Movie Night: Flubber

Year: 1997

Director: Les Mayfield

Production Company: Walt Disney Pictures

Leads: Robin Williams, Marcia Gay Harden, Christopher McDonald

Little Satis was in a bad mood the other night, so I went on Netflix in search of Robin Williams. Nothing cheers me up like Williams, but unfortunately Netflix is a bit devoid of decent films these days. They do have Good Morning, Vietnam and Good Will Hunting, but I think Little Satis is just a touch too young for those movies. This left us with Jumanji, which we’ve already seen, Hook, and Flubber. We should have gone with Hook, but I recalled the slapstick of Flubber and thought it would please an eleven-year-old.

The gags come off feeling a little tired and recycled.

I wasn’t wrong, but we were both left feeling slightly empty at the end of it all, despite the chuckles and giggles. Flubber is a remake of the 1961 The Absent-Minded Professor, also by Disney, and whilst I’m usually a stickler for watching the originals first, Netflix didn’t have it, and as I mentioned above, I really just wanted Robin Williams. It follows the story of a … well … absent-minded professor who invents a substance that gains kinetic energy from kinetic energy (i.e. the more you bounce it, the more it bounces). It’s hardly a ground-breaking plot, but I can’t help feeling that more could have been done with it. After all, such an invention in real life would change the world.

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Daily Photo: February 27, 2012

Montclair war memorial.

This is a war memorial in a park in Montclair, New Jersey. It almost looks like a reflection in a pond.

Camera: Apple iPhone 4S          ISO: 64          Focal Length: 4mm          Aperture: ƒ/2.4          Shutter Speed: 1/1972

Tales of Despair: Scars and Scratches

I have alluded to this many times in the course of this blog (in fact, I’ve probably outright stated it before), but I used to self-harm. For the peace of mind of Mrs. Satis, who sometimes reads these posts, I should state that I haven’t lifted a blade to hurt myself in over ten years; in fact, I stopped around when we met, and partly because of her. But there was a time in my life when cutting my skin was an enormous part of my identity, and I of course bear the scars (both physical and emotional) to this day.

I’m not ‘better’, and I doubt I ever will be.

There’s a wide range of reasons why people hurt themselves, and just as wide a variety of methods. From cutting to burning to starving oneself (Princess Diana once said she used to throw herself down stairs), self-harm can often be an outward reflection of the emotional pain someone is enduring every day. It’s often associated with suicide ideation, but I don’t think that’s quite fair; the people who hurt themselves (myself included) might often dream of and think of ending their lives, but the harm itself is born out of a burning desire not to die, but to feel alive. Although it might not look (or feel) like it, self-harm is usually topical and superficial, leaving little lasting harm. My deepest scars are not on my wrists; they’re on my upper arm, a fleshy place that was easy to cut deep without doing serious damage.

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