time left in a sporting event, when said time left is under two minutes. “Vince Carter, with a “buck twenty-two” left in the game, slam-dunked a decisive basket, leading the Raptors to victory blah blah blah…” Is this usage supposed to be cooler than saying “a minute and twenty-two seconds?”

I’m also weary of reviewers using the word “twee” to describe music or some other art form. Although I must admit I didn’t know that “niminy-piminy” is a synonym for twee. Whatever…

:: Interesting to note that the two entries below with photos of my father in 1945, and my mother in 2004, both feature them with casts on their right arms.

:: I saw The Triplets of Belleville and City of God this weekend, two Oscar-nominated movies. Both are excellent. Triplets is a bizarre, spaced-out 80-minute animated movie about a grandmother and her grandson, who competes in the Tour de France, but is kidnapped by the French Wine Mafia. There is little dialogue, so no subtitles are needed. And the song, “Belleville Rendezvous“, nominated for the Music (Song) Oscar, is infectious and catchy, making you want to start boogeying in your theatre seat.

City of God is about a young Brazilian boy, growing up in the middle of incredibly violent gang warfare, in the slums of Rio de Janeiro in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. His best friend turns to drug dealing, but he resists the criminal life, and instead dreams of becoming a photographer. It is captivating, sad, and compelling, and deserving of its four nominations.

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