Here's to 2018!

Yes, I know, January 3rd is a little late to declare my intentions for 2018, but as always I say, better late than never! (Well, maybe I don't always say that, but I should)

I never really got around to setting out any goals for 2017, I mean, I'm sure I had some, but I didn't write them down, I didn't put them out there into the wide world to help keep me accountable. While 2017 was a pretty good year for me personally, I have a lot of things I'd like to do better in 2018, and I may as well start with making sure I have a record of those things so I can come back and check them next year to see how successful (or not) I have been. And since I have a record of being pretty terrible at this, I'm making these as broad as possible, you know, to help with succeeding (no one should set themselves up for failure!).

1. Write more

I always say I'm going to, I talk about the things I want to write with friends, I think about them. And that's it. Which, in all honesty, is a really terrible way to get anything written. Not actually writing it down. So this year I'm going to blog more, journal more, outline and re-write my novel, try my hand at short stories. More than anything I'm hoping to jumpstart a daily writing habit in any way possible. 

2. Make my house a home

In the autumn of 2017, I was lucky enough to buy my first home. While all my things are here, and I've purchased some important new pieces of furniture, it's still a place I live rather than my home. I have walls that still need to be painted, art that needs to be hung, a library that needs to be culled and organized, and a lot of stuff that still needs to have a home found for it. I think it might be time for yet another attempt at KonMari or maybe the Swedish Death Clean because even though I have more space than ever, I still feel that I have too much stuff. 

3. Take better care of myself

Even though I'm pretty healthy, and manage to care of myself pretty well, there are a lot of ways in which I could be doing this better. For a while there, my nutrition was pretty great (mostly 'cause I had a trainer helping me) and I was going to the gym regularly. And then, like many people, life got away from me, and the first things to suffer were eating well and working out. I'm going to re-embrace the habits my trainer had mostly instilled in me, and try and find the time (a three-hour daily commute makes this hard) to head to the gym again. One extra thing in here, I don't have a proper skincare regime, and I think I'd like one. I feel like it's something I probably should have locked down earlier in life, and just never did.

Only three things. That seems do-able. I mean, yes, there are more things rolled into each of those things, but let's pretend it's only three...

War for the Planet of the Apes: A Review

If you're looking for a way to escape the haze and the heat this weekend, I have a few tips:

  • Tip #1 DO NOT go see Valerian. It's a trap. While it is visually lovely, and has some nice moments, overall it's a bit of a mess, with a completely unbelievable relationship and some awful dialogue thrown in on the side. (If you really want some Luc Besson in your life, stay at home and watch The Fifth Element instead),
  • Tip #2 DO NOT see The Emoji Movie. I haven't seen this one, but if this tweet is anything to go by, I'm definitely better off. If your kids try to do the same, maybe convince them to stay home and watch Moana and Zootopia on Netflix instead.
  • Tip #3 definitely go see War for the Planet of the Apes, it's a completely satisfying ending to the new Apes trilogy. (and manages to neatly tie itself to the 1968 original)

If you haven't seen Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) or Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) I would highly recommend that you see them, not just because you'll understand more of what's going on in War for the Planet of the Apes, but also because they're genuinely good films. I was a little reticent when Rise came out in 2011, I still had the bad taste of the 2001 Tim Burton/Mark Wahlberg version in my mouth, so much so that I didn't see it in theatres. After having several friends (with respectable movie taste) mentioned how good it was, I watched it when it came out on DVD (remember DVDs?) and was pleasantly surprised.

One of the best things that these new films has done is shift the focus from the humans to the apes. It lets the films hold up a mirror to human society, and what it shows isn't reflection we should ever be proud of. The apes, trying to build a peaceful society away from the humans, continue to be hunted and feared by the human population. After a devastating attack on their home, Caesar (the absolutely amazing Andy Serkis, who should win all the awards for his motion capture work) sends the apes off to find a new home, while he heads off to launch a one-ape assault on the Colonel (Woody Harrelson) and the soldiers who killed so many of his people. While there is actual conflict in the film, a lot of the 'war' is internal, as Caesar's animal and rational sides battle for dominance. Let me reiterate here how amazing Andy Serkis is as Caesar here. This is a completely CGI character, but the performance that Serkis gives through all that technology is nuanced and oftentimes heartbreaking. This is a character who came to prominence through conflict, and wanted nothing more than to live out the rest of his life in peace with his family - instead he's pulled into conflict all over again. All of that comes across perfectly in the performance, a better performance than you get in a LOT of films these days.

Do yourself a favour and see War for the Planet of the Apes, and then if you really feel like you 'have to' (you don't) go ahead and re-watch (or watch for the first time) Planet of the Apes starring Charlton Heston from 1968 and see just how far science fiction films have come from the late 1960s. It's a long way folks, a long LONG way.

Me & The Boy Who Lived

I'd kind of been struggling as to what to post as my first post on my new site. Should it be a statement of intention? Maybe, but every time I do that, I feel like I fail to live up to that statement. Then I was reminded ('cause, the Internet) that it was the 20th Anniversary of the first publication of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (that's right, PHILOSOPHER, not Sorcerer, silly Americans), and figured that it was the perfect thing to reflect on, 'cause I have a kind of odd but (hopefully) charming story about becoming a Harry Potter fan. 

When I first heard about Harry Potter, it was from my friend Reen. We were 15 and having a sleepover at my house. Now, it's important to note that, at the time, I considered her love of Jane Austen books to be odd (how foolish young Andrea was) and therefore believed her taste in books to be slightly questionable.

She began to tell me about this book that she was reading, about this kid and the wizard school he goes to. The thing I remember most vividly was her trying to explain Quidditch to me. I don't know why she thought that sport would be the way to convince me to read these books, but I remember becoming more and more skeptical as words like 'quaffle,' 'snitch' and 'bludger' escaped her mouth. Sure, wizards who play sports on brooms, right Reen... *cue fifteen-year-old eyeroll*. I thought it all sounded so dumb and therefore resolutely declared I would never read 'those wizard books'.

Cut to a year later. My aunt and my two cousins from Victoria were visiting us up in the frozen north for Spring Break. My cousins are 10 and 12 years younger than me, and they were reading Harry Potter. I remembered the books from when Reen tried to convince me, and the fact that these little kids were reading them (or possibly having it read to them) was clear proof that these were dumb kids books I don't know why they brought all three of the books that were published with them, but they did. 

Thank god they did.

A few days into their stay, out of the kind of curiousity that you can't help when you see other people so excited about something, I picked up the first book and read the inside flap. And then the first chapter. J.K. Rowling had hooked me, like so many others, with her story of the neglected boy from under the stairs who discovered he was part of a great big invisible world. Before they went back to Victoria I'd finished not only Philosopher's Stone, but Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban as well.

By the summer that The Order of the Phoenix was released I was completely hooked. I was working at a summer camp in the Shuswap. I had my pre-ordered copy sent to the office. I lived in fear that it wouldn't arrive on the day it was supposed to, seeing as we were in a tiny little town in the middle of BC. Thankfully my copy DID arrive in time, 'cause my friend Shannon bought a copy and we were (for reasons I can't rightfully explain) going to have a 'race' and see who could finish first. We both were working long days in the smokin' hot heat of a Shuswap summer, but would race back to our little common room and read whenever we had a chance. I honestly can't remember who 'won', but having someone reading that book at the same time was great for the 'can you believe that?' and 'how do you think this?' kind of questions that would inevitably come up.

I was lucky enough to work at a Coles bookstore when I was in university and got to work the midnight launch for The Half-Blood Prince. We all dressed up, I knit house scarves for the whole staff, we had owls from a local bird sanctuary, crafts, games, the whole nine yards. I got my copy of book 6 at midnight like everyone else, but was one of the lucky ones that didn't have to work the next day, which meant I could stay up and read the book when I got home.

And I did.

By the time I got to Snape killing Dumbledore I'd been awake for more hours than I could remember and had consumed a fair amount of coffee. I was sure I'd hallucinated it. That couldn't possibly have happened could it? There was NO way that could have happened. I put the book down. I paced. I went outside into the early morning air and paced a little more, contemplating all the ways I could've misread what I thought I'd just read. Then I came back and sat down and re-read the passage, and then the tears began. I don't cry a lot when I read. But Rowling got me, I was overtired and over-caffeinated, so that may have contributed to it, but she got me nonetheless. 

When Deathly Hallows was released in 2007, I was 23, I was supposedly an adult. I'd graduated from university with my fancy film studies degree, and instead of launching myself into the world, I'd moved back home. Just as I was finishing up my degree, far away from home, my father was diagnosed with cancer and passed away a few months later. That first year was HARD. Anyone who's lost not only a parent, but any loved one, will tell you that all those 'firsts', Father's Day, birthday, Christmas, etc, after you lose them are the worst.

So to say that when I opened up my copy of Deathly Hallows on July 21, 2007 the sting of my his death was still sharp, is a bit of an understatement. The first 'anniversary' of his passing was only days away, and I was looking forward to escaping into the world of Harry Potter one last time. Unsurprisingly, Rowling got me again.

Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.
— -Albus Dumbledore, The Deathly Hallows

This book, and it's themes of death, grief, power and strength hit right to the core of me, 'remedying' me in ways that I don't think I quite understood at the time. Harry fearing and confronting death, and his talk with Dumbledore at King's Cross are things that still resonate with me almost 10 years later. 

It's been a long, wonderful journey from refusing to read those 'dumb wizard books' to eagerly anticipating each release and proudly wearing my Gryffindor colours, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Thank you J.K. Rowling, and happy anniversary Harry.