One writer's attempts to come to terms with real life.
In the fog, everything is muffled.
Sense is dulled. There is no sight, nor smell, nor taste, nor hearing. There is only touch, smooth, glorious touch that reaches with curling tendrils to brush the skin of your face, your neck, your arms, your legs.
In the fog, we are alone.
Alone but for the swirling eddies that dance naked about our ankles, the white blackness that encompasses everything, touches everything.
Everything.
It's like an echo.
Silent.
Still.
...You merely have a new way of looking at them.
Also, I am now the proud and ecstatic owner of all seven seasons of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". YAY.
Cassandra: everytime you have "TDK" up as an away, my first thought is "The Dark Knight", not taikwon do
Cassandra: I wonder if that makes me obsessed. ^_^
Andy: Except it's
Andy: TKD, not TDK
Cassandra: oh, snap. that's right
Cassandra: I'm dyslexic now, too >.<
Andy: xD
Andy: ODD
Andy: Obsessive Dyslexic Disorder
Andy: Definition: A disorder in which an obsession is so intense that it causes the sufferrer to become dyslexic
Here it is, folks. The much-anticipated movie review from yours truly. (Spoilers, obviously.)
First off, it was fun... only because I was with friends and making obnoxious comments. I hope I pissed people off. I usually don't talk in movies (in fact, I despise people who do), but this opportunity was way too good to pass up. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
On to the movie. I rated it a 3 on imbd.com. Out of 10. It truly was awful. The acting was mediocre, the special effects were horrible, the cinematographer must have been on crack (I got a headache from the blurs and the constant circular panning of the camera. Seriously, what...?). Really the only thing that saved it were the particular attractiveness of some of them... seriously, Carlisle, Jacob (except for the hair, ew), James (*swoon*). Alice and Esme were adorable, and Victoria was drop-dead gorgeous. Very beautiful people working on a crap-tastic movie. Go out and watch it, seriously. My snark cannot fully express how awful the special effects were. I was waiting for the point where Edward shows Bella what his skin does in the sunlight.... *shudder*. Oh, it was gross. It looked to me like he was not sparkling, but rather sweating radioactive material.
The only reason I didn't give it a 1 or a 0 out of ten were these: the baseball scene was rather well done, the actor portraying Charlie Swan, Bella's father, was actually quite decent and gave the character some depth (there is a scene where he is cleaning a shot gun and Bella informs him that she has a date with Edward. The few seconds that follow are kick ass.). Also, in the ballet studio, Alice gets a kick-ass moment of her own in the form of violently snapping James' neck. It was quite glorious.
All in all... if you're looking for some good times and laughs with some friends, I advise you go and see it. If you're looking for a quality movie, however... spare yourself the time and wasted braincells and go see something intelligent instead.
...from laughing til I cry, that is. Oh, Twilight, how you fill me with amusement and create the fodder for perhaps the most epic conversation ever had.
Never again will I be able to use the words "lazy", "imprint", and "venom" without snickering.
I'm planning on seeing the movie this afternoon with some friends, and I think I'm going to enjoy making fun. More on that later.
Post number 147, ah!
Also:
Matt (10:23:44 PM): "I actually did have a dream after Twilight was finished of Edward coming to visit me — only I had gotten it wrong and he did drink blood like every other vampire and you couldn't live on animals the way I'd written it. We had this conversation and he was terrifying.''"
Cassandra (10:24:19 PM): what the fuck is this woman [Stephenie Meyer] on?
Matt (10:24:37 PM): Mormonism
Matt (10:24:41 PM): and her dreams
Matt (10:24:44 PM): sparklies
Cassandra (10:24:44 PM): works for me
Matt (10:24:45 PM): glitter
Cassandra (10:24:59 PM): I mean.... what.....
Cassandra (10:25:03 PM): *shakes head*
Cassandra (10:25:07 PM): all right, here it comes.
Cassandra (10:25:09 PM): ready?
Cassandra (10:25:15 PM): ready?
Matt (10:25:25 PM): maybe?
Cassandra (10:25:32 PM): ahem.
Cassandra (10:26:02 PM): I hereby officially renounce Twilight and the crackhead Stephenie Meyer.
I was looking at The Catcher in the Rye earlier for a Creative Writing project due on Friday, and it sort of provided me the impetus to write this.
I've had the thoughts swimming lazily around in my head for the past couple of days, and, while I absolutely adore the book (seriously, it's one of my favorite books ever), I feel the need to disagree with Mr. Holden Caulfield about innocence.
Holden is all about preserving innocence. That much is evident, even if you didn't have to write a paper about it in high school like I did. It's a worthy cause, but at the same time, utterly pointless and futile. Which I guess is the point of the book, but I digress.
When one thinks of the word 'innocence', does one get a good feeling, or a bad one? What are the connotations associated with the word? Generally speaking, it's good across the board. All babies and butterflies and rainbows. Everything perfect and as it should be.
But innocence is deceptive and fragile. Perhaps that is all the more reason to protect it, to guard it and keep it safe. Fair enough. But I have to ask you something... why?
It's come to my attention that innocence, though continually played as beautiful and wonderful and glorious... is really not all that it is cracked up to be. In fact, I'm going to be so bold as to say that innocence is really nothing but trussed up ignorance. I mean.... what separates the two? Where does one end and the other begin? They're just basically shades of the same thing.
And, call me a jaded college student (you won't be too far off) but I'd rather know than remain innocent. Because, really, if you think about it... when, in the long run, has ignorance ever been real bliss?
Just something to think about. Thanks for reading.
If this doesn't tug on them, well......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ChanTFSmqao
In other news, I'm about to hit 15,000 words for NaNo. :)
Warning: I'm feeling very Lady Chatterley's Lover-esque, and as such, I'm going to be flowery but frank. (You'll get what I'm talking about if you ever read it. Which I highly recommend you do, it's one of my favorites.) As such, this entry could offend you. Mostly, I like to think of it as inspiring, and hopefully it will be. That said, proceed at your own comfort.
As you may or may not be aware (depends on how long you've been following me on this blog) last winter I got hit very hard with a bout of chronic depression. I've since become convinced I've got something called Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD for short. (Ha. Don't you love the acronym?) I was convinced that going to a new school, and being freed from all the left over high school angst from last year was going to make it better this year, but, unfortunately, I don't think that's the case. It's hit pretty hard and fast (crying for 3 times in the span of less than 30 hours?) and I'm still trying to deal, get back in the rhythm of it, if that makes sense.
Feeling a little better, but still rather dismal, lamenting the fact that my eyes were all puffy from the aforementioned crying before sleep, I stepped into the shower this morning, blasting Coldplay to keep my mind off of things. It didn't really work, but who's to say I didn't try? When the scalding water finally got to be a bit too much and the steam was giving me trouble breathing, I stepped out and opened the door of my bathroom. The music was still playing, but everything else was silent. I love when I'm home alone.
As I toweled off, I thought about possibly going for a walk; it was still pretty early, the sun wouldn't be too hot, and I know now that exercise is good for alleviating depression. As I was making up my mind, I looked into the mirror and paused.
Who was this girl in the mirror? She was... beautiful.
Now, I'm not trying to be narcissistic. I've always had trouble with my self-image from as far back as I can remember. But as I looked in the mirror, I couldn't really look away. Maybe it was the wet hair draped over the right shoulder, curling already. Maybe it was the eyes that weren't so red and puffy or accompanied by those tell-tale dark circles from not getting enough sleep. Who knows, maybe it was just because I wasn't wearing my glasses, and couldn't immediately see the problems that constantly bother me about my appearance. But for whatever reason, standing there in front of the mirror with freshly washed hair, bare breasts and arms at my side naturally, I thought of myself as beautiful.
I'm not perfect. Far from it. But I once wrote something in one of my longer stories that I'm rather proud of that I wanted to bring to your attention. I'm of the belief that beauty is subjective, or, in the eye of the beholder. But, perhaps some things are just inherently beautiful, and it just takes us longer to realize this. Beauty should never be equated with perfection, because there is no such thing. It's in the flaws that we find meaning and resonance, something to cling to. So, here's the little tidbit I wanted to share with you:
"Perhaps...perhaps beauty was meant to be...well, ‘flawed’, as you put it."
I'm not entirely sure if any of that even made any sense or not. I just wanted to share with you my thoughts this morning. It was quite the epiphany for me, and helped put me in a better mood.
Thanks for reading.
I should be working on my NaNoWriMo right now, but I felt compelled to sit down and write this first.
First of all, I want to say a big fat congratulations to our new President-Elect, Barak Obama. Yes we can, indeed.
Secondly, I'd like to jot some thoughts down that center around the hateful, skewed beliefs our country and the state of California are currently wrapped up in. I stayed up until past 2 in the morning following Prop 8 obsessively; I'm sure as you are all well aware right now, it unfortunately passed. And I honestly think that's a shame. I was looking forward to being both proud of my country AND state last night, but unfortunately, it didn't work out that way.
For me, this election season has been nothing short of stressful. Details aside, my house is not really one that is ideal for expressing political opinion openly. I could practically feel the lecture waiting for me as I stepped through the door last night, elated about Obama's win. But I decided not to let it get to me too much, as I am now a legal adult and my parents technically have no say over what I choose to believe or who I choose to vote for. Until, however, one of my parents insinuated that I couldn't be "a real Christian" because I had voted for Obama.
And, quite frankly, that pissed me off.
My current feelings about Christianity aside, I want to point something out: anyone who espouses beliefs of hate and fear and superiority and elitism cannot in good conscience call themselves a Christian. Why? Because Jesus clearly preached a life of humility and grace and love for anyone and everyone. Jesus lived in near-poverty and was completely content, whereas we Americans seem to have this looming fear of government taking things away that "are rightfully ours". Well, if you really think about it, it's not really yours anyway. It's God's, if you choose to believe in such a being. At the very least, the resources we are so intent on hoarding and keeping to ourselves came from the Earth and the environment that is so gracious as to let us live as we have been.... but that's another point altogether.
As regards Proposition 8 (which I voted no on, thank you very much), I'll say this: I'm very aware that the Bible states there can be no such union other than a man and a woman. Believe me, I'm very, very, painfully aware of this. But those people who have voted yes, overturning a legitimate California Supreme Court ruling in order to return to suppression and ignorance... ugh, it makes me sick. People are entitled to have their religious beliefs, of course, but those religious beliefs should never infringe upon the rights and inherent freedoms of someone else. Ever. Doing so is going directly against the principles that this country was founded on.
Prop 8 opponents... don't worry. You've fought hard. The close race is just a testament to that. Our time will come.
Thanks for reading.
Why?
BECAUSE OBAMA WON!
Yes. I is a happy ducky. :D
Hopefully Prop 8 doesn't pass. That would just be the icing on the cake. My, the past couple of days have been momentous...
It's 1:30 am on November 1, 2008, an hour and a half into NaNo. And I only have 220 words. Bleh.
This is not looking good.
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