Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 177

Confucius vs. Mel Gibson

Kyle visited this weekend, so Friday night we ended up watching an usual double bill:  Chow Yun Fat's 2010 Chinese period piece, Confucius, and Mel Gibson's Get the Gringo. 

We started with Confucius, which we watched as we ate take-out Chinese in a revival of our old Chinese & Chinese tradition.  Somewhere around the ninth hour of the movie, we realized that it was going to give The Assassination of Jesse James by I don't care will this movie ever end!?! a run for the title of most boring film ever.  (Jesse James won it by a week, though both clocked in a little over 17 years in length).  In the course of slogging through Confucius we learned such important life lessons as
Don't dive into a frozen lake to retrieve scrolls.Don't follow Confucius if you ever want to have fun again.If you are following Confucius and having fun, someone in your group is about to die.When in doubt about how to defeat an enemy, spout an enigmatic line and leave while the enemy is still confused.  All useful rules, no doubt, but they don't make for much of a film.

When we'd celebrated a lot of birthdays and the movie was finally over, we knew we had to watch something with gunfire and explosions, so we took a chance on Get the Gringo. 

Mel kicked Confucius' butt.

The movie was surprisingly good, a solid B film.  Most of the time, the events that were about to happen were not immediately obvious.  The acting ranged from passable to quite good, the pacing was solid, and Gibson did a decent job in the lead role.  From the opening scene onward, the film careened along its plot arc like an ether-addled Hunter S. Thompson transported to a Mexican prison instead of Las Vegas.  Not by any means a top-drawer movie, Get the Gringo is nonetheless good enough that we were both glad we'd seen it.

If you have to watch only one of these movies, Gringo is definitely the one to pick. 

The trailer I've seen recently that most excites me

about the movie it's advertising.



Oh, yeah, I can't wait.  I'll land from Europe the Saturday it opens, and I plan to see it the next day. 

And so it begins

My sabbatical, that is.  I left the office early tonight, at a little after 7:30 p.m., caught up on email and with my out-of-office messages on.  I won't return to work until mid-day on May 6.  I've written several times before about my sabbatical plans, so I won't bore you by repeating that information here.

What I will say is that tonight has felt odd, somewhat like the evening before I head to the beach for vacation but more, because I'm finally now here and processing the fact that I will not do a single thing for PT for the next seven weeks.  It's a good kind of odd, something like a heavy weight slowing coming off my shoulders, but right now it's definitely odd.

I look forward to all that I will learn and experience over the next seven weeks.

Birthday numbness

Birthdays usually upset me.  They drag me down, remind me of all that I haven't accomplished, force me to stare at least for a moment in the direction of death, and generally make me miserable.  I try hard to enjoy them.  I usually treat myself to extra sleep, the day off work, and so on.  None of those treats work, but I keep trying them.

This year, I've felt nothing so far.  The combination of exhaustion from working to get ready to go on my sabbatical and general exhaustion have left me nearly numb to the occasion. 

Oddly enough, I hope I feel something, even the usual depression, soon.  I have to hope sleep and my sabbatical will help.

On the other hand, not having my birthday upset me so much is probably quite a treat for my friends. 

Oh, yeah:  today was my birthday. 

Aren't you excited about your sabbatical?

I get this question a lot lately.  My answer is always the same:  "No."  Each time I say that, people look at me like mushrooms have started to sprout from my nose, so I thought I'd explain why.

When I'm working, I'm all about focus.  Keep the goal in sight, take a step forward, clear any obstacles you encounter, repeat.  I context-swap very quickly and easily, but whatever I'm working on at any given moment gets as much of me as I can give it. 

What I'm working on now is very important to me:  Doing my best to help prepare PT for my absence.  I know the company will be fine for seven weeks without me even if I miss a lot of things now, but I won't be happy with my performance if I don't do all I can and all I said I would do to make the transition smooth.

Ask me the same question Friday night, and I expect the answer will be slightly different:  "Not yet, but I suspect I will be after I get some sleep." 

Ask again a couple of days later, and I expect I will be quite excited indeed. 

As with most good things in my life, though, I won't let myself fully believe in them until they're here, until they close the door on my plane to Europe. 

Josh Ritter had a dream last night

Far better poetry than mine, same first line, very different topic.

A gentle, lovely song.

Enjoy.

I had a dream last night

I had a dream last night.
A ringing in the handset.

Mom answered, saying the name of a company
I once owned, many years ago.

"Mom?" I said, wonder in my voice
At the name so old and so far from her, nothing to do with her.

"Yes, dear," she said, as she always did,
The smirk cool water running over my fevered body.

I smiled--in the dream and in my bed,
And fought the waking as I felt my face move.

"It's all the same," she said, "always was.
Just you, something you're doing, me, us."

"Mom," I said again, louder in my head,
Maybe louder in my bed.

"It's okay, dear," she said.  "I'm here.
I'm always here, but now I have to go."

"Mom," I said, the connection blank. I woke
And held the pillow tight and wished for one more dream against the night.

I hate springing forward

I'm not at all convinced of the value of Daylight Savings time, but I'll let others have that debate. 

What I am sure of is how much I hate losing an hour of sleep on the weekend.

It's five a.m. on a Saturday night, and I'm finally able to crash.  Hey, that's not so bad:  noon is a full seven hours away, so I'll still get more sleep than usual. 

Not on spring forward day.  Nope, now it's suddenly six a.m., and noon feels way too close.

Yeah, I know your answer:  go to bed earlier.  Unfortunately, things don't always work out that way for me. 

 So, I'm going to continue to hate springing forward. 

Two of my favorite talks from TED are now live

I believe you'll be glad you invested the time to watch these two.

In this one, Ron Finley talks about the power and the defiance of growing your own food--in South Central LA. 



In a powerful performance that brought the audience to its feet, Shane Koyczan does a longer version of the poem that became a huge Internet hit. 

A little Paris magic in La Quinta

During lunch one day at TEDActive, I shared a table with an attendee from Paris.  We ended up talking about the city, which we both love. 

In the course of the conversation, I mentioned my favorite spot in Paris, about twenty or so yards in front of Notre Dame.  I've discussed this spot in
"Yes," he said, "I know it very well.  It is perfect.  I proposed to my wife there."

I may never see that man again, but in that moment we bonded over our appreciation of that little bit of perfect ground. 

We both walked away smiling.