Some readjustments...and memories.

Am a little on the late side this morning when I wake and scowl at the noisy dogs. There have been three premature wake-ups, thanks to the monster Boxer, but otherwise it was an uneventful night. It was too short, but sufficient enough, I suppose.

While I’m locking out the monster, so I can let the others out, Knight II decides to vent his frustrations on the blankets, dragging them off in the three seconds it takes me to turn my back and lock the door in Trin Trin’s face.

I grumble my displeasure at him, dragging the blankets back up and then unlocking the door to let the pack of lunatics out into semi-freedom so I’m able to do the usual morning cleaning without the pack getting in the way.

About an hour later, once I’m in the main house, I’m delighted to find that there’s no laundry and that yesterday’s batch isn’t completely dry yet, so I change into my exercise outfit and start my warm up routine for today’s workout session. Almost a week without exercise, and I was starting to feel a little edgy from it, so I throw myself into the workout wholeheartedly.

It goes well, jumps, pumps, pull-ups, punches, kicks and whatnot preceding a short session with the weights until the hour has passed and I head to the showers to get rid of the perspiration that has gathered aplenty. Suitably fuzzy by the hot water, I get dressed once more and return to the house for a quick preparation of Yadzia’s extra meal, breakfast, and my morning coffee before I set up the computer and get to the messages.

Very few again today, blessed holidays allowing me to switch my attention to the latest book project and write down a page or so before I remember the plan: I’m supposed to get online with my publisher and load up the digest (cheaper) versions of my W.I Investigations.

It takes about three hours to get everything just right, some mix-ups that I don’t notice until I’ve already downloaded three files, meaning that I have to go back to do it all over again, dragging it out for longer than I’d intended. Ah well, I was successful in the end, having a five brand new copies of my book available for readers for decent prices at last.
Wonder if it’ll make a difference. Hah.

I was in the middle of the last upload when little sister started on our dinner: Asian stir-fry noodles, with pickles and fried eggs on the side. It goes down well on this chilly Christmas day, filling our stomachs and pleasing the palate.
We’re in the midst of dinner when grandpa reminds us of eleven years ago, this very day, when we had our very first meal inside the newly constructed–and not finished at that time–house.

It is a wonderful memory. I remember the weeks preceding it, while we were working double time in hopes of getting it all done so we could celebrate this very day inside the house. We’d been working like mad on getting the wooden boards up on the roof. Me using the circle saw to cut board after board, treating them with anti-termite poison stuff and then lifting them straight up into the air–still partially wet, of course, hah–where those on top of the roof were nailing them down.

We were spread thin, working on laying the last bricks on one side, others connecting the heavy beams making up the roof, while the boards rapidly hid the view of the sky overhead until at long last a ceiling was in place, just days before Christmas.

The weather was pleasant enough, if a little iffy when it concerned occasional rainstorms. We’d covered the whole up with a thick layer of plastic by the time all the debris were shoveled out of the structure.
The day before Christmas eve the first tiles were laid. Beautiful earth red squares with a matching decorative rectangular, laid out like a fake carpet in the center of what would one day turn into our living room.

I remember that even as I started on preparing a five-course dinner for that special night, big brother and a family friend were grouting those tiles finishing up just hours before dinnertime.
In the meanwhile I discovered the complications of cooking such an elaborate meal with only two burners and a tiny ten-year-old oven we’d brought out just for the occasion.

It took me hours to get everything done, filling dish after dish, demanding updates on how the work was going, while maneuvering through what was basically an old trailer kitchen where you could barely turn around without knocking into something.
I don’t know how many times we moved up and down the mountain, getting all the dishes, china, drinks, cutlery and whatnot up to the house, but I do know that by the time I was finished a feast was weighing down the makeshift table in the very center of the recently laid floor.

We’d used portable braces as supports for the table that consisted from spare wooden boards that hadn’t gone up on the roof. It was at least three yards long, a little uneven and covered by a clean white sheet. There was no electricity yet, and only three actual chairs, so with our group of nine we were sitting on buckets, piled up bricks and a wobbly stool that had been used through a variety of chores.

Two-dozen candles lit up the table; showing off the fancy china I’d dug out from the storage holds underneath the bus and had spent hours cleaning. It looked good and by the time we all got down to the business of toasting our hard work and digging in, the atmosphere was more than a little cozy.

I’d cooked too much, of course, but every course was a delight, making me feel stuffed up to my eyeballs by the time we finished dinner and procrastinated about starting cleanup and lugging everything back down to the bus. In the end, I believe we only took down the absolute necessary, deciding to tackle the big cleanup the following day when our bodies had digested the big meal. Hah.

It’s strange how such memories can flash through one’s mind in just seconds, while actually writing it down takes up to twenty minutes.

But back to today: I decide to get to work after dinner, doing the dishes in little sister’s stead and then looking around what’s on the “menu” for today.

The new cabinet for storage needs to be painted one last time, a task middle sister volunteers to do while I finish cleaning everything from the counter in preparation of taking out the bar in the center.

We’ve debated the issue for several days now, and finally we made a joined decision to lower the bar just a few inches in order to create a more open atmosphere in the kitchen.

It is a tedious job which big brother and I set ourselves on just as soon as we manage to pry the elevated section from where it’s squeezed between the counters.
Some effort is put into this task, until at long last we manage to lift the heavy section up and out of place, and set it on the counter so I can take it apart.

Since air grates have already been fitted, in order to create some symmetry we need to take off two inches from the top and one and a half from the bottom. It is no easy task to perform, especially since it is necessary to keep it all straight, and in the same dimensions when we slide it back in place and exclaim a mutual sigh of relief.

The end result is different, but also roomier, just the way we’d intended. Cut offs have been repainted, screws pre-drilled and two hours later the counter is once again looking pretty.

Using a small container, I mix up some more tile glue and fit the last pieces to the inches revealed by the lower bar counter, adding tile sills under the windows before using the remainder to grout the tiles and bringing us yet another step closer to completion of the kitchen.

By this time middle sister has finished painting, and while we wait for the paint to dry, we do some cosmetics, such as steel utility racks, allowing for storage. By the time we’re done, midnight is nearing, but the cabinet still needs to be hung, so we move on to that.

Using metal corners to hang the heavy wooden structure, the cabinet gets hung, leaving just enough room between it and the freezer for the steel racks that are going to hold our fresh produce in the near future.

At long last, with just one more rack to go, we call it a night and join little sister and brother, who have already started the nightly cleanup.
It is past one in the morning when the night has come to an end, and I drag my tired limbs up the mountain to my cabin, where I still need to feed the dogs.

In light of tonight’s activities, I might have done better in skipping another workout session, but still, considering that doing my exercises is, and should be, a semi-steady routine, I’m glad I did them anyway.
Yes, every muscle in my body is screaming by now, but the body also knows (and cheers audibly) that I won’t have to do them for at least a day or two.

Writing exploits.

I had a wonderful dream. I know I did when the Monster Boxer woke me up just a short time after sunrise, thinking, right before I dropped my head back in the pillow, “Gawd, I need to remember this one,” and tightened my hold around the monster’s thick neck, just to keep her immobile for a few more hours of sleep.

When the alarm screeched the dream was gone, however, making me more than a little frustrated when I get out of bed and toss the dogs out trying, without success, to dig the details out of my un-cooperating brain. Grrrr. It was marvelous, thrilling, exciting and…it is completely gone, making me want to grab Trin Trin, the monster, and shake her.

Alas I’m not that vengeful and just go through the morning, grumbling at her about how she ruined a perfectly good Blog subject for me with her usual shenanigans. She just stares at me with that bored wide-eyed look, turning around mid-rant and leaving me talking to the empty spot she left behind with the common courtesy of requesting to be excused. The nerve! She took the wind right out of my sails.

Shaking my head at her lack of compassion, I make the bed and then get dressed.
The sky is overcast–it has been since my rude awakening in the morning–and a distinct chill swirls through the air while the dogs and I make our way down the mountain towards the courtyard gate.

Still not a workout day, yay, so as soon as I’ve deposited my bag on the kitchen counter, I head back outside to take down a small amount of laundry and continue to lug out the three batches that have been done during the night for hanging.

Those done I head into the house for a few pull-ups, a quick breakfast and then settle behind the computer with my coffee and cigarette. Messages are rapidly dealt with. The Holidays keep people busy so there is really little to answer before I spend half an hour on the forums and then switch over to reading the psychic novel parts I’ll need in order to continue writing the story.

It takes me only a few pages before I get into the mood and scroll through to where I last wrote for this particular tale. I manage to add half a page, while interacting with big brother who’s trying his hand at actual writing be starting the vampire novel on his own. It goes pretty well, he even admits so himself when in the past he’d always find himself getting stuck in the first paragraph because he wants everything to be perfect from the start.

It would be great, of course, but regretfully that is not how writing works. It is a painstaking process of first just letting the words flow out unhindered by actual thoughts. (For me it is, at least.) Then, once this is done, you go back time and again to remove redundant statements, repeats, punctuations, typos, and shifting around everything until a semblance of a “done” story begins to take form.

A long tedious process, that requires occasional settle periods, nightly ponderings, and daily reproves on how you could possibly have written something that asinine?…only to find out that in the end only the basics of the story are actually there unchanged from the way it was first written.
It is frustrating, time consuming and utterly…satisfying in the end when you’re reading through the final product of your imagination.

I do admit to feeling a sense of excitement for big brother who is really just starting on his road of discovery into the complex world of writing. He is still experiencing the wonder of creating an illustrative sentence, even the smaller ones, and such marvel is what made me addicted to becoming an author in the first place.

He’s got the imagination, and the sense of pace necessary for contemporary paranormal fiction–as he should, after reading the genre for years–and as soon as he has developed the necessary vocabulary he’ll learn real fast to match my own speed in writing a story down.

He’s a better sport than I am, too. He doesn’t appear to mind my suggestions at all, having attitude of “add and remove what you think isn’t right”, with an ease that astounds me at times.

Personally I’m too set in my ways now to manage such a feat. I need to let my fingers rattle in the first burst of writing, with as little input from the outside as possible lest I lose my grip on the sometimes elusive thread of inspiration.
Edits and suggestions in the midst of that only confuse me, and make the fountain sputter to a stop if I’m not very careful.

Later on I’m fine with it. If something doesn’t flow, or make sense, I appreciate his input well enough, but first I actually need to get all that’s swirling in my head down on the proverbial page.
Big brother, on the other hand, actually seems to thrive on continuous input, which earns him considerable kudos for as far as I’m concerned.

It is a rather thrilling concept, really, what with the two of us producing stories at a staggering speed. I wonder what all we’ll manage to create into the variety of genres we’re interested in. Action, Sci-Fi, Romance, Paranormal, Fantasy, horror and Thrillers: The sky would be the limit, I’m thinking…thought admittedly the last two are more my area of expertise. Hah.

While I type a page or so, he manages three quarters of one and it has him positively cheery. I don’t blame him either. Back in the day when I first started out, a full page was a day’s work, and it would be a disaster in edits, hah. He’s far better than I was at the beginning, that’s a fact.

Halfway through the session I get momentarily distracted upon finding a recording program on my computer, and mess around with recording several texts from my books–and listening to them–just to see how they’d sound.
It’s not bad. My voice appears to have changed over the years. It’s become huskier, I think, and rather than the annoying European accent that always drove me bonkers in the past, I can now switch from Old English to American. I just might attempt a serious recording some time in the near future.

Still, with both of us having made a solid dive into our separate projects, dusk has arrived and I shut the computer down to start on dinner.

Couscous with veggies will be it for today, and I chop onions and garlic to glaze in a curry herbal mix before adding half a pack of the dried couscous, which I bake that way for several minutes.
Some salt and sugar for taste, along with pepper precede the liberal pouring of boiling water that will soften the couscous while the flavor has already settled in the mix.

Next come the red and green bell pepper pieces, sliced cauliflower, green beans, peas and sweet corn that finish the list of ingredients. Thirty minutes after I began, dinner’s ready for consumption, earning me several compliments on a dish the younger sibs really enjoy. With a liberal add of cottage cheese, I too enjoyed the meal, and start cleanup immediately. Little needs to be done, since the meal was simple, so fifteen minutes later I look around to see what’s next.

The pantry is a mess, or so I noticed during the course of the week, and I decide to clean it prior to starting on the kitchen project. Bottles of soda are scattered over the floor, bags of dog food are randomly placed on the expanse of floor, and in the section where the washing machine stands laundry actually tumbled out of the bags.

Grumbling about the obvious lack of care about the mess in there, I spend almost an hour putting the room to rights, and then proceed to get the canned supplies from the kitchen, so I can empty the old storage cabinet.

While it is slowly depleted of its contents I realize that the design is really quite similar to that of the new kitchen, and after examining the structure for a bit, big brother and I decide that it will be really easy to make adjustments to the structure.
By sawing off the bottom shelve it can easily be tipped on its side. Then, using the former shelves as walls and the removed section as new, shorter shelves, it will be a smaller, much more manageable supply closet that’ll fit perfectly beside freezer.

Recycling; you gotta love it–and as an added bonus it will save us at least € 100 in new materials. Perfect, we decide and set to work.

Big brother diverts his attention between the lot of us, helping out where he can, and doing some more work on the electrical outlets for the fridges that has us without power when something shorts during the procedure.
No matter, though, the problem is fixed within several minutes and work is once again in full swing.

So, while little brother and sister are painting the wall where the freezer and fridge were yesterday, I begin sawing and sanding the soon-to-be new supply closet.
Across the counter, middle sister is preparing the primer she’ll need to paint the cleaned wood, and starts on that task by the time I’m ready to cut the shelves out of the old, long one.

It seems almost predestined, since everything fits with little more than an inch to spare. I love it when things work out like that.

The radio is mostly playing atrocious Christmas songs, and this earns the stations a lot of grumbling on our part while we take turns skipping to different ones in search for something a little less seasonal. In the end we settle on one of those noisy stations with lots of base and repeats that normally wouldn’t come from our speakers for any price…but, all the Christmas “cheer” is just too much to bear. Hah.

It takes most of the night to re-make the cabinet just right, but in the end, with two layers of paint covering it up, we’re quite pleased with the end result. Measurements throughout have shown that we should be able to hang the new-old shelves on just the right height to allow room for the small electrical grill and microwave, and allowing room to spare of the small steel baskets that hold the fresh produce.

With little brother and sister starting cleanup around us, middle sister and I finish our painting and put the new structure away so the big cleaning can get done.
Glue spills from the previous tiling night need to removed from both wall and floor tiles, paint splatters get swiped away and the general mess is dealt with until half an hour before midnight everything looks remotely presentable once more and we all go our separate ways.

What with it being early still, big brother and I both decide to get back to writing, and delve into our prospective worlds of literature for an hour before I head on up to my quarters and start preparing for the night to come with a solid two pages for the day under my belt.

Big brother is thrilled about having managed the same amount during the day, and we talk over the house phone several times during the course of the evening.
I’m in the midst of cleaning my bathroom when the first call comes in, and I’m just about to start up my computer the second time, making me smile once more at his enthusiasm.

At long last I settle down for my nightly session, and soon start on today’s Blog in hopes that I can get it done in time. I can’t, of course. As usual I get carried away and end up writing more than I’d intended. Also, a few more attempts at the recordings, messing around with singing some of the songs I like best, takes much longer than I’d intended. I’ve decided that my voice sounds best with Alanis Morrisette songs, Jewel, Ilse Delange and Katie Melua songs. Very cool.

Too late, again. Ah well. This is Samaya’s World nonetheless.

The day and a short rant.

I was having a particularly pleasant dream about my books being in the bestseller lists when the monster Boxer awakened me from blessed sleep about three hours before it was time for me to get up. The disturbance was certainly at a most inopportune time, erasing most of the details on the dream, only leaving me with that solitary memory to hold onto when I grabbed the beast and dragged her onto the bed.

I’d fully intended to continue on with the dream, but of course failed when I dropped off into unconsciousness and didn’t surface until the alarm started screeching, causing the usual riot from the pack, demanding to be let out.

Still exhausted, I watch them dash out into the cloudy daylight, hesitating for only a moment before I stagger back to the bed, set the alarm for another forty minutes and crawl under the blankets for “just a few minutes more”.

The extra sleep has helped considerably when I finally do get up, prying my eyes open and carefully evading the pack that has gathered around my bed with apparent indignation of having been left to their own resources for a measly forty, bloody, minutes.

Chaos is actually staring up at me in accusation when I literally step over him to get out of the bedroom uttering an occasional yap, while Lhabana and Gada, the two lovable Labs, are bouncing up and down in front of me to get their much needed pat on the head. You’d think I’ve been gone for a day, if their behavior’s any indication.

I hurry through the morning rituals and head on down to the house, pleased to note that big brother took his time as well, and arrives ten minutes after I do.
Still in my rest days, I don’t feel inclined to do exercises today, and since no laundry has been done during the night, I have a quick breakfast, feed Yadzia, and settle behind the computer with a mug of coffee beside me in record time.

Messages and chats follow, after which I open the psychic drama file and start reading. It’s been a while since I wrote the beginning of the story, and in order to get back in the flow I’ll need to read everything I already wrote down in the past.

CNN is on, just as it is most days when we’re working on the computers, and it distracts us into a heated rant when the reporters start talking about the changing climate.

It amazes me how people still trust scientists that make all sort of predictions about when the icecaps will melt completely. I remember clearly, just a decade ago at most, when all those “knowledgeable” folks were claiming that it would be at least another fifty-to-a-hundred years before things got as serious as they did this year, but there it is. Storms raging all over the globe, temperatures out of whack, it’s visible everywhere, setting all sorts of records.

Also those that claim fluctuations to be normal and that we, as humans, have nothing to do with it…OMG. And these people went to universities, studied for this? It baffles the mind. How can a species counting more than seven billion bodies, NOT have an effect? It’s basic math, really.
If a large bunny population is crowded on too small a territory that area will rapidly disintegrate. How is this any different? Does the regular human being have more or less waste? Do bunnies drive cars; fly planes and whatnot all known and accepted as major polluters? Like I said, basic math.

Focus isn’t all that easy to find today. For some reason my mind keeps drifting off the story as I try to delve into the writing mood. Still, I manage to go through about ten pages before it is time for us to get ready to go to town.

I’m not at all looking forward to our lessons, but it has to be done, and I know it while we drive down the mountain and drop little sister off at the dentist. Once we arrive at the school we’re informed by our teacher that the computers are down, so we get two folders and a couple of test forms, and are send to the back where we are to do everything “the old fashioned way”. Pen, paper and crossing out multiple-choice answers for the next hour and a half.

It doesn’t go bad, or anything. We have done the questions on the computers often enough to get the majority of the questions right, but the mind-shift is somewhat disconcerting. In the time we usually manage at least eight tests, we now only manage four, and are feeling somewhat out of sorts when we leave the school and head to the waiting car to return home.

More than a little pleased that we did the groceries and other shopping yesterday, allowing us to go home immediately for a change.

After the familiar noisy greeting of the pack, and stuffing down a quick snack of French fries and veggies, I start cleaning up the kitchen in preparation of today’s “project”.
More tiling’s in the plans, and I’m just about done setting everything up when the sibs join me.

While little sister starts painting the recently revealed wall for the second time, middle sister prepares the glue for the tiles that I begin cutting for the last section of the floor. It takes some fancy cutting, since there are nooks and crannies, but it goes remarkably well by the time the glue’s done and middle sister cleans up the bare concrete for the actual laying.

For some reason, whenever we are trying to do something on the floor, all the dogs grow this major fascination for that particular section: Each and every one of them gathering around, crowding closer and preferably lying down on a tile we’ve just put down with quite some effort for putting it in right.
In the end we decide laying them in twos, covering them up with a board as soon as they’re down and thus saving them from being jarred by the dogs.

By the time we’re done with the floor, and halfway through the glue, middle sister and I move on to the part of the wall behind the counter that still needs to be done. With me cutting the tiles once more, she starts putting them up.

Big brother works on getting the electrical wiring for the fridges placed on the other side of the kitchen.

Since the freezer and fridge are still in their old place, big brother and I start moving them, giving room to middle sister who then continues with the wall tiles on her own.

Cleaning up the mess that has somehow gathered behind the machines takes at least thirty minutes, and we check the wiring before starting the laborious chore of moving the heavy machinery clear across the kitchen and settling them against the freshly painted wall.

There is a slight hiccup when one is in place. There are three big holes in the wall where old outlets were, and deciding to shut them, I use the leftover glue fill them up and smooth them over until they are once again part of the wall.

That done, the fridge is placed beside the freezer at last.
As soon as they’re set in place, the kitchen suddenly looks totally different. The dimensions have altered, dwarfing the rather big coolers, now that the ceiling is only a couple of feet above them. It also makes the counter cozier while creating lots of space on the other side, where a large expanse of wall has been opened up.

Cleanup. It is a big mess all through the kitchen and it takes us almost an hour to get it all cleared away. It is already past midnight when we are finally done, and I sit down to watch the final episodes of “Frasier” while discussing the vampire saga big brother and I are working on.

At long last, having caught my breath, it is time to head on up to my cabin where I feed the dogs and get ready for the night. It’s been a long day, and I can feel it in my bones by the time I settle behind the computer for a few quick chats and the Blog, of course.

I’m actually happy for the holidays for a once. It means that we won’t be going out and this will certainly allow us to just fall back into the pleasant routines of work and play without annoying interruptions.

Rest day, yay!

I woke up several times during the night–mostly due to the monster Boxer– but oddly enough I am not feeling too bad when the alarm goes off and it is time for me to get up.

The weather’s nice enough when I let the dogs out, and start on the morning rituals, knowing full well that today time is limited due to the necessary grocery shopping that needs to be done, and get to the house under an hour after waking up.

Taking in consideration that we’ll be out for hours today, big brother and I decide to take a rest day. No writing, no workout and blissfully, no laundry. After giving Yadzia his extra portion of food, I start on my own breakfast and turn on the coffee machine before I set my computer up and settle down.

Since time is limited, I spend some of it online, just having some chats on the forums and whatnot, while going over my messages simultaneously.
Big brother and I do a lot of discussing too, “the kitchen project” the next “writing project” and just about anything that comes to mind, making time fly by remarkably fast, when the sibs come down and the day starts for real.

The hour of our departure for town has arrived, and we’re all hurrying through getting ready. Little sister has decided to join us on today’s shopping spree, so we all pile into the truck and head on out.

First off is the specialty store. Some of the few extras that we like to enjoy from my country of birth are running low, so we get those before the store closes at six. Next comes the herboristeria (herbal shop) where I need to get some nutritional supplements and my monthly supply of Parteinio, which is really the only thing that keeps me from having an endless headache/migraine.

Gawd, I’m so happy I found that stuff. I don’t know what about it works so well, considering that it is basically made out of chrysantinums but it is the only remedy that managed to stop a two-year headache I once suffered from.
Nothing had helped, and God knows I tried anything from pharmaceutical painkillers, which only numbed it, acupuncture that did nothing, the chiropractor and whatnot until the lady at the shop suggested Parteinio.

Miracle above miracle it worked. Two weeks later I was astounded when I realized that the constant pounding was gone, allowing me to function normally again for the first time in TWO friggin’ years.

I’m very diligent in keeping my supply of the herbal pills stocked now. I can only do a maximum of four days without them before the headache will start up again, and if I make the error of not taking it for that amount of time, it will take up to a week of constant head-pounding before it has effect once more.

A lesson well learned, I’ll admit. Now I always have a spare bottle lying around.

But anyways, once I get the necessary supplies, we head on over to the El Corte Inglés, where we need to buy new ink for the printer.

Next comes the video store. Since we need to go to our lessons tomorrow anyway, we decide to rent a couple of movies for our viewing pleasure since when we’re not to working on the kitchen tonight.

The last store, the supermarket is up, and with two carts in front of us we start piling in the supplies that need to see us through the next two weeks. Putting everything on the checkout counter, back in the carts and then into the car takes quite some time but at last we’re heading back home, knowing full well that we’ll need to lug everything down to the house and place it in the storage still, before we can relax.

An hour later, with the last bit of yesterday’s chili filling our stomach’s big brother and I finish printing the W.I.’s for a review swap I’m doing with an author in the US before I finally flop down in an armchair and lounge with Chaos on Dax on my lap.

First movie up is “Hancock”. Either I’m not in the proper mindset, or the movie’s slow in starting up. What with me being preoccupied these days, the first could very well be the case, but once the story gets going I find myself intrigued with the concept. It is very different than I’d expected, I admit.

I didn’t find it really funny, which was what I’d presumed after seeing trailers and such, but sad, actually. There was a very intense surprise in the storyline, that had me intrigued by the time the ending came around. The premises of the story were very original, giving the “superhero” theme a rather intriguing twist halfway into the movie.

The concept surprised me, to say the least, hinting at something a little deeper which I wish the director, or author had expanded on a little. They could have let out a lot of the “fun stuff” and focused on Hancock’s past, for as far as I was concerned…that would have been fascinating.

Also, the ending was very intense, sad too.
What left me confused was that final scene at the hospital, however. I would have sworn I’d seen it before when a creepy déjà vu feeling swept through me. Almost as if I knew the exact sequence of the scene, when I know I didn’t.

Considering that tonight’s rest night, we immediately put on the next DVD. “The Dark Knight” showing a disappointing weak plot, acting that could have been done better, dragged out scenes of car pursuits and whatnot that could have done with some serious cutting. The only one who played an intriguing role was Heath Ledger, who gave and entirely new and seriously creepy flavor to the Joker role.

When I heard he was up for an award for playing the Joker in this batman role, I figured that it was just an honorary nomination due to his untimely death, but having watching him in the movie; I do have to say that acting-wise, it was brilliantly played.

I hardly recognized him, actually. His voice was completely different, his poise seriously messed up, and all in all a totally different person than he usually played.
The movie might not have been the best, but with Ledger’s playing, it remained interesting.

It’s late when the movie finishes, and I hurry on up to my cabin, chasing the dogs up and feeding them quickly. I’ve just about finished that particular chore when big brother comes scavenging through my book collection, and we end up talking for half an hour about the first movie before we both decide to call it a night and I’m left to start on my nightly session online.

Tomorrow is going to be another busy day…or at least parts of it, so with this I’ll finish today’s Blog and see if I can get to bed early for a change.