Curiuos life?--not so much

I feel compelled to take a break from the Mice shenanigans to put in my two cents on the movie: The curious life of Benjamin Button. I don't get out to see many movies, so, it is dissapointing when one falls very short of its hype. I have not read any reviews on it, but I am sure that there are plenty of people with the same observations as I.

First of all, anyone who has see it, will notice obvious comparisons to Forest Gump. The oft repeated line: "You never know what's comin' for ya." Is strikingly similar to Gump's: "Life is like a box of Chocolates-you never know what you're gonna get." Is it not? In fact the whole movie is kind of like a recycled Forest Gump. Only this time, its a strange child man--man child dude instead of a slow, child-man who falls ass backward into everything.

A lot of the movie didn't make a lot of sense either. Why is Benjamin born a baby who is old, and becomes an old looking child, and then at the end of his life he becomes a baby who is actually a normal looking baby. To be consistent shouldn't he have died a full grown man who looks like a baby? C'mon. Did they go over budget on the freaky special effects?

Then, later in the movie, after Benjamin has a child with his love, and they are happy--he decides the best thing to do is to abandon them. This is for their own good. What the hell? His reasoning it that he will be too young to raise the kid, and his true love will be saddled with two kids. But, in reality, Benjamin, who at the time is the same age as her, (around 40) will have many years to raise this kid. In fact, he has over 20 years as an adult while she grows up. Why couldn't he raise her? In another inexplicable scene, the now, adult daughter is visiting with her old and dying mother in the hospital. She finds a picture of the mother in her dancing attire. And, says this: "Mom, you never talked about your dancing." Her mother owned a dancing studio, for God's sake. I found myself getting really anrgy at this point in the movie, as I had already invested a couple hours.

Another problem, that only serves to make an already too long, film drag, even more, is that there were too many extranious characters. Sure, they were supposed to be colorfull, but, guess what? They weren't. And they didn't really have much significance to anything. The woman at the hotel--the guy who came and took him out when he lived at the retirement home. The story at the beginning of the guy with the clock. Do they have to beat us over the head with symbolism? What was that all about? Who cares?

I kept waiting for a pay off. I kept waiting to feel something--but, I never did. There were plenty of opportunities for the makers of this film to touch the audience, but they were lost in an overblown score of heart tugging music and a parade of lifeless characters. What left me most curious about Benjamin button, is why I wasted 7 bucks to see it.

There-I feel better now. Not that I couldn't have gone on as long as the actuall movie about all that was wrong with it. But, will restrain myself. This whole blog entree has made want popcorn.

By the way all pictures on this blog, unless photos , are my artwork.

Micecapades

Okay, after a couple days to rest the ol' wrists, I can continue the strange, but true story of My house guests--the deer mice. A unruly clan that took up residence in my basement last winter after my son broke out a window and nobody bothered to officially fix it. The piece of cardboard deftly stuck in, did not seem a formidable barrier for the ingenious , yet adorable, Deer Mouse.

Of, course at the time, I was unaware that I had to protect from these invaders, as I have never seen one around. Yet, last, Xmas, as I went down into the basement, (where everything unusable ends up for eternity) I noticed that the two bags of Chocolate coins that I had stashed amid other hidden Christmas gifts, were mysteriously missing. All, but for one strange piece of empty gold foil shell, that remained to mock me. "What the hell?" I asked myself. surely this is not the work of my kids. They are crafty enough, to dispose of ALL evidence of such a crime. Having lived in our home for close to two decades, and never seeing anything more than an occasional spider. My blame did not readily fall on anyone in the rodent family. But, then, I saw it. The tiniest of all calling cards from my wee vermin visitors. If I hadn't squinted--I wouldn't have seen it. The size of a poppy seed--a mouse dropping. Egads!!! But, I could not be sure. I could not definitively accuse an entire species of animal. So, I forgot about the incident with a bemused shrug.

Almost a year later, I was cleaning out some old clothing from some suitcases (on the other side of the basement, mind you.) When I unzipped a large plaid one-- I could not believe my eyes. Behold!! Before me-the entire cache of gold coin foils. amid a shredded sweater. I scratched my head. My previous suspicions now seemed confirmed. Yet I questioned myself. "How in the hell did they get these coins into this zipped suitcase? How did they drag over 20, rather large coins such a distance? (The equivelant of me hauling an unweildly chocolate filled Tobaggen a mile.) How did they so expertly peel the foil off of the chocolate? What else had they destroyed?" Yet how could I be mad at creatures that obviously understood about the joys of chocolate? I felt a pang of endearment. But, just as fast, a shudder of what would happen if my husband ever found out about my newly discovered, fellow chocoholics. .

The hard way

It's not that I like doing things the hard way--it's just that I always do. I've read that our attitudes determine our fate. Our thoughts make us who we are. Well, I don't remember sitting down one day to think: "I want to be racked with pain every day" Or "I wish my husband were a workaholic." Or "Man, it would be nice if mice took over my house." Yet, these things seemed to materialize in my life.

The mice. Oh, the mice. Cute little white footed, mice. I find it odd that these creatures, who spend the majority of their time ferreting out any morsel of food and any makeshift shelter, can not be content to live in a large, plastic aquarium, with three square meals a day--wih such delicacies as apples smeared with peanut butter, and 12 grain bread.

But, alas--they are not. From day one, when I caught the first of the tribe, they have waged rodent war against me. I would like to go into detail, but, I am afraid my tendons are hurting too much. Perhaps tomarrow. At the risk of being crude--Fibromyalgia sucks.

Nowhere but up

This is my first entry into the blogging world. My name is Marie Turco-Moslemian. I am a woman who is challanged everyday with the insults of Fibromyalgia. As an artist, it is ironic. As, the thing that I most enjoy, causes the most pain. I still play little tricks on myself, trying to outsmart the pain. I usually lose. In fact, even sitting in front of the computer to write this blog, will, undoubtedly cause a very unpleasant reaction. The painting on the left is an example of some of my art. But, we need to laugh through the pain.

Anyone who faces daily, physical challenges, knows that sometimes you just have to say: "What the hell."

They say that those with Fibromyalgia have overly sensitive nervous systems, and are higly sensitve in general. I tend to agree. Sometimes our sensitvity is a crushing weight. In the last few months, my house has become a haven for some adorable Deer mice. I love, animals of any ilk. With the weather being brutally cold, the mice caught in the humane traps, can not be safely released outside. I will write more about the fate if my sweet, but troublesome visitors. But, it is safe to say, that I have once again gone overboard in my rescuing behavior. This seems to be a common denomiator with poeple with fibromyalgia. We become overly involved with everyone and everything. But, some of the nicest people you will ever meet have this affliction. I hope to write some musings with this blog and I hope you enjoy them.