Everything's Coming Up Scorsese!

Martin Scorsese, who is probably my favourite director, has finally won a Best Director Oscar!

He's been nominated for Best Director five times:
2005 - The Aviator lost to Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood)
2003 - Gangs of New York lost to The Pianist (Roman Polanski)
1991 - Goodfellas lost to Dances with Wolves (Kevin Costner)
1989 - Last Temptation of Christ lost to Rain Man (Barry Levinson)
1981 - Raging Bull lost to Ordinary People (Robert Redford)

And, because lists are an easy way to populate your blog, here's a list of my top ten favourite movies, culled from my vote history at the IMDb:

1. Star Wars (1977)
2. Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
3. The Matrix (1999)
4. Shakespeare in Love (1998)
5. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
6. Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
7. Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
8. Reservoir Dogs (1992)
9. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
10. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

Average age: 17.7 years.

This list is a result of a hard-fought battle stretching over two days that left bloodied movie carcasses scattered about like victims in a gangland shooting. Hilariously, nothing came up Scorsese, but as with all things, this is subject to change. After all, I haven't yet had the chance to see Raging Bull, Citizen Kane, Children of Men, or Arthur and the Invisibles.

It was surprisingly difficult to narrow the list of my favourite films down to ten. The comments are open for anyone wanting to list their top ten.

No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded

Winter so far has been laying on the sofa like a lazy roommate, shifting position only to reach the TV remote control or scratch its ass through a terribly revealing hole in its underwear. But one Sunday at the end of January it was like Winter remembered it had a job to do, dammit, and manically tried to catch up for a whole season of slackness.

Winter storms seem to have the exact opposite effect on me than they do on everyone else. While most of the city hunkered down under blankets and in front of fireplaces, I convinced Tamara that we needed brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from Safeway. But it was Sunday, and even though I drove recklessly, Safeway was closed when we arrived. So then I convinced Tamara we needed to brave the treacherous streets and poor visibility to buy a few things from McDonald's.

There's a McDonald's about a block north of the Safeway we normally shop at, so really it was just a matter of crossing the street and getting into line at the drive-thru. The weather was getting increasingly miserable. I was pelted with snow when I rolled down my window, and sharp gusts of wind tore my order from my mouth. Somehow we managed to convince the attendant that we wanted a couple of cheeseburgers and some fries, and we crawled forward through the growing drifts to the drive-thru window.

The person in the car in front of us was paying with debit when an unruly blast of wind tore the card right out of her poor, freezing fingers. Because of her proximity to the wall, her passenger was the unlucky one who had to get out and look for the card. She looked under the car, around the wheels, cleared some of the snow away from the ground, but wasn't having much luck. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and the snow was beginning to cake in her hair as she continued her search.

And then suddenly, from nowhere, a hero emerged -- a tall, lanky young man in jeans and a blue parka. He came up from behind us, running past the drivers side of our car, pausing only long enough to grab something by our front tire before continuing on to the car at the front. One there he handed the wayward card back to its owner, stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, and ran back against the wind to the comfort of his vehicle. The driver paid for her food, successfully this time, and the line advanced forward.

When we got to the window, I asked the attendant how much the order was for the people behind us. "$6.73," she replied. "Okay," I said, "we want to pay for theirs too."

"You want to pay for the people behind you?"

"That's right. Let them know it's because he got out to get that girl's card."

We drove away with big smiles on our faces. It was still cold outside, but I hope this helped to warm him up a little.

Zen and the Art of Street Crossing

When I was a kid, I got it into my head one day that I should cross the street without looking. More important to this story, I thought crossing the street without looking was a skill -- like swimming -- that could be acquired and refined. I imagined amazing people with my street crossing prowess -- throngs of gaping people watching in awe as I crossed the street heedless of traffic and arrived safely on the other side.

With images of cheering crowds firmly planted in my mind, I set out to practice. My practice, of course, was short lived: a mere three crossings before I was nearly run down by a very angry woman in a very big car. I was able to scamper off into my grandparents' back yard to avoid further embarrassment.

This is one of my favourite stories because it's so outlandish. Who would think crossing the street without looking was a learnable skill? That it should be practiced? I qualified for Mensa, fer crissake.

Had I lived to 80, I never would have believed that this would have some kind of practical import:

In my hotel room there was a little guidebook. The first point in the "Things not to do in Vietnam" list reads: When crossing the street, do not change your speed of pace, do not run, do not step backwards.

I took this advice to heart, and I must tell you, I have never had a more Zen-like experience than crossing the street in Vietnam. Motorbikes and cars zipping past you in all directions and on all sides, but all flowing around you and around each other with a remarkable peacefulness. In North America I would have been scared shitless. Here, I was not worried for a moment. I can only describe it as "moving meditation".

Thanks, Ryan. You just made my childhood that much less ridiculous.