The Pebbles Forgive Me, The Trees Forgive Me, So Why Can't You Forgive Me? I Don't See What Anyone Can See, In Anyone Else, But You

--"Anyone Else But You", Moldy Peaches

My thoughts about the film Juno in no particular order...

Yeah go see it now—today, if possible.

It’s like the perfect movie--not the best movie ever, mind you. But it’s more than funny enough to be commercially acceptable, yet quirky and artsy enough to be billed as an indie film. The audience I went with last night cheered pretty damn loud after it was over, something you normally don’t see except for the huge blockbusters. It definitely has the potential for Little Miss Sunshine word of mouth buzz this year.

later that day...

Yeah, I think that review you sent nailed it. Publicity and hype can only get you so far, but once you’re at the screening you have to ask yourself does the movie work? Even if you’d never heard about this movie three or four months before, would you want to watch it? I think this movie does. As I was watching it—getting past the slick and often witty dialogue, getting past all the quirkiness of the characters, getting past the somewhat controversial subject matter—there’s a really good story there.

I totally agree with the Jennifer Garner reviews. She’s stuck with what could have been a real drag of a character when compared to the rest of the ensemble—uptight, proper, well-mannered, and seemingly boring in comparison. Yet she manages to have two or three key scenes that make me think she’s a damn talented performer. There is one scene in particular that in lesser hands could have come across as stilted and wrecking the flow of the movie. She manages to be perfect in tone, timing, and overall understanding of who this woman is and what kind of heartache she’s had to endure. That’s a whole lot of depth to bring a character in a comedy.

Ellen Page as Juno was great too. I don’t know any other twenty-year-old actress who could have played this particular sixteen-year-old so convincingly.

Whenever you do see this movie, you’re in for a real treat. A real treat.

I’ll probably end up seeing it again this weekend when it gets its wide release.

you are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel

I went in the shower after her. It didn't seem like she wanted to talk and I didn't know if I had anything else to offer her. It was a typically atypical move by me. There I had been, arguing with her for a full thirty minutes that we should discuss the situation in depth, yet when the time came, I went into the shower without a word. I guess I never can tell what to do in any given situation until the actual situation presents itself. In that case, I ran away like a lost lamb. I didn't want to face the big bad wolf. I didn't want to have anything to do with it. What I wanted to do was sit in the shower and think of what to do on my own.

It wasn't the first time I'd gone through a scare like this. It was the first time I'd gone through a scare like this in person. The previous time I'd just found about it on the phone. That time it'd been much like taking a survey over the phone. This is what we have to offer--how do you feel about it? This is what's happening--how do you feel about it? This is where we go from here--how do you feel about it? It had been so impersonal, sizably practical in its detachment. It hadn't been until much later, seeing her again, that the full weight of the dilemma was felt. I can live with words. Words don't mean a thing. They're not real. You can't touch words. But seeing what I had wrought, hearing the quavering of her voice, feeling that strange mixture of dread and anticipation--that's what brought it all home that time. Even in the end, I still had the sensation that the solution we had arrived at wasn't fully informed. I still think that we rushed through our actions and have been pondering the serious ramifications ever since. I still think I haven't gotten over something that happened over nine years ago.

This recent time, as I sat in the shower, letting the water hit me as a form of penance, I felt I needed to be taking more responsibility. After all, I wasn't some twenty-three-year-old. I'd put five more years under my belt. I should have been ready that time. But the funny thing is I don't think I knew any more that time than I did the first time. Drip. I still felt like I was scrambling for the right thing to say or do. Drip. I still felt like it was all happening too fast. Drip. I still had the impulse to flee the scene and never look back. Part of me in that bathroom just wanted to grab the nearby towel, wrap it around me, and just bolt straight out the front door, leaving her aghast face behind me.

Strangely, even in the midst of spitballing ideas, I kept expecting her to walk in with the results. I wanted it even. Unlike the first time where I had avoided answering the phone for as long as possible, this time I wanted her to call time and lead us both back from intermission. Yes, I had no clue about the solution, but, if anything, I was more prepared to believe that a solution existed... a solution that didn't involve completely shirking everything and everyone with the excuse I wasn't ready. I wanted to run, but knew I had to stay, whereas before I ran and seemingly just kept on running until the two of us could no longer see each other.

Maybe that's all going through an ordeal repeatedly gives you, a sense of calm in the face of adversity. It doesn't relieve the pressure. It doesn't give you more options. It doesn't prevent you from thinking of giving up.

It just gives you the strength to know you survived once and there's a good chance you'll survive again. It gives you the opportunity to forgive yourself for your prior mistakes by allowing you a second choice to more fully back your reasons. The first time caught me by surprise, but I don't think I fully felt like that again.

Then, as I was just beginning to wonder what was keeping her, she walked into the bathroom. She walked into the shower with me, relief in her hand in the form of something resembling a fat toothbrush.

"It's alright. We're fine."

And that was that.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers