Random City, Part the 98th
Wednesday, July 30, 2008, 6:04 PM
This is one of those posts where I share whatever's on my mind at the time. I try to abbreviate the muck that goes along with that because if you heard or read an unedited version, it would be something like this:
Lah, lah, lah, can't get you out of my head. I love that song. Can't believe I scheduled Vons for delivery at five, what an idiot, am I going through Alzheimer's? I'm not even home at five. My legs are still white and I think I'm not going to be able to wait until the 5th of August for Breaking Dawn. I pre-ordered it, why's it coming on the 5th? I don't understand, no, no, not at all. And someone peed on the toilet at work and it's so disgusting! Really makes me angry, too, which is a stupid thing to waste anger on. But geeze. Come on. How hard is it to pee in the hole? And do you do that in your bathroom, you sicko?
In the midst of that run-on mind barf, Vons called to reschedule my grocery delivery for Friday. Which means WANTED is out, dammit. James. James!
Here in aesthetics-is-all-we-care-about Hollywood, the new trend in shoes is flesh-colored heels. Which looks damn stupid when I'm walking behind someone who's wearing them. It looks like the woman has very looooong ankles which end in a slightly crooked heel. Not sexay at all. Someone should coughtellcough them. Or, better yet, don't. I always need a laugh.
Of the personal kind. Been feeling a lot of them lately. For others. For me. About life. Where I'm going, what I'm doing, how others are doing and where they are going. I feel trapped. I'm not trying to bring anyone down by sharing that, but notice--I'm not going into details either. I am a real person who goes through reality like a real person does, though. I can't always blog about fun, light-hearted unhingey wackiness. That would be misleading (and would make me gag), unless no one knew the girl writing behind the name. Since some of you do, I have to project somewhat of a humanistic appeal. But shee, if only I could be in two places at once...
Cell freaking Phones
When I'm home in my studio apartment, I have to stand on a dining room chair to talk to people without getting dumped into the cosmos. Crazy, huh? But I look at it as an equilibrium exercise (which I need like a fraidy-cat dental patient needs Novocain). It's all part of life and how complications make it challenging and interesting. Of course, I look at it from a writer's point of view. Which is more writable/readable/memorable? The girl with her hand over her eyes with her feet stuffed under the bed comforter, or the girl teetering on a K-Mart Blue Light special chair her parents got for a steal?
So tomorrow I see my shrink. (I'm not going into details, stop cringing.) I've come to realize that I'm a good actor. I excel at protecting/shielding the fugly-ugliness, I'll even erect spring-board deflectors. But what's a girl to do when she feels guilt/fear/regret/brick-wall-ege?
And who the hell ever said you had to do things by the book, A-to-B-to-Q, and explain in comprehensive terms when you fucked up, when you're already a mess anyway?
Dr. Jakhail/Ms. Hide
This is the cool part. Where I realize and accept I am more than the sum of my total parts.
It was a 5.8 quake in Chino Hills, CA., which is like...two cities away from Los Angeles.
It's the biggest one I've felt yet. Scared the crap out of me. Scared the crap out of everyone.
This boy I loved was dangerous and unpredictable--someone of mystery. He wasn't evil, just slightly...tormented by the fact that he and I shouldn't be together. The reasons why we shouldn't be together varied: he was an alien from another planet; he was a ghost; he was an assassin sent to kill me; he had a crippled leg and didn't believe he was lovable; his mother killed my older brother in a drunk driving accident and our families were enemies; he was actually from the year 3005; he had cancer and was going to die.
Whatever it was I made up to keep us apart, it was never enough to trump the all-consuming, powerful attraction and passion we felt for each other. (Yes, I know how corny that reads.) I had a lot of fun putting us through hell so the eventual capitulation would be all the more sweet, because that's the key for me. In my fantasies, there had to be an element of hellish danger. I wanted it all. Excitement. Attraction. Mystery. Obsession. And one big gallomping roadblock. Reality didn't make the cut. Who cared about realism? I faced reality just getting out of bed.
Why am I sharing this?
Because a book written by Stephenie Meyer has resurrected those feelings. The book is called Twilight and is about a teen-aged girl, Bella, who falls in love with a vampire, Edward. The story is told in first person narrative, which isn't my favorite point of view, but after the first page or so, I didn't notice.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face--it was hostile, furious.Through Bella's narrative, I feel how emotionally torn Edward is for feeling the way he does about her. He is attracted to her smell--to her blood--and to her personally, and finds the two desires impossible to reconcile.
Their romance, their ill-advised attraction that grows into love, is the driving force of Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse. Sure, she's seventeen and he's 104 years old (but will be seventeen forever), and although they're both aware they can't stay together, they can't not be together. Edward's entire being shrinks from the thought of taking away Bella's mortality, but she can't envision her life without losing it. And thus begins the push-and-pull of a romance that for me is the ultimate escapism.
Danger-fueled obsession. I eat it up and crave thirds.
This isn't Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This isn't Angel, The Black Dagger Brotherhood or Anita Blake. This is Twilight, a different kind of vampire-human romance story that comes with a conscience and sweet, gentle passion, the kind that squeezes my heart and isn't letting go. Bella and Edward's slow-burning love, the danger and torment it creates from all angles, is one of the most compelling stories I've read.
I love Meyer's fast-paced writing, her thorough characterizations, and her well-thought out plots. I love her imagination. This is exactly the fantastical stuff my dreams were, and are again, made of.
How popular is this series? The movie comes out in December, and there are rumors that there is a second movie coming.
The last story, Breaking Dawn, comes out August 2. Guess what I'll be doing that day?
And! Stephenie Meyer is writing a companion book to Twilight told from Edward's point of view. It will be called Midnight Sun.
Her scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. There was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment.Remember Bella's thoughts about his hostile, violent stare? This is what Edward was thinking at the time. He came thisclose to killing her. Stephenie Meyer knows how to deliver what I, her reader, wants to know.
It's been a long time since I've felt this strongly about a series. Thank you, Stephenie Meyer. Your beautiful characters rock.
By the way, I am still peeling. I really friggen burned myself, but at least my nose is no longer red and my buns aren't itching.
Roaring against the wind
A couple of Saturdays ago, I went to Santa Monica Beach toting bags full of food, drink and laying-on-the-sand gear: blanket, pillow, sunglasses, book.
Before I stepped foot outside my apartment, though, I slathered on the SPF 15. Which wasn't enough protection, just so you know, for someone of the albino race. Consider yourself warned, and never fricken mind that I should know better by now than to brave California sun rays without WD40.
Walking across sand was hard. I had to raise my thighs higher than I was used to, and I had to compensate for a shifting motion surface. I felt like a drunk duck. I was out of breath when we dropped the bamboo-woven cover, staked it with shoes and bags, and claimed our slice of territory. The wind was strong enough to rip off someone's toupee, so the claiming-of-the-territory part was a bit of struggle, but I go hee-haw in the face of wind. Not that anyone could hear me above the roar of the wind.
Which is kind of what I'm doing now. Roaring against the wind.
I didn't lose!
Lookie what came in today's mailbag, compliments of Alice from Alice's Restaurant.
Thanks to Ricardo and Merry D., Alice with a bug in her ear, and Kaige's Whisper meme about the female depth plunger, Mario (but call him El Cabron), and someone who won before I did but didn't want the Thin Mints (gasp), I didn't lose!
I would like to thank The Academy, Alice, Kaige, Ally, mom and God.
Tuesday, July 1
...to say I'm here.
...and eating my hot dog with green peppers and onions while trying to get over fried brains.