Thank Goodness for "Good Days"

Today is a good day. Not that every day isn’t or can’t be a good day (hurrah for double negatives!), but usually there are two or three days in a week that are especially pleasant. On those particular days, the sun shines a little bit brighter, people are slightly more sympathetic, and all the little things that a day is made up of are somehow more delightful. Today, I saw a row of trees with matching lichen, watched as neighbours helped each other shovel their walks, and walked down my old block, among other things. There’s nothing exceptionally remarkable about those things, but the small things in life are my favourite ones I think. It’s so cool to see how detailed God’s creation is, whether in the way that water sticks to itself when my spoon slithers in and out of it, or the amusement of moving my static-y hair from side to side. On good days, these little things are magnified. When Jess and I were younger, we had designated “good days.” Friday was always a good day, and then usually another day, made special by a new episode of Star Trek or a visit from Auntie Anne and Uncle Tim with Frosty Dairy Desserts (it was necessary to call them “Frosty Dairy Desserts” rather than Frosties; I was a highly snobby child). On these good days, we would save our best underwear, favourite brightly-coloured tights, and save one of Grandma’s famous buns to eat on that day. I like that we were able to appreciate how wonderful it was that even underwear could be cool, and that a fist-sized homemade bun could make one’s day. I hope I never grow out of getting excited over trivial things; I’m quite sure that my parents haven’t grown out of the fascination with small details (my mom shouts exclamations of joy when she sees anything in a shade of robin egg blue), but I think it’s very easy for life to become slots of time rather than an experience of God’s creation. Life’s a feast for the senses; we have five of them for a reason.

Onto an equally self-indulgent topic, last night was Oscars night, and as aforementioned, they were rather fantastic as usual. I read quite a few articles by disappointed journalists this morning, and it’s true that the 79th Academy Awards were deficient in politics and ridiculousness, but the awards themselves were decently allocated (especially because I won the prediction competition, a fact which I will savour rubbing in for at least a few weeks). I was slightly appalled by the fact that The Departed earned Best Picture Oscar, just as Brokeback’s loss last year was so inexcusable, but at least Martin Scorsese finally earned his little statuette, albeit entirely out of sympathy. Ellen was overall disappointingly unfunny, and although John C. Reilly, Will Ferrell, and Jack Black partially made up for this fact, Jon Stewart certainly outshone her last year. Pan’s Labyrinth deservedly won a number of Oscars, and the Mexican award-acceptors for the movie were excellently cute and Mexican. Not so cute at the awards last night was Jack Nicholson; he is a mainstay at the Oscars, with his trademark glasses and incredible amusement at everything, but it really is disarming to see him sans-hair. Jess and I used to listen to this tape of the story of the Elephant's Child when we drove to and from Vancouver, and Jack Nicholson voiced the story; I will forever think of him as the horrifying and murderous crocodile , and seeing him with a chrome dome makes him seem all the more creepy and crocodilish.


Also bizarre in the hair department was my beloved Philip Seymour Hoffman, who looked strikingly similar to me when I was 2 and combed Zincofax (diaper cream) all through my hair. I realize that actors are forced to tolerate strange hairstyles for film roles, but couldn’t he have washed his hair prior to walking the red carpet? As for all the acting awards, I think the Academy chose well. Alan Arkin was wonderful in Little Miss Sunshine, and my family said that Forest Whitaker was brilliant in Last King of Scotland. Jennifer Hudson is so very adorable and ingenuous, and Helen Mirren embodies the sort of older person I’d like to be: dignified and intelligent, yet still silly enough to ham it up with Jamie Foxx and Vince Vaughn. Peter Sarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhaal made an appearance at the awards, and not only was she wearing Proenza & Schouler (my favouritest designers of all), but they remain the cutest, smartest, and most likable celebrity couple of all. They're daughter Ramona Sarsgaard-Gyllenhaal is in very good hands. Perhaps my favourite moment of the night, next to the comedy musical, was Beyoncé's admirable attempt to appear not at all jealous of Jennifer Hudson; at one point, she had to sing the line "You're the best!" to J-Hud (as she is apparently now called), and her fake smile was so massive that I thought her lips might split in two. All in all, it was a first-rate night despite the group of us being tired for various reasons, namely returning from foreign countries, writing essays all weekend, and facing the grim prospect of school the next day.



Among the extraneous tidbits of my life, I miss reading week a wee bit. I slept 2 hours (a truly awful amount of time to sleep!) last night after editing my essay on the awfulness of racial profiling, and missed my first class due to issues with our upstairs printer, heretofore known as The Printer of Death. It was an interesting essay to research, and the issue has more complexity than I initially thought, but I’m glad to be done with reading about the horridness of American law enforcement and inherent Canadian racism. On a happy note, my gashed lip and toe from dancing are pretty much entirely healed, and I’ve missed not a single call on Owen since the weekend! Plus, I’m enjoying the spring cleaning that I did over reading week, despite the family room being taken over by Jess’ Rube Goldberg machine for Science Olympics. Her all-girl team is always really intense, and like to make all of their contraptions pink for some absurd reason; last year, they won the silver medal out of dozens of teams (they’re little mad scientists except with prettier hair). Jess recently got seriously gorgeous new glasses after Mitchell Buyer playfully threw his school bag at her face and broke her previous pair. They’re almost as cool as Jude Law’s specs in The Holiday.

Jess has also joined Facebook, which is really rather fun, except that she doesn’t quite understand how it works yet. I sent her a message days ago, she replied on her own wall (gasp!), and proceeded to simply delete her message. But basically this provides another opportunity for me to barrage Jess with my thoughts on various topics. The ability to tag her in pictures by which she is embarrassed is quite happifying as well. I’ve got a fun week of midterms ahead of me, so I should likely get to some reading and reviewing! Although I suspect that no amount of studying will help me with one Michael Snyder’s entirely capricious marking schemes (Betty and Nicole and I concur that he is certainly the worst professor we have ever encountered in our years at the University of Alberta; he derides refugees for pity’s sake). But studying does have its benefits, including the learning of strange terms, reason to create memory-aiding rhymes, and an excuse to do my laundry later on. I hope you're all having excellent Seasons of Lent; flowers and sunshine and Easter are just around the bend!