For posterity. Fall 2012 semester.

So, almost a month ago, I joined a gym. I’ll pause briefly to let you get the laughter out of your system.

{glares}

Done now? Okay.

In June, the local Planet Fitness finally opened in the old Target/Hobby Lobby building. At only $10 a month it seemed like a place I could finally shame myself into joining without adding guilt about an exorbitant membership fee. My budget doesn’t allow for ~$75 a month and up (and that difference in memberships adds up to almost $800 a year).

I’m usually on the third treadmill from the right.

Honestly, I just wanted a place where I could sneak in, get on a treadmill for an hour or so, and leave. Maybe eventually I’ll work up the nerve to tackle some of the other exercise equipment — all of which I suspect are actually Transformers waiting to maim and torture me — but for now it’s me and the treadmill.

Right now the regimen is ~3.5 miles in an hour, three or four days in a row, then a day off to recover. Rinse and repeat. I’ve been told not to pay much attention to the weight scale and concentrate more on how I feel and how my clothes fit. Though I personally think power-walking roughly 20 miles a week should be good for at least a 5-pound weekly weight loss, the universe does not agree. Neither does my scale, which might (depending on what time of day it is) show either no weight loss at all, or a loss of about five pounds. Most likely somewhere in the middle.

During the day the place usually has maybe twenty or so people in it, which is nice. I’m not there to chest-bump other exercisers. I just want to sweat privately, thank you. Most of the staff is friendly, although a few of them might want to acquaint themselves a little better with the equipment; a couple of “how does this function work?” questions have garnered unexpected blank stares. (Really? You don’t know how the treadmills work? …okay.)

There is also this gigantic metal fan which will someday fall and decapitate me.

For the record, I hate exercising. Hate. It. And hate getting sweaty even more. But I’ve found, to my surprise, that I’m actually looking forward to each session. One reason is that being a stay-at-home student makes me stir crazy, so having an activity that forces me out of the house — and is healthy to boot — is, as Martha would say, a good thing.

Another is that it provides a great mental break. It takes a moderate amount of concentration to maintain proper pace and alignment in order to not fall off the treadmill (which, yes, I have done, but it wasn’t my fault… it was my iPod’s fault. I was trying to save it from falling and crashing onto the ground and it turned into a wonderful sit-com bit that I’m relieved has not shown up on YouTube). I’ve found a nice mix of podcasts — John August’s Scriptnotes, the Slate Culture Gabfest and NPR’s Ask Me Another, among them — that entertain me without demanding too much of my concentration. For one hour, all my school and unemployment issues are blissfully brushed aside.

Eye candy? Sure, there’s been some. But that’s not why I joined, and I’m relieved that eye candy is very much in the minority. My fellow daytime exercisers are a mostly middle-aged, overweight crew in which I blend and feel comfortable. Besides, eye candy is distracting and could lead to more falling-off-of-the-treadmill. And neither I, nor YouTube, want that.

A few weeks ago, Narc sent me an email titled “Cat fun,” containing only a link to the iTunes store. Because I trust him not to send me to a malware site, I soon found myself looking at the download page for an app called Paint for Cats.

It’s a pretty simple concept: An animated mouse runs around the screen of your iPad. Your kitty tries to catch the mouse by slapping a paw on it, which the touchscreen registers with a splash of color (you select the color palette). And… repeat. The longer kitty slaps at the mouse, the more dabs of paint get distributed all over the screen… er, I mean, artwork.

Dru, as she is with many things, was pretty intimidated by both the iPad and this mouse running around the screen. She spent her first session staring intently with a mixture of hesitation and fascination (she’s wary of large things, and the iPad is almost as big as she is.) However, after a few more sessions, she was slapping away and for a pretty long period of time, too. She’ll stick with it for at least 10 minutes, which is pretty good considering how quickly cats tire of their toys.

One of her recent masterpieces:

It was only $1.99, which is likely less than you’ll spend on a cat toy at the store (unless you’re a lucky cat parent like me, whose kid is quite content with free toys like old ribbons and wadded-up paper).  Unless your cat has claws made of diamond or adamantium, I doubt they’ll be able to scratch the screen.

As apps go, it’s rudimentary and not well-designed. There are no preferences, and no way of saving your kid’s artwork without exiting the app and then opening it again, when you’ll be presented with a “Save & share!” option. No save button within the app? No way to switch palettes without quitting and relaunching? Seriously? Also, due to the iPad’s swiping gestures, Dru is constantly exiting the app while playing, which is annoying to both of us. There should be a way to disable that within the app.

Still, Dru is getting a ton of enjoyment out of it, much more than I thought she would. As soon as I put the iPad in front of her, her eyes get big and she crouches down, ready for the mousie to appear. I love watching her get all focused and slap-happy, because she’s obviously having a ball. And the result is a creation like the above example which, let’s be honest, is no less interesting than an awful lot of abstract art.

I’ve been waiting months to see the Alien prequel, Prometheus (yes, prequel, see below). It’s always a danger that a long period of anticipation will lead to disappointment, and in this case, it has. Technically the film is flawless, and features some fine work by Noomi Rapace. But considering that the script was co-written by Lost’s Damon Lindelof, I really hoped it would have the same puzzle-box sensibility that Lost danced with so dangerously. It doesn’t.

In order to adequately explore every single idea and subplot the film really needed to be at least three hours long. Perhaps we should hope for a DVD Director’s Cut that explores all the stuff that didn’t make much sense in this version. And it’s all those holes that the film kept tripping over that I’m going to list here. But first…

SPOILERS.

The rest of this post is nothing but spoilers. Don’t blame me if you haven’t seen the movie yet, because this will definitely ruin it for you.

• First, about halfway through the movie, I started wondering, “Why did the filmmakers expend so much energy denying this was an Alien prequel?”, doing little tippy-toe dances around the issue. I’ll settle it: This is completely an Alien prequel. This film’s open ending heads off a few degrees divergent from Ripley and the events of the first Alien movie — meaning we are pretty sure to see a sequel to the prequel —but  Prometheus lays the foundation for the Alien ‘verse. And that’s pretty much the definition of a prequel to me.
• Is Marshall Logan-Grant pretty, or what? And having him + Michael Fassbender in the same movie pretty much = Win in my book. No observation on the movie, I just thought it needed to be said. Also, someone needs to cast Logan-Grant and Tom Hardy as brothers in a movie, because they are practically twins.
• I still don’t understand the opening scene. At all. Very cool and weird and all that. But an Engineer committing suicide by poisoning his own DNA didn’t jive with anything we would see afterward. (Unless I totally missed the point, which is possible. If you understood, please explain in the comments.)
• Boy, not even Charlize Theron could make Vickers believable, could she? I saw Young Adult a few weeks ago — amazing and cruelly funny performance by Theron — and that just reinforced how wasted she was here. Wouldn’t it have been more interesting to initially make her somewhat likable, and then have her whip out that flamethrower? (Poor Charley.) And no, having her summon Idris Elba for a little booty call didn’t make her more sympathetic.
• The revelation that Vickers is Weyland’s daughter seemed a bit… shrug…  didn’t it? A limp continuation of Lost’s (and Lindelof’s) recurring daddy issues theme, I guess, but even then… so what?
• David wears a strange yellow visor to — apparently — talk to Weyland while he’s in cryosleep? or just napping? Why? And why David, and not Vickers? What technology was that? Didn’t it seem like there was a scene missing that would explain why this mattered?
• Speaking of David, are all Company robots evil? Or, at least, shifty and a little creepy? David poisoning Charley with the weird black oil (shades of The X-Files, anyone?) made absolutely no sense to me. David had his “father” and creator onboard. Why would be put Weyland’s life in jeopardy by introducing some weird alien goo to the crew? (Yes, David said, “All children want to kill their parents,” but that seemed rather tacked-on to me, not to mention without motivation.) I was waiting for a reveal that a directive to poison Charley actually came from Weyland, but… no. Apparently Weyland-Yutani found a way around the old “harm no humans” robot law, and David was bored after that long flight and wanted a new science project.
• Also unexplained: David’s fascination with Lawrence of Arabia. I kept waiting for his favorite line, “The trick is to not mind the pain,” to come into play at some point, but no. Another deleted scene, maybe?
• Those metal “eggs” were some kind of bomb, then? Really leaky bombs that didn’t like humidity?
• Why cast Guy Pearce as Weyland, then bury him under tons of rubbery old age make-up? Why not give a real senior citizen a badly-needed job?
• Was I the only one who was really hoping they would get that Engineer’s head to talk? That would have been so cool! Instead, it exploded, for some inadequately explained reason, which wasn’t nearly so cool. (I did enjoy the retcon that the Alien Space Jockey was a spacesuit and helmet, and not an exoskeleton as we’ve assumed for 30 years.)
• I don’t think, even in a science-fictiony world 80 years in the future, anyone could perform a computerized C-section on themselves, have a gestating alien pulled out, have her stomach stapled shut, and then run around frantically for hours afterword without perhaps dying a little. I did admire how Noomi Rapace’s Shaw would periodically scream in pain during the last part of the movie, which helped me momentarily set aside my incredulity. But still, this whole little subplot… no. (Though this would have been the perfect place to insert a, “The trick is to not mind the pain,” reference.)
• After his awakening, the surviving Engineer immediately kills every human he sees. He’s only done in by that weird octopus monster that Shaw gave birth to, so humans are clearly no match for Engineers. And yet, Shaw decides that instead of heading home to Earthly safety, she’s going to have a little “Why don’t you like us?” chat with an entire planet full of Engineers who will, in all likelihood, also not want to be her BFF. And there won’t be any octopus babies to help her out this time.
• How did the Engineer get to the life support pod? The Engineers need oxygen to breathe just like humans, and Shaw barely made it to the pod before hers ran out. But the Engineer somehow made it out of his crashed ship and to the pod mere seconds after Shaw arrived, and he did it without breathable air?
• And finally, Shaw seems to have figured out David isn’t to be trusted. But she’s going to trust him to pilot her to an unknown planet? Where, as stated above, she’s likely to meet a swift demise… if she survives the trip, which is unlikely, because the Engineers’ ship is at least 2000 years old. Even if it’s space-worthy after two millennia, I’m pretty sure all the (alien) food in the pantry is a little stale, and the hypersleep chambers won’t be hospitable to humans. Hope she brought a book, to both read and eat.

When I see Prometheus again — and I will, eventually, on DVD — hopefully I’ll be able to overlook these missteps and enjoy the overall spectacle. It was a grand experiment, and it’s clear that Ridley Scott didn’t just phone this one in. The scale, and senses of both doom and wonder, are impressive. I just wish it had left me more awed than awwww’d.

That, apparently, I can get straight A’s.

I approach this post with some apprehension and sheepishness. My last blog post was, yeah, pretty negative. Hey, I was frustrated. And I heard about it (thanks Amie, for an honest and informative email exchange). I’m not retreating from anything I said because I still believe every word but, yeah, it could have been phrased a little less… well… pissy.

So, this time we’re going to talk about something much more positive. It isn’t new, really, but I’m encountering it in a framework that’s a lot different from my previous work environment. I’m speaking to everyone, but I’m particularly embracing my fellow perfectionists, because we’re a persistent lot who can easily drive ourselves (and those around us) crazy by never letting something go because it can always, always be made better. And here it is:

#3: It’s perfectly healthy to say, “It’s good,” let it go and move on.

Example: A challenging and frequently baffling research paper for my Humanities class. I started work on it more than a month ago and have doggedly worked on it every day since then. As the deadline approached it became obvious that it wasn’t going to be the perfect paper I wanted it to be. I didn’t have the depth of knowledge I wish I had, and I didn’t have an endless well of time.

Though it was frustrating, this was one of those situations when “good enough” was going to have to be good enough. I realized that, even though I still had a full day before the deadline, spending even half that time pounding on the keyboard wasn’t going to make a good paper perfect. And would the incremental improvement really be worth the worry, caffeine jitters and additional grey hairs? I gave the paper a final look-over, exported the PDF, uploaded it and… let it go.

Nothing is perfect. Nothing is ever perfect. Working and working on something, trying to inch closer to that infinitely far-away benchmark of perfection, may seem like a noble goal but it is also futile. You will never get there. Sorry. You won’t. No one does. Perfect is unattainable. Life will be less crazy-making when you not only accept that fact, but embrace it.

Our Type A society has somehow brainwashed us into believing that “good” = “bad”, and that only “great” or “perfect” are acceptable. But that’s messed up. Perfect isn’t acceptable because it just isn’t possible. Bad is abundantly possible. Good is something to be celebrated, not settled for.

There is nothing wrong with good. I was tempted to add the word “just” before that, to say “just good,” but that’s unfair. Good is good, and if you produce something that is “just” good you should celebrate both it and your accomplishment. Think about all the dreck that pops up on television, in theatres, on Netflix, then consider how many billions of dollars Hollywood spent to produce that dreck. Think about how easy it is to ruin a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies, by flubbing the ingredients or baking a few minutes too long.

Lots of money, lots of time and even the presence of chocolate does not automatically result in yummy goodness. It’s important that we celebrate producing something that is, yes, “just” good… because it’s more rare than we allow ourselves to realize.

Work on something — a paper, a painting, a home improvement project, a poem — as long as your energy, time and resources allow. Be open and aware of the point when you’re reached the “good” threshold, then step back. Ask yourself, Am I continuing to work on this because I honestly have the time and talent to improve it, or because I want it to be perfect? If it’s the former and time allows, then carry on and have fun. But if it’s the latter, consider whether or not what you have done is good “enough” to let go and move on to something else.

If the answer to that is “yes,” then congratulate yourself, reward yourself even, and then… move on. Time spent trying to perfect one thing is wasted, because it will never be perfect. Time spent moving on to something else that could also be good means there is that much more goodness in the world. Which sounds like a more rewarding path to follow?

And #2 is: Your chances of learning from an online course are minimal.

I have some unhappy things to say about [my current school]‘s determination to push Discussion Boards for their online classes. I’m currently taking my fifth and sixth online classes and for all of them we are, or have been, required to participate in weekly “discussions.” The teacher posts a topic or question, and students are not only required to respond to the teacher but are required to respond to a specific number of other student posts.

This is not good.

Reason #1: I will not learn anything. No, I will not. There’s a reason we’re the students… we don’t know this stuff. It’s why we’re taking the class, you know? Also, the majority of the other students are about one-third my age. Sad, but true. Which brings us to…

Reason #2: Following along with #1 above, the level of illiteracy this exercise exposes is… honestly, it’s horrifying. These are supposedly college-level courses (this is college, right? Right? Okay, just checking). Why, then, do so many posts read like they were dictated by texting thirteen year-olds?

Reason #3: It lets the professor off the hook. I paid upwards of $300 for this class — the teacher had better teach it. I’m here to learn, not to read misspelled ramblings from teenagers. Maybe my expectations of learning are — go ahead, say it! — old-fashioned, but I expect teachers to teach, and students to learn. Those are the roles.

Reason #4: Some teachers don’t know how to use the technology, even going so far as to admit, “I couldn’t get it to work.” In just two months I’ve had several instances of exams not being available as scheduled, due dates not posted, and assignments being handed out in incompatible formats. If you can’t get “it” to work, then you shouldn’t be in charge of “it.”

Reason #5. It’s unfair. A few weeks ago, an instructor required students to rate each others’ posts. I thought this was to let him/her see if we were actually paying attention to what we were reading. Wrong. It turned out that our grade for that week was determined by the other students’ ratings. In other words, people who can’t spell, can’t construct proper sentences and don’t know the material, actually determined my grade for the week — and they gave me, full disclosure, a “B.” I paid [my current school] $300+ so the instructor could let students do the grading? No. Just, no.

This worries me on a larger scale because the second part of my College Quest will be entirely online, though through a different school. Maybe I am, yes, old-fashioned. I thought the point of going to an institution of higher learning was to… learn. Not to regurgitate nonsense on a discussion board for other students to grade. I don’t know whether the fault ultimately lies with the individual instructors or with the institution creating the rules, but… there’s a lot of fault to go around.

There’s still five more days until they hand these suckers out, so I’m taking advantage of that.

After looking over my original list, I’m modifying three categories, as indicated by the purple below.

Picture: The Artist
Director: Michael Hazanavicius, The Artist
Actor: Jean Dujardin, The Artist
Actress: Viola Davis, The Help
Supporting Actor: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Supporting Actress: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Original Screenplay: Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris
Adapted Screenplay: Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, The Descendants
Foreign Language Film: A Separation
Animated Feature: Rango
Cinematography: The Tree of Life
Makeup: The Iron Lady
Art Direction: Hugo
Animated Short Film: La Luna
Documentary Feature: Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Documentary Short: The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom
Live Action Short Film: The Shore
Visual Effects: Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Costume Design: The Artist
Film Editing: The Artist
Sound Mixing: War Horse
Sound Editing: War Horse
Original Score: The Artist
Original Song: “Man or Muppet,” The Muppets

Originally I’d given both sound awards to Hugo, and original score to War Horse. Considering that The Artist is apparently nothing but music, it was a little stupid of me to give that award to any other film.

Meryl Streep winning the BAFTA for Best Actress may mean she has more support than I thought, but… on this one, I’m going both with my gut and with my heart. Viola for the win.

I spent my Sunday morning coffee finalizing my Oscar predictions for this year. It didn’t take more than one cup, because let’s face it… most of these are in the bag and have been for weeks. The top six awards are pretty much locks. Barring a mid-voting meltdown like the one that cost Russell Crowe his A Beautiful Mind Oscar, there’s not much these people can do to lose. Can we picture Viola Davis throwing a telephone at someone? No, we cannot.

Therefore, with no more delay, here they are:

Picture: The Artist
Director: Michael Hazanavicius, The Artist
Actor: Jean Dujardin, The Artist
Actress: Viola Davis, The Help
Supporting Actor: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Supporting Actress: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Original Screenplay: Woody Allen, Midnight in Paris
Adapted Screenplay: Alexander Payne, Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, The Descendants
Foreign Language Film: A Separation
Animated Feature: Rango
Cinematography: The Tree of Life
Makeup: The Iron Lady
Art Direction: Hugo
Animated Short Film: La Luna
Documentary Feature: Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory
Documentary Short: The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom
Live Action Short Film: The Shore
Visual Effects: Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Costume Design: The Artist
Film Editing: The Artist
Sound Mixing: Hugo
Sound Editing: Hugo
Original Score: War Horse
Original Song: “Man or Muppet,” The Muppets

If you’re so inclined, leave your own predictions in the comments and we’ll compare notes after the ceremony on February 26.

Hey, remember back in January when I wrote Stop Watching That Crap, about potential TV reboots in the works and what shitty ideas they all were?

Over at The Huffington Post, Evan Shapiro, president of IFC, just wrote along the same lines in his article, “Who Shot JR? Who Cares?” He, however, doesn’t just spout his opinions like I did. He actually has numbers — math! — to back himself up. And the numbers are… pretty shitty.

He writes:

Reheated leftovers send a message that our industry is out of ideas. Worst of all, it flies in the face of substantial, overwhelming and irrefutable data. By a factor of 6 to 1, remakes do not work.

Preach it, brother.