泰丽 OR I Wish my Lawn was Emo, so it Would Cut Itself

Some might consider that to be in bad taste, but I'm an optimist. I also have a deep hatred for all things emo. That includes the people who perpetuate the myth. That happens to be the fifth time I'm used the work perpetuate in the last three days. That's really four too many. I don't want to say hate. Hate is too strong a word. I think that despise gets the job done. Or 'takes an active dislike in'. But not too active. I don't want those emo freaks thinking I'm thinking about them. Nevertheless, this post is certainly not about emoness, but it's really about the 'summer blockbusters' that are out this summer. So far we've had Spiderman 3, Shrek 3, and Pirates of the Caribbean 3. None of which I've actually seen. I don't know what it is, but I can't seem to get that same excitement about the summer blockbusters as I used to have. I'm a fan of art house dramas, movies with subtitles, cult classics, and anything with Brendan Fraser, but the fangirl in me just loves movies with explosions. I mean, I don't claim to defend it. I get around some arsty fartsy friends, and it's all 'Vole, vouccu chez, avoie moi'. Now, don't get me wrong. I love arsty fartsy movies, but studio execs have always been able to get my geek meter up with BIG, LOUD, MOVIES. Bad Boys, The first two Pirates movies, LOTR, that Matrix debacle. I mean, take some dude punching a guys lights out while driving a fast car, or a pretty lady dropkicking some dude for talking to her wrong, and I'm in the seat. But this season has gotten me less excited about the prospect of sitting the theater and watching things explode than I ever have been before. I STILL haven't seen Spidey 3, and I planned that out almost at the beginning of the year. As it stands, I'm the last of the my friends to see it, and as I hate seeing movies by myself, I probably won't see it until it hits the cheap movie theater, or maybe not even then. And I LOVE VENOM!!! There's no understanding it. I guess like my taste in music, it's a mystery. I'm supposed to be going to see Pirates and Shrek this weekend at, of all places, the local drive in. Whether or not I make it is going to be a tossup, I imagine. I just might go see something French instead.

A Love Story

This is a true story, which I was there for, which has been embellished because I have a craptacular memory, but most of it's the same, and there's that kiss.....

We were standing in the bottom of E hall, where the gym was, a few of my friends and I. Down there was a snack bar, and we were stocking up, getting ready to wait out the afternoon until our parents came to pick us up. It was an average high school day. We were giddy over things of no consequence, clucking over our problems, and trials and tribulations, nothing spectacular. I don't remember who looked out the window first, but there were several of us who watched the scene unfold for several precious minutes before we said anything. We were far enough away that they did not see us, but close enough to make out their faces, and their expressions. Two people stood in the middle of the campus. One girl, one boy. She, young and pretty, not a cheerleader, but with all the looks and charm that came with being on the 'in crowd'. He played lacrosse, his stick with a bag at his feet. It was a Friday, and he was headed off to the big game. We didn't know where, we didn't follow lacrosse, but it was evident that he wouldn't be back until the next day, maybe not even until the weekend was over. I don't know what drew us to that couple, nondescript, but the center of attention, as they stood in that empty courtyard, we couldn't hear a word they said. But it was evident that whatever words they did send back and forth were heated. Our conversations stopped and we were caught up in their disagreement. One by one we silently drifted towards the window, and with baited breath watched their faces twist into anger, annoyance, disgust, and then back again. He would point and rave, and then it was her turn. It's hard to say how long this went on. It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes. But there we were, voyeurs into this most intimate of moments. It's never occurred to me before, but I wonder what would have happened if they noticed us peeking; taking in this most private of moments and storing it in our minds. Would they have moved away, or would they not have cared that they had an audience? We watched and watched, not daring to move, once in a while we would comment, and wonder what they were saying to one another, wonder what could have been so hurtful, so serious as to break up this most beautiful of loves, this high school romance that seems to start the moon and the sun spinning in the sky. Then they broke. The flood waters opened, and he walked away. She yelled after him, but he didn't stop, he didn't look back. I imagined tears streaming down his face as he wondered how he could make this girl understand. But that didn't seem to matter. The girl went to her knees, sobs racking her body. She wondered how she could make this boy understand. We fell with them. Not literally, but our faces fell and our eyes cast downward. As we turned away from the window, we wondered, is this all that love truly is? Young hearts are fickle, but this fickle? This fragile? As an idealist perhaps I was hurt the worst. I was young, and thought highly of love. Was this all there was? Hurtful words in front of hidden strangers and a terse goodbye? Swimming in my own sadness I heard a shout. My group rushed towards the window to see him. He was running towards her. He was almost there. He dropped his bag, his lacrosse stick, sailing. She looked up to him, rose to her feet. He gathered her in his arms. They kissed. We cheered. It was like a moment in a movie. That moment when you realize that they both know how the other one feels and no matter what else, they're together now. He loves her, she loves him and nothing else matters. We were so happy. Inappropriately happy. We hugged and jumped, and squealed, and were glad that they were glad. He gathered his bags, and they walked, his arm around her, her arm around him away from our sight. And we had seen all we needed to see. The moment was through, but we were happy then. They probably broke up not too long after that. Families moved, people go to college, it's been probably 8 years since this moment, and I have never forgotten it. I like to think that they're somewhere, happy, loving each other, and living every moment together. I'm probably wrong. But I like to think that's how it happened. I still smile when I think about that moment, when I think about the happiness I feel when I think that that day, for me, true love really existed. Several days after 'the Kiss', I saw the girl walking in the hall. I was with a friend from that day, and as much as I wanted to tell her we saw everything, my friend advised me against it. I walked up to the young lady, and I told her everything. I told her how we were watching, she looked at me with a smile on her face and said, "I thought I heard someone cheering".

Separation of Church

There is something about religion that just put two people on seperate paths. A person who you think is just wonderful in every way, changes when you learn they don't believe the same things you do. Ideals are so basic, beliefs so simple. I believe in Jesus, in God, and the crucifixion. Very few specific things other than that. I mean, Baptist or Methodist, I feel like it's just about the same thing, dogma aside. When you get to Catholic, among others I start to get a little antsy. Standing from a distance, differences are fine, but up close and personal, things get a little iffy. It's odd to become close and work hand and hand with someone who, according to your beliefs, is going to spend eternity in a terrible place. You perceptions change. And it doesn't hit you how important those little things are until your faced with someone different from yourself. You look at a person, and expect one thing, and when you get another, you're thrown for a loop. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've had plenty of experiences with people of different religions, and I'm by no means an isolationist, but there is something about finding out a person isn't what you thought'd they be that's a little unnerving. We come into a relationship with all kinds of prejudices. We expect people to act a certain way, speak a certain way, and believe in certain things. When that changes, we're sometimes thrown for a loop.

Something Else I Wrote

I've got a couple of posts wandering around in my head that I definitely want to work on, but for now, what with Animazement coming up, and my trip to China right about the corner, I don't have nearly as much time as I used to, so, that being said, I leave you with this quickie post, and hope to have much more posts in the very near future.

I always thought death would be louder that this. A sharp bang out of the silence. A clash, or clang. The sound of life slipping away or being slurped, or shattered. The sound of impending doom, an oncoming train, or the soundtrack to you life. Something. Anything to signal you were alive at all and this was the big sayonara. I don't remember much, no bright light or my life flashing before my eyes, but I do remember this: Silence. Utter silence. Not even the sound of my own breathing, echoing in the dark. But that was ridiculous. I was dead. I didn't need to breathe.

Another, another stupid quiz!

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Parental Discretion Advised 2

This is a quote from here. Dan Savage gives sex positive advice on everything from incest, to S&M, and everything in between. It's really good, and interesting, and certainly worth the read. So, go there, and get your kink on. Look there, I just gave them a tagline they probably didn't want. Yay me!

"Ever since Oedipus gouged out his eyes, ...conventional wisdom has held that it's better to err on the side of not fucking your father's wife."

Chech out Savage Love here.