Now, it's time for me to delve a little into the movie critic shoes. I saw The Reader yesterday. I have to say that I love Ralph Fiennes so my view of this movie is biased.
Let's start with the fact that it's been about 24 hours since I've seen it and I still can't stop thinking about it. I see the character's faces, I am revisiting scenes from the movie. It's an amazing film. About love, about life, about the impact strangers can have on our lives.
I love the truthfulness of this film. It's rare these days to find a movie where the end isn't sugar coated. Where people have real faults, and you take them for the way they are and love them your whole life. Ok, that's all I'll say. Go and watch it (on DVD probably).
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Like mother, like daughter or why the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
At the playground today, my daughter was fascinated with a little girl who was wearing a pink snow suit: this super-warm coverage with long sleeves and long pant legs looked like a sumo wrestler outfit on this tiny little girl. On her feet, she had tiny thin little silver ballet-slipper shoes. I thought the snow suit a little excessive for this beautiful 55 degree day and the shoes far too cold.
I made a comment to her and the mom on her "pretty little shoes", which seemed perfectly placed, until I noticed that the mom was wearing an adult version of those same silver ballet shoes with her winter parka. No joke.
Check out this video a friend sent me on the topic.
I made a comment to her and the mom on her "pretty little shoes", which seemed perfectly placed, until I noticed that the mom was wearing an adult version of those same silver ballet shoes with her winter parka. No joke.
Check out this video a friend sent me on the topic.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
3 for 1
Today, I heard of 3 friends losing their jobs. Having myself been layed off 3 times in the last crash (2001), I can offer some useful advise:
1. Don't dispair, don't blame yourself, and don't think that you are contagious. One of the hardest things to accept when you lose your job is that it really was not your fault. Too many other factors combined to cause this issue.
2. Put your resume together and revise it once a week. Don't fix it any more often than that or you'll go crazy.
3. Do 1 job-hunting activity per day. For example, Monday is resume fixing day. Spend 3 hours fixing your resume, sending it to friends for review, etc. Tuesday is Monster.com and LinkedIn day, spend 3 hours on those, searching and saving jobs. Wednesday is apply online day. Thursday is go-to-networking events day (have at least one event per week where you have to get dressed and look like a human being. If you can't afford the admission price, email the organizer and explain that you have just lost your job and whether they can offer a discounted admission rate - most people will). Find something useful to do on Friday.
4. Find a job, some job. Between stints of tech-based employment, I worked at Crate and Barrel. Sure, I didn't use my degree, but I earned enough to make rent AND I got a great kitchen in the process. It'll keep you sane and get you out of the house, talking to people. Just don't forget to keep looking for a real job.
1. Don't dispair, don't blame yourself, and don't think that you are contagious. One of the hardest things to accept when you lose your job is that it really was not your fault. Too many other factors combined to cause this issue.
2. Put your resume together and revise it once a week. Don't fix it any more often than that or you'll go crazy.
3. Do 1 job-hunting activity per day. For example, Monday is resume fixing day. Spend 3 hours fixing your resume, sending it to friends for review, etc. Tuesday is Monster.com and LinkedIn day, spend 3 hours on those, searching and saving jobs. Wednesday is apply online day. Thursday is go-to-networking events day (have at least one event per week where you have to get dressed and look like a human being. If you can't afford the admission price, email the organizer and explain that you have just lost your job and whether they can offer a discounted admission rate - most people will). Find something useful to do on Friday.
4. Find a job, some job. Between stints of tech-based employment, I worked at Crate and Barrel. Sure, I didn't use my degree, but I earned enough to make rent AND I got a great kitchen in the process. It'll keep you sane and get you out of the house, talking to people. Just don't forget to keep looking for a real job.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Did you learn that or were you born with it
I was sitting with my daughter in a mommy and me class when I noticed a peculiar thing. There are kids who sit in the front, there are kids who sit where they were placed and there are kids who go to the back and play with the toys unrelated to the program or lesson.
My kid is the first kind: no matter where I sit in the room, she will go to the "front row", stare at the teacher for 45 minutes of class and soak in every word. She won't look back at me, she knows I'm there. I'm glad she inherited this trait from me, although I wonder if this is a real trait of just a passing phase. I'm glad she didn't inherit her father's class-attending methods - taking a snooze in the back rows.
The most peculiar thing is that I never encouraged or taught her to do this. I never said, "listen to the teacher". So one has to wonder, was she born with it? What happens to the kids who aren't interested in the teacher or the lesson at hand? Do they grow up to be those kids passing notes and texting in the back of the classroom? Do they do poorly in school? Do they reform? Do they learn differently?
If we assume that there are at least 3 different kinds of learners, can we have a one-style-fits-all education system? I wonder.
My kid is the first kind: no matter where I sit in the room, she will go to the "front row", stare at the teacher for 45 minutes of class and soak in every word. She won't look back at me, she knows I'm there. I'm glad she inherited this trait from me, although I wonder if this is a real trait of just a passing phase. I'm glad she didn't inherit her father's class-attending methods - taking a snooze in the back rows.
The most peculiar thing is that I never encouraged or taught her to do this. I never said, "listen to the teacher". So one has to wonder, was she born with it? What happens to the kids who aren't interested in the teacher or the lesson at hand? Do they grow up to be those kids passing notes and texting in the back of the classroom? Do they do poorly in school? Do they reform? Do they learn differently?
If we assume that there are at least 3 different kinds of learners, can we have a one-style-fits-all education system? I wonder.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Family Adventure in the Poconos, Take 2
Several months ago, I wrote about our family adventure in the Poconos. Little did I know that only a few short months later I would be adding a sequel posting.
It's December 24th. We're heading to the Poconos for the Christmas holiday. This is an all day affair - we start at 6am when our daughter gets up. Judiciously pack the car. Leave 1/2 the things we need while driving in the truck and curse ourselves for it all the way to the first rest stop.
Fast forward 6 blissful hours, we've finally arrived at my parents' complex in the Poconos. It's 3pm. We're all cranky. We've been in the car for far longer than is necessary, we're tired, we're cramped, we want to get there already and unpack and rest. We come to the turn for my parents' road and we make 5 attempts to climb the hill. These fail due to a nice cover of ice on the hill right at the turn, covered by a nice thin layer of water mist. Needless to say, this makes conditions rather slippery.
After the 5th attempt, I take my frustration out of the car, grab the shovel that my husband put right at the top of our junk in the trunk (what good foresight!) and start shovelling piles of dirt, slush and ice from the bottom of the hill onto the hill to create 2 tracks for the tires.
You have to imagine this. I am dressed in corduroy pants, in hiking boots which are slippery and not meant for iceclimbing, and a ski jacket that matches neither the hiking boots nor the pants. After 10 minutes, I am splatted in mud, my pants are wet up to my ankles, I am muttering curses under my breath at the association, at our timing and at our stupidity in arriving at this place first. Finally, as I am about to finish this job and we are about to undertake our fist attempt, we see a gravel truck from the association making the rounds. After a little more muttering from me, the truck finally gets around to our section of the road and heads up the hill.
It's now 4pm. We follow. What meets us at the driveway is even less inspiring. The hill there is completely frozen over with a nice layer of ice and there is no gravel or dirt that we can throw. We quickly abandon all hope of getting the car up the hill and park at the culdesack. My husband takes the shovel and makes heads up the hill to try to make a path for us. 5 minutes go by. 10 minutes go by. We start to approach 15 minutes when I start thinking of a contingency plan. What if he'd fallen on the ice and can't get up. I'm in the car, so I won't hear him. It's starting to get dark, so soon enough I won't even be able to see the small path he's managed to crack in the ice. I have a baby with me. Do I leave her in the car, and go by myself or do I take her with me?
Finally, I see the careful descent of his black boots, and I make a mental note to take our walkie talkies in the future when travelling in the winter.
And, so, we make it into the house, we unpack and then my parents arrive and my dad makes it up both hills without much trouble, because, after all, it's not his first ice storm.
It's December 24th. We're heading to the Poconos for the Christmas holiday. This is an all day affair - we start at 6am when our daughter gets up. Judiciously pack the car. Leave 1/2 the things we need while driving in the truck and curse ourselves for it all the way to the first rest stop.
Fast forward 6 blissful hours, we've finally arrived at my parents' complex in the Poconos. It's 3pm. We're all cranky. We've been in the car for far longer than is necessary, we're tired, we're cramped, we want to get there already and unpack and rest. We come to the turn for my parents' road and we make 5 attempts to climb the hill. These fail due to a nice cover of ice on the hill right at the turn, covered by a nice thin layer of water mist. Needless to say, this makes conditions rather slippery.
After the 5th attempt, I take my frustration out of the car, grab the shovel that my husband put right at the top of our junk in the trunk (what good foresight!) and start shovelling piles of dirt, slush and ice from the bottom of the hill onto the hill to create 2 tracks for the tires.
You have to imagine this. I am dressed in corduroy pants, in hiking boots which are slippery and not meant for iceclimbing, and a ski jacket that matches neither the hiking boots nor the pants. After 10 minutes, I am splatted in mud, my pants are wet up to my ankles, I am muttering curses under my breath at the association, at our timing and at our stupidity in arriving at this place first. Finally, as I am about to finish this job and we are about to undertake our fist attempt, we see a gravel truck from the association making the rounds. After a little more muttering from me, the truck finally gets around to our section of the road and heads up the hill.
It's now 4pm. We follow. What meets us at the driveway is even less inspiring. The hill there is completely frozen over with a nice layer of ice and there is no gravel or dirt that we can throw. We quickly abandon all hope of getting the car up the hill and park at the culdesack. My husband takes the shovel and makes heads up the hill to try to make a path for us. 5 minutes go by. 10 minutes go by. We start to approach 15 minutes when I start thinking of a contingency plan. What if he'd fallen on the ice and can't get up. I'm in the car, so I won't hear him. It's starting to get dark, so soon enough I won't even be able to see the small path he's managed to crack in the ice. I have a baby with me. Do I leave her in the car, and go by myself or do I take her with me?
Finally, I see the careful descent of his black boots, and I make a mental note to take our walkie talkies in the future when travelling in the winter.
And, so, we make it into the house, we unpack and then my parents arrive and my dad makes it up both hills without much trouble, because, after all, it's not his first ice storm.
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