Good Bye Peter F. Drucker

Peter Drucker died on Friday, November 11. Being the self-absorbed and trivial person that I was on Friday, I didn't read the news so I am a little late in my comments. His passing is a sad moment for management everywhere as he was truly one of the great minds of modern business.

I began reading Drucker in earnest last year and his accessible style and reasonable arguments resonated with me. He made me think that there could be a place for me in management theory afterall. Drucker is known for always being ahead of his time, but to me, his greatest contribution is never letting us forget that business is essentially about people. He was a supporter of the non-profit sector and believed that many of the best lessons could be learned from this arena. He was the first to recognize the advent of the "knowledge worker" that we know take as a given.

A CBC article on his passing presented the following:
Drucker viewed management as an art. "It deals with people, their values, their growth and development, social structure, the community and even with spiritual concerns ... the nature of humankind, good and evil."
It is for these beliefs, those so close to mine in many ways, that he will be remembered.

Raindrops on Roses...

...and whiskers on kittens...
In light of my current affliction with the following:
the toncilitis/strepe/flu bug (blocked ears and white tongue included)
the procrastination bug
the "why doesn't he call?" bug
the blocked brain bug
the super-sore-muscles bug
the fear of the future bug
AND
the November blahs bug
I thought I would list some of the things that are my favourite at the moment.
... the Halifax Alehouse (its not called the "tale (tail) house" for nothing)
... 3am slices from Pizza Corner and the easy walk home
... shopping with Tanya (here we come "no tax" thursday!)
... $2 rye and gingers
... varsity football
... "Grey's Anatomy" on Sunday nights
... the fall leaves whipping in the air and crunching under my feet
... being captain of the MBA Games volleyball team (we rule!)
... living in residence (SO convenient)
... zip-front rayon cardigan sweaters (my new addiction)
... that cheesy (yet catchy) J.D. Fortune/INXS tune
... chai lattes from caffe ristretto
... cheap, yet succulent, pan-fried haddock
... knowing the answer more often than not
... being able to wear a belt again
... talking hot cars with Jman (he's getting good stuff now!)
... mini-videos of my nephew (he recently discovered helium balloons!)
... my sister-in-law (for keeping me sane)
... my duvet
... the bathtub - thank god my apt. has one or I would be worse off than I am!

Half- Full? ... Feeling Half-Empty

So I slept in today and missed two classes. I missed two classes that I was prepared for and had assignments to hand in - both of which were complete. But I missed them. Stuck in my REM and duvet-comfiness and not out of bed on time. I am hitting the November wall. That moment near the end of the semester when everything is painful, everything is a chore, everything is something from which to hide. Time to turtle.

In truth, school is the least of my concerns. I am actually doing quite well when I can channel my focus and produce. What I am most concerned with is myself. I appear to be floating in a realm of disconnectedness lately that is frustrating. Every day that goes by I feel less and less sure of my life direction. With each moment I find myself more unsure of what I should be doing, where I should go, how the hell I am going to get anywhere.

I feel that my life is coloured in shades of Ryerson all over again - and that makes me afraid. I don't want to lose myself in the sea of stimulation again so that I cannot find my identity or keep myself under control. I don't want to wait out my weeks until the weekend when I can use social oblivion to heal all wounds. I want to feel satisfied ... I want my contentedness back.

There is much going on these days. My cousin who is sick and has to face some major challenges and I feel far away and helpless to console her. My friends who recently announced that they are expecting their first child and I realize how far away I am from anything remotely that spectacular. My confusing interest in someone and the angst it brings despite my best attempts at clarity. My recent realizations that I don't have a lot of "real life" experience in SO many ways that I feel small and unprepared and, at the same time, tired of "hiding" in school.

I know navel-gazing and self-indulgent posts like this are a pain. It's really just that time of the month ... welcome to November.

Happy Halloween

I haven't really gone out for Halloween in almost 10 years. This year I had a party AND a pubnight to enjoy. So here are the some of the finer moments of the evening. Cheers to Jen & Mat for the excellent party. Props to Tanya - who NEVER dresses up - but made the best devil evah!









It was a wild night that included tasty jello shots, lotsa dancing, a spilled drink (at least I was wearing black!), a random 2am dog-walking, a casual mis-step, tasty creme de menthe & bailey's shots, good photos thanks to Carmen, a couple of priests, a geek, an indian and the ghostbusters, more blank spots in the memory than I would like, and a generally fabulous time!!

The Morning After

My nephew doesn't know this yet - as he poses in his first Halloween costume - but one day he will have to do the "walk of shame" post-Halloween party. Today is possibly the prettiest day of the month and I spent most of it in bed. That was, of course, after I got home from the bed I had been crashing in thanks to some friend hospitality and the fact that my drunk self was being sorta demanding about the sleeping arrangements.

And then, I had to arise this morning and take stock of the damage. My dark gothic eye makeup smeared around my eyes that made them sticky and hard to open. My rats nest of hair dried out on hairspray. My tragic (and fake) red nails, two missing and one broken to ragged bits. I was definitely not a prize. But a quick cleanup made most of that presentable. Until the walk home.

There is nothing like sauntering down the sun-dappled street in a black mini-dress and high-heeled boots at 11am. Thank goodness I had my sweater or it could have been completely undecent. And then, as I am entering my residence, on this lovely sunday morning I pass by a group of people enjoying a coffee break in the hallway. I pass the children with their toys, the parents with their coffee, and the NUN with her air of morality. What a way to start the day.

But I really cannot complain. It was daylight savings afterall, and I got an extra hour of sleep!

An Unfinished Life - movie review

It has been sitting on a shelf at a studio for almost two years waiting for the "right" time to be put on the market. Perhaps the studio was waiting for the media hurricane that is JLo to dissipate before it released the film. So now that all her private business is finished, we get An Unfinished Life to enjoy.

The film is a collection of life stories that have stalled. Revolving around the angry Einer (played by Robert Redford) we are treated to three intertwined histories that need to be reconnected for their futures to begin. Redford is his usual exceptional self. There is a reason the man is a screen legend. He has such a powerful presence and his grizzled visage is perfect for a man who (he believes) has lost everything. His low, judging tone delivers every word with meaning and makes his journey back to life a believable one. Morgan Freeman plays his best-friend - ravaged by an unfortunate attack - who sees everything with a clarity the others have forgotten. If Redford is pessimism incarnate - it is Freeman who offers the counter balance. It doesn't get much better than the exchanges between the two.

And then there is Jennifer Lopez. Taking on another battered-woman role, Lopez delivers a solid performance here. The subdued nature of the film constrains any cheesiness she may have delivered and she holds her own against the men. The role, sadly, is a thankless one that could have delivered by any actress - but it's nice to see Lopez away from the fluff. The supporting cast includes an exceptional Camryn Manheim; a beautiful (oh my god he's stunning!) Josh Lucas who obviously took the bit-part role to get some facetime with Redford; a sleaze-oozing Damian Lewis; and another (Alison Lohman-style) ingenue named Becca Gardner who is passable but hardly a standout.

Unfinished is a Lasse Halstrom affair and it shows. The man who brought us Chocolat, The Cider House Rules, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, and The Shipping News is a master of building the deliberate atmosphere's of small towns. This offering is no acception as the the sun-drenched mountain valley of Wyoming (actually BC) is developed as a character unto itself. As well, the script carries relevant references (the Stampede) and moments (Redford & Freeman's characters play crib together) to convincingly capture the western lifestyle. The one complaint is the bear theme that is shoved SO strongly down one's throat as to make one scream "enough!" This admission that the audience may not be bright enough to understand the device is insulting an the film would be better served if this element had been employed on the subtle side.

Overall, Unfinished is well-served by its delayed release. It is a solid journey into the lives of its characters. It moves slow like the sun across the hills and as it reaches into the shadows it reveals warmth and opportunity.

Two for the Money - movie review

The only thing worth betting on in Two for the Money is that Matthew McConnaughy is devasting without his shirt on. That one moment all women wait for in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days is repeated - more than once - here. And thank goodness for that because without the M.M. hotness, there would be little to sustain this one-note flick.

Money is inspired by the story of Brandon who ruins his knee in the big game in highschool and loses his "window" for glory in pro football. After years of getting by as a 900-number recorder still living with his mom, he is recruited by Pacino's betting-line guru. The pair take the tips-hotline business to new heights thanks to the on-the-money picks of Brandon that keep the gambling fish on the line. And then, of course, it all goes wrong.

The film losing its momentum about half-way through as though its not sure of where it wants to go or what is wants to say. As the relationship between the two leads evolves, Pacino's character is revealed to be an incomprehensible destructive force, and McConnaughy's Brandon falls too easily into the temptations. There are shades of The Devil's Advocate here but, thankfully, Pacino chews a bit less of the scenery. He does, however, set his protege up for failure more than he supports him and the dysfunctionality of the pair is palpable. The two are anchored by the presence of Rene Russo as Pacino's wife who acts as a trident for the former and a conscience for the latter. It is an unsual and flawed role that, like many things in the film, is never fully articulated.

Director D.J. Caruso has a film history of flawed individuals hoping for peace of mind (Taking Lives, The Salton Sea) and once again Money attemps to redeem itself by redeeming its characters. But by the end, the film has long-been scratched as a winning bet. A slow, muddled mid-section is tiresome and the final triumph is overly convenient. The film could have been a solid character study but it gets busy trying to play the game of mainstream cliches and never really scores

Elizabethtown - movie review

I recently read the Fametracker Fame Audit for Cameron Crowe and was disappointed to see his films criticized cause, frankly, I've always been a Crowe fan. But then I went to see Elizabethtown (that I had been waiting for!) and it all fell apart. Elizabethtown is a mess.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly where the film suffers most. It never feels pulled together in any solid way, and because of its haphazzard structure, there is no emotional pull. And a lack of emotion in a film about relationships, loss, and overcoming failure is not a good thing. It's easy to see what Crowe wants you to feel and there is an obvious father-son motif being pushed but it feels empty all the same. Scenes, that are evocative in isolation, are hobbled together into a clashy patchwork of life moments. Now, this is nothing new for Crowe. His ability to capture such "moments" is one of the things I love about him; but this time around his seams are flawed.

My other issue with the film is the casting of Kirsten Dunst. As a character that can only be described as ODD (lest stalker be used instead!), she is completely unreal. There is nothing about Dunst that makes her magnetic or intriguing in this role and I couldn't help but wonder what Bloom's Drew was drawn to in the end. The almost-romance is frustrating and forced and the chemistry is non-existent. Dunst may be looking to save the drowning Drew but you never really understand WHY she likes this guy so much and because of that, its hard to buy her interest in the early stages. Then again, her interest is so intense as to be almost creepy sometimes.

And then there is Bloom. My interest in seeing this flick was sparked by one moment in the trailer when he offers a look that sticks with me today. Sadly, that moment isn't in the final cut of the film and with its absence, so too is the soul of Drew's character. He floats through the picture as if the activities have nothing to do with him. He is so detached for so long that by the time his crisis release arrives you hardly care anymore. This is a shame, because Bloom does a great job of giving us angry-sadness.

The film has some strong points -those "moments" I mentioned but even they seem cut from the cloth of Crowe's previous work. An all-night phone conversation between Dunst and Bloom smacks of the Cruise/Cruz affair in Vanilla Sky. The film's opening monologue and mentor introduction is all Jerry MacGuire. And Dunst's voice over for the (crammmed in and incongruent) road trip feels all too Penny Lane. Even Crowe's usual panache for using music effectively falls short here and becomes as contrived as the story he is trying to tell.

The one bright spot is Judy Greer - who in three small scenes manages to capture true emotion. If more of the players in Elizabethtown took cues from her, maybe it would have been a place worth the visit.