An Ordinary Man

Better than Santa Claus. Paul Rusesabagina, the man upon whose experiences the film "Hotel Rwanda" is based, came and spoke at the BYU forum this morning. I was lucky enough to be able to get on the floor, as opposed to the bleachers, and shake hands with him after his address.

The title of this post is the name of the book he wrote, which I guess was not nearly as popular without Don Cheadle , and I assure you, that is an honest assessment of himself. Before you take that comment the wrong way let me add that his plainness of speech and timid manner in relating to the horde that wished to shake his hand was what really drove the whole message of his speech home. Moreover, I was extremely touched by his example as he sang the opening hymn in that very foreign setting, without a hint of guile in his eyes. He was not trying to impress anyone, but he certainly did.

He was most insistent that he was not a hero. He merely said that the situation was unbelievably unfortunate and he had no choice but to rise to the occasion. May I view my struggles the same way. May we all. You're the best. Paul included.

(On an unrelated note, Austin and I have been saying his last name with addict glee. Try it.)

We Got Another One Playa

This one is dedicated exclusively to people watching in Provo. Set up by Smith and allegedly featuring commentary by a good cross-section of folks. Or maybe just the roommates. Either way, it can't go too far wrong. It's a town full of loons. So I hope you all enjoy this. All six of you.

You(six people)'re the best.


I don't know that those links worked. The sites I tried to put up were these.

DavidSmithsBlog.Blospot.Com - Self Explanatory.

ThisJustHappened.Blogspot.Com - The Newbie. Hit it.

Little Ol' Hypocritical Me

Presently, I am enrolled in American Heritage in the BYU Salt Lake Center to fulfill the requirement with as little effort as possible (And I do mean presently. I am in class right now). The only real strain is getting up here once a week to listen to the ravings and jabberings of an old and pre-senile man that wears winter gloves because he had a surgery which requires his commitment to sterile hands. Right on brother. Maroon is a good color on you.

Enter the carpool. I, despite my relatively comfortable manner in living rooms full of friends, am really quite shy. In an attempt to avoid announcing my desire to save gas to the whole group, I just turned to my right on the first day here and asked the boys that were sharing a headset to watch "Ratatouille" if they would be interested in setting up a carpool. Big mistake.

The one directly to my right was an APX alarm representative. He didn't even have to say it. His smug transparency was a dead give-away. It wasn't the fact that he sat on his ipod touch giggling away just loud enough for people around him to notice him or the fact that tonight he asked everyone in the car to stop talking so he could call the Utah Jazz dancer whose number he managed to procure after a game where some "connection" of his bought him 800 dollar front row seats. Those did bother me, don't get that twisted, but it wasn't the worst. The worst of it was that I found myself jealous of him.

Not the Jazz dancer, necessarily, but the money. I want it in a way I don't like. I want a Burberry suit. I want a Porsche. I want to drop out of school and be an eccentric, brilliant young investor who hob-knobs with, like, the guy who merged Daimler and Chrysler. That appeals to me, sadly.

And as I sat there dreaming of all the things I could do and have if I could just talk myself into putting families in debt like "Johnny" (For real. Fake tan too. Love him.) I tuned back in to what was being said for a second. The boy had begun bad mouthing missionary work. He was sarcastically picking apart the day-to-day struggles of an Elder in the field. It was all the reminder I needed, that I'm really doing a great job at living.

I may make a fortune. I may not. It won't matter. There are greater things I am involved in than multi-level mania. For now I think I will stick to those. That's what I'm good at.

Aaaand...

You're the best.

There Might Be Blood

This isn't going to become a movie-centric blog, I promise. I have just been waiting for P.T. Anderson's new joint to come out for a really long time and Utah seems to always make it dead last in the Limited Release circuit.

If you have never seen one of his movies I don't think I would recommend going it alone. They are all over the place and typically have something pretty offensive in them that serves a symbol for something else. He has done Boogie Nights, Punch-Drunk Love and my personal favorite, Magnolia. That one is tremendous.

Anyway, I was just feeling frustrated because I'm not terribly intrigued by either the new chipmunks movie or Walk Hard. Call me crazy.

You're the best.

AVP: Requiem For A Franchise

We have no cure for cancer, AIDS, or the common cold, yet, The Brothers Strause were able to procure a handsome budget for themselves to put together this milestone. Something is off kilter.

I have seen four movies, in the theater, this break. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, I'm Not There, Juno and (the cherry on top) Alien V. Predator: Requiem. Of the four, Juno is the only tolerable one although, as a good friend pointed out, it is painfully self-aware. Maybe you view this as a good thing, I'm not sure. Either way, I found it an amusing observation since self-reflection is the hallmark of so many things which are labeled "indie" these days.

Anyway, back to AVP. I can appreciate a film that strives for story over plot more than anyone that I know personally. However, this film scarcely followed a sequence at all. It plays out very much like a first-person-shooter video game, except not as well directed. There are vague details that get you loosely from scene A to scene B but the real point was the gore. Which was also not compelling.

It was shot almost entirely at night which I think the young directors may have tried to pass off as a visual tensor that could add suspense. However, this was the only card they were holding. Beyond the fact that you couldn't see what was coming next (at least with your eyes) there was nothing to make this movie frightening.

There was also an attempt at social commentary which, when it is used well, can be a powerful tool. No such luck with these guys. There was one line that sort of rings in the ears long after it is said as you try to sort through the bad acting commingled with personal opinion and the internal witch hunt for what the writer was possibly thinking when he wrote it. The line is, "But the government doesn't lie to people". It is said with naive certainty by a woman who later dies when the United States Air Force drops a NUCLEAR BOMB on her town for the purposes of "containment". I suppose the writer just picked a place he had never heard of when he was thinking of a secluded location. But I have been to Gunnison, Colorado. Four times. They have a UNIVERSITY there. A stellar choice by the same man who brought you the screenplay for the remake of Shaft. His name is Shane Salerno. He is the Anti-Kaufman.

Excessive pretension aside, I was entertained. I went with my dad and brother-in-law and we laughed about it all the way home. I predict we will laugh about it for a good long time. So it didn't go to The Red Cross but was our money really entirely wasted? Maybe not. And that will have to be good enough, because we can't unsee that horrid film.

You're the best.

If you are interested in my assessment of any of the other movies, just ask.
Also, I have a bad looking new haircut due to a reckless barber(ian) and I have put on an obnoxious amount of weight in this town in an attempt to stave off boredom. Cheers team.