Today was a self-decreed mental health day. I'd like to tell you that I spent the day eating chocolate and watching trashy TV. I'd like to tell you that I read a book. Or a newspaper. I'd like to tell you that I meditated and became one with my inner whatsits.
I bulldozed TinyTunas bedroom. I carted memories to the basement. I hauled a carload of memories to the local charity. I laundered and dusted and vacuumed and straightened and organized. When TinyTuna saw her room, she cried. Fortunately, they were happy tears.
As I waded in the never-ending stream of unfolded laundry and lonely socks, I watched The Story of the Weeping Camel, which has been nominated for Best Documentary category. Technically it's called a "narrative documentary" -- meaning, real people portray themselves in a story inspired by their lives. The story itself is very simplistic: Set in the Gobi desert, it follows a family of nomadic herders. Within their herd, a newborn camel is rejected by its mother. Two brothers set off to bring back a musician who will play a song in hopes of bringing about a close encounter of the camel kind.
That's about it. No, actually, that IS it.
Now, I'm all for documentaries, and I love foreign films. But this thing moved about as slowly as you could move. It's slice of life film, to be sure, but keep in mind, I just told you the ENTIRE story. Although it runs a scant 87 minutes, it felt like from here to eternity. I can't really say the movie was "bad" -- it was just nowhere as good as I was expecting it to be.
In other news, someone asked about MY Oscar picks. Well, the answer is "too early to say." I'm trying to get a few more movies under my belt before I construct my Oscar dartboard and make up all my answers. I worked in the movie theatre biz for a long time (once upon a time a long time ago), and I remember fondly getting the annual "Handicapping the Oscars" publication. We used to go through that thing with a fine-tooth comb, reading all the statistics for the various categories. It's a science, you know! Then we'd just guess anyway, and hope that somebody else was dumber than we were.
In other other news, I was asked about my secrets regarding sucky television. Specifically, sucky kid-centric television. I don't have any concrete answers here. All I can say is that I have enjoyed a couple of inexplicable parenting victories. The first was successfully convincing TinyTuna for the first 9 years of her life that she HATED gum. Sadly, she finally figured out that wasn't the case. The second victory I can claim is in the TV department. TinyTuna has so little time to sit down and watch, that it isn't as much of a battle as it could be. (Oh, and she is also one of those poor unfortunates that has no television in her room. Nope. Not gonna happen). Plus, for a long long long long time, her choices were: PBS or ... PBS. That was it. No discussion. No argument. Now that she's ten, she does make it around the dial a bit more often. I have relented with Scooby-Doo reruns, but that's about it. I'm not anti cartoon -- I'm anti bad cartoons, and bad animation. I've also come up with a bit of a compromise. I have DVDs of Loony Tunes (uncut classics) and Rocky & Bullwinkle. It's been great fun "educating Tuna".
That being said, it's time to put this Mental Health patient to bed. Tomorrow is another day.