There was decent character development, and the scenes addressing the repressed emotional baggage of Cusack's character served as excellent breaks between freaky bits, and it kept things feeling fresh. A good way to spend an evening.
I had a big pretzel with salt and cheese. Normally, if I ever get a pretzel, I get just the core, unadorned bread thing, but I felt like being conventional last night, since I was seeing a relatively normal movie in a decidedly normal theatre. I didn't even mind the people talking during the movie, not even the girl behind me who saw to heralding much of the movie's plain visual statements ("He's still in the room!", "It's her!", "A thermostat."). I guess I just wanted to enjoy the sort of night of entertainment modern humanity and commercialism had prescribed for the average citizen. Well, I guess I just wanted to give my brain a rest, since I'd been working on three different projects yesterday and I am simply not built for multitasking. I know it's a stereotype that girls are better at multitasking than guys, and I'm afraid I fit the bill. Multitasking gives me a feeling of dizzy panic, like a neanderthal piloting a spitfire. I guess I did get some things done, but such days never feel very productive.
In what was probably a malevolent moment of serendipity, I saw an article this morning on msn about working as a comic book artist that mentioned how artists are typically paid between 100 and 300 dollars a page. This immediately filled my head with stupid fantasies--like, if my 23 page comic is accepted, I could expect at least 2,300 dollars? That probably sounds like small potatoes to most people, but I never dreamed of earning that much money. I have got to get my hopes down . . .