art is why i get up in the morning, but my definition ends there

thrilled by: movies that you watch, expecting to have your emotions toyed with in that phony way that crappy movies have, but being pleasantly surprised by some things that made serious sense. I watched two movies tonight, my mother and brother's choices, and planned on vegging out under insipid pretenses. The Legend of Bagger Vance and Finding Forrester. Was there any reason for me to expect anything better from either? I mean, Charlize Theron, for god's sake. (I do, probably, begrudge her beauty, and perhaps that is why I dislike the girl. But dammit! she is also frustratingly stupid.) (And dammit! again, because I am really not the type to ever be jealous of a beautiful girl. Silly George for letting me in on the fact that there are girls that are hotter than me.)

Ah, but the point was: that kid in Finding Forrester was the man. Even though I knew also: "Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to," was a Twain quote and called it just as quickly. (Right in the middle of the pronunciation of the word "animal," for those keeping score at home.) I love stories about people that have talent and know it. Perhaps that is why, even though Will Smith makes me smile, I still definitely think Bagger Vance was insipid. But it certainly had lotsa pretty Savannah scenes!

listenin': "lonely as I am... I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day... it's hard to believe that I'm all alone"

got to talk to: the love of my life, by phone; one of my favorite web writers, by email; Kunk, while drunk, stoned, and layin' in a hammock. We whispered a lot. And got made fun of. And were loser-y together.

Statesboro was fun, even though Elena and Amy decided to be passive and go see Bridget Jones instead, even though no one was man enough to do tequila shots with me but I had to do 'em anyway, 'cause Robbie said he'd never seen a girl do one properly, and he already thought I was a wuss for using telnet on his computer, even though it was a little weird between Karl and I and he seemed to think the best remedy for that would be flirting with Lauren right in front of me, which wasn't hurtful or anything, because dude, don't worry about me, I'm happy, but it was awkward, at least. I feel like I should talk to him, because we had this agreement that we'd stay close friends, but then I kinda went and ignored him for a couple of months and whenever I'm around him lately, it makes me feel like he wants me to feel bad. Or that he does. But nothing drives me crazy more than people causing schisms (dammit, I would check how to spell that, but this computer sucks ass, and dial-up blows. And you know what I mean, right? Actually, that may be spelled properly. If so, disregard this entire parenthetical expression, please.) within my circle of friends. I'm not going to say that some of the situations that have gone on between people haven't merited them attempting to not ever see eachother again, but after having to worry about many many different pairs of people not running into eachother (because the boys don't worry about that, unless it's them in the "situation," and because I'm like the only girl around half the time with any attempt at responsiblity for making sure everyone is happy and not madly unconfortable. Which really just means I'm the only one meddlesome enough to want to try to make everyone happy.), I really don't ever want to have any people in my life that I can't even handle seeing. It seems like I have too good a head on my shoulders to pull shit like that. Maybe I just haven't been hurt enough yet.

"Why is it that our best words are those written for ourselves and not other people?" --William Forrester (paraphrased)

I also like movies that talk about writing, and writing well. I like movies that talk about good books and make me want to go upstairs and take a bubble bath that lasts for days and just read Salinger and Vonnegut, and damn! I still need to read Catch-22, and I haven't yet, because you should never give that nice a copy of something to someone who's not read the something yet. I'm in love with beautiful books and fanciful bindings, but it makes me so hesitant to get involved with, because once I get into something, I have to take it with me everywhere I go. Finally finished Geek Love (which was breathtakingly good), and it looks like it just went through a run in a washing machine. And I really destroyed the public library's copy of Atlas Shrugged, because fast as I read it, I still had to carry it with me to at least one party last summer. I remember being curled up in the rocking chair in Elena's living room reading, while crazy vodka shots and other Russian shenanigans were going on only feet away.

Another good quote from Forrester regarding how to win over a girl: "An unexpected gift, at an unexpected time." Because those are good.

To continue the disjointedness (how can people like writing about one thing for long enough to ever write a novel? Yes, I realize a novel, in theory, will be about thousands of different things, but still. I don't think I have that kind of dedication to any singular theme.): I was talking the other day about how crab legs were good conversation food, because what else are you going to do while you're attempting to get at those tiny, tricky pieces of meat? Other good conversation food:

S'mores. I know this from experience: sittin' around fires is real dangerous if you don't want to tell a secret. Before that last marshmallow is toasted, you'll have talked. How can one not? Perhaps the flames are hypnotic. Also cannot be avoided: discussions on the merits and flaws of toasting a marshmallow slowly and just brown, with nice crunchy outsides and perfectly smooth melted insides, as opposed to lighting it on fire and turning it into a big nasty deflated-balloon-like piece of charcoal. (I guess I revealed which method I prefer.)
Artichokes. Which are one of my favorite foods in the world anyway, but add to that the great conversations you get while dipping leaves in lemon-butter and sucking that off with that little bit of goodness on the end, really, they are quite unbeatable. Of course, they are also bizarre, and thus, I don't know anyone else (except for Slade, of course) who also has memories of eating artichokes on the marsh with their grandmother. And rarity is worth appreciating.
Any food that is shared. Which is why I love care packages. At camp, at GHP, at school... it's such a fun occassion to get one, I just have to share it with people. And each cookie and piece of candy and rice krispie treat is so treasured, sometimes even small ones have to be split between two people. Which is why I have good NYC memories, because Ben and I are both cheap, and split food all the time. Good conversations are had between two people over one bowl of soup. (Dude, the Soup Nazi is pricey!) Which is why I have a few good middle-of-the-night-in-the-CoC memories: you can't have a cookie as big as that and not share it with people!
Alcohol. Not food, really, but well. I've had some of the most important conversations while both participants had drunk themselves honest. One of them, we had also drunk enough to not notice the rain enough to move inside, and I finally got my wish to get kissed in the rain. Elena gave it to me (the wish, not the kiss), and we both probably took to it because of love for Adam, but yeah, it was nice.

Sigh. I'm searching for information now on the next Harry Potter, and it really doesn't seem as if it's going to be out this summer at all, and could in fact be released as late as the summer of 2002. J. K. Rowling has orchestrated it so that she has no deadline from the publisher and can basically take as long as she needs to make it wonderful. Which is good, but damn! that's a long time to have to wait. I do believe that I shall have to go back and reread 'em to tide me over til I get the mail I asked for. I can tell you that Hermione is going to be a prefect, that we'll find out why He Who Should Not Be Named killed Harry's parents, and that the title is tentatively Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, something I love, because I have a soft spot for phoenixes. None ever saved me from a deadly basilisk, but the phoenix is the animal for the astrological sign of scorpio (didya think it was the scorpion? Well, yeah, it is, but the phoenix is the secondary and more meaningful one. It is much more accurate a reflection of those characteristics of Scorpios that I think I have. And of course, I don't really do astrology anymore, after I did my chart and a few other people's, and realized that the coolest thing about it was how pretty birth charts are.) and also a key player in one of my favorite Ani songs. I like phoenixes a great deal, and would like to have a pet like Fawkes more than pretty much any other animal, real or not. Maybe I only am attempting to replicate the wisdom of Dumbledore, though.

Daddy's already up and brushing his teeth. Maybe that's a sign that I should go to sleep. And ooh! I have new sheets on my bed! As a result of the fact that my old sheets were ripped in shreds. I'm really not that active of a sleeper, but they were old and once a little hole got in 'em, down at the bottom, next to where my feet were, it was only a matter of time before I moved my toes a little. Or kicked my feet vigorously in opposition to having to wake up.

Hope everyone else had as lovely a Mother's Day as me and my mom did while hanging out on the porch watching the sunset.