Sunday.
4 days away.
I may have already changed the name on my library account. Because #1 it's exciting and #2 it's so much easier than getting a new social. I definitely don't want to think about that right now.
In fact, there's a lot that I have to think about right now that I don't feel like: getting an apartment, getting a job, paying for, oh, I don't know, food, my current work, resigning from my current work, and this whole wedding thing, you know. Plus, I am now getting more concerned about proper female role models the more I think about becoming a mom. . .or proper male role models, for that matter. If my boys want to play with Barbies I'll sure as hell let them, but will they be bullied or teased about it? I don't think I could handle that. . .
Anyhow, my life is changing dramatically in half a week. A quarter of a fortnight. [Which reminds me, totally gonna check out this DVD of Ian McKellen (when he has brown hair!) doing famous Shakespeare monologues. Afternoon relaxing win!] And between the fits of hysterical giggling, the all-out fear, the nightmares, the sour tummy, and the almost constant threat of weeping just below the surface, I haven't really gotten much of a chance to think too much about it all.
Growing up is kinda scary.
And let's not forget that Death's just around the corner. I mean seriously, that dude is always lurking, waiting for you to slip up. Take your eyes off the road for one second, choose the wrong hallway during a tornado, or eat one too many Twix bars. I love Twix bars. Guess we know what I'll die of. One of my friends used to say she didn't care -- she loved food too much and she wanted to die with a cheeseburger in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. NOW THAT'S LIVING.
But honestly, Death really puts things in perspective. Recently, I've been reading/watching/listening to a lot of stuff involving Death, particularly spouses/lovers/loved ones dying and leaving people depressed, sad, and lonely. The Hunger Games, Titanic, even Ghost Whisperer are all conspiring to impress upon me the fact that I would be wrecked if Philip were to die suddenly, and even though I hope he dies after me, old and happy and sleeping, I will still be wrecked. It's like Tennyson says, my dust would hear him and beat, had I lain for a century dead.
It turns out that there's really only one thing I'm scared of anymore: Philip dying. I think I can face Death myself. Despite the fact that I get a little nervous whenever I think about it (and super freaked out when I think about it too much), I feel like Death is a little comforting. Like they always say, I imagine that it's like returning home. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, coming home again. But if Philip were to go first, I would be alone. Without him. Missing him. Every single day. It would be a struggle to construct any kind of meaning for my life.
But ultimately, this is one of the best reminders that I feel I am making the right life choice. When I think about losing him, I feel an instantaneous searing pain in my chest, and I feel like my heart is literally about to explode. Which is a bit terrifying. I have nightmares about him dying (or leaving me), and whenever a spouse dies on TV, I bawl. Seriously, I cried during the entire episode of GW when Jim dies (don't worry, he comes back. . .somehow). I thought I was going to make myself sick. Then I cried for a whole hour during Titanic. That one actually gets me more, because of at the end when Old Rose is all like, "I don't even have a picture of him; he exists now only in my memory."
SOB.
As a historian, there is like no worse fate than not being remembered. I'm sure there are TONS of people who aren't remembered and tons more who won't be. . .in a population of 6 billion that's bound to happen. But it still kills me every time when someone is nameless and forgotten. It's like they never existed in the first place. I console myself with the idea that someone once upon a time knew who they were.
Identity is such paramount to humankind, not just as individuals but as a group. We are not only defined by how we decide but how everyone else decides we should be defined. We may try to deny it, but we are so intricately intertwined with the lives of those other 5,999,999,999 people on the planet. It's completely inescapable. Because trust me, even if you try to pull an Into the Wild move (God I detest that hideous excuse of a book), someone will find your idiotic rotting corpse in some bus in the wilderness. And it won't be pretty.
I guess that's why I'm having a philosophical moment -- my identity is changing. I am still Karen, but I will have a new last name. I will have someone to run things past all the time, depend on all the time, and in turn have them depend on me all the time. Fortunately, he is a grown person and not a baby so he's still capable of taking care of himself and I don't have to hold up his head because his poor neck isn't strong enough, but someday one of us will probably poop out and actually need the other to hold our neck up. At the end of the day, that is the real commitment I am making. I am resolving to stand by him no matter what. I am resolving to annoy him and get annoyed by him, to love him and be loved by him, and to be able to call him my partner. I am unfathomably lucky.
Now, all I have to do is in fact try and make each day count, so that when Death comes, I can look him in the eye and tell him I'm ready. That I loved and was loved, and that someone mattered to me and I mattered to someone, and that because of that I can go with a clear conscience.
Unless of course I've horribly wronged someone and then I have to haunt them and send them incomprehensible messages until somehow it all turns out okay and they forgive me.
THEN I can die happy.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Chaos Theory (Or, How to Relax)
So I'm getting married in less than two weeks.
That's simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. And right now, I'm tending to flip-flop between the two worse than John Kerry at a Democratic rally.
There's lots of stuff to think about: flowers and dresses and favors and programs and music and cake tiers and shoes and gifts and thank-yous and transportation and maps and did I do this and did I do that and when can I talk to that person and what if something goes wrong and will the wax lady do it right when I tell her to make my eyebrows look natural.
YIKES.
So basically, when I'm in the "I'm so thrilled" stage and not thinking about the aforementioned puddle of chaos and disaster that is my planning life right now, I am majorly trying to destress. I'll tell you what's not helpful: reading about teenagers ripping each other to shreds in a "game". Though it was sickly enjoyable. No no, what I am here to tell you about tonight is my tips on how to relax, and what has been working for me recently or has worked in the past.
#1. Get yourself a fluff novel. This is not a time to pick up Dickens or Chaucer, this is a time to read a trashy romance novel or an equally mindless piece of nonsense in a genre of your choice. Though I beg of you, don't pick up Nora Roberts. If you're going to choose trashy romance novels, at least pick a real bodice-ripper. Hint on how to find the right one: It's got to have a girl in a low-cut, 19th century gown that's still way revealing and some guy in tight-fitting trousers with no shirt on, thereby exposing his twelve-pack. Okay, so this isn't really my bag. I have no lack of romance, even now, and if I do want trashy there's always my fiance's fabulous reenactment of a break-up between a Snooki look-a-like and a bro he overheard on campus the other day. You can't make this stuff up. So instead, I am trying Zorro by Isabel Allende. I give. I love Zorro. Let's hope this one is fluffy enough.
#2. Bath time. Ahhhhh, bath time is so perfect. I love bath time because when I was living with roommates, it was one of the only times when you had perfect solitude. Nobody wants to disturb you when you're in the bathtub. Unless there's a fire alarm. And that's just inconvenient. Anyhow, if your bath water's warm enough, too, you can stay in there for, like, an hour. With the bubbles, the candles, the music, and the book (and the occasional glass of wine) it's the perfect way to spend an evening. True, you may be a bit wrinkly when you get out, but they are mercifully the kind of wrinkles that go away.
#3. Extra-long out to dinner. Take your time, for god's sake. Enjoy the company and the conversation, eat what you want and don't hurry it. Order dessert. Bring your favorite person and just sit back and enjoy the show. I did this the other night with my favorite person, and instead of eating on the go or standing or something else stupid like that, we took an hour and a half out of our day, we didn't talk about anything stressful, we just laughed and talked and ate each other's food (okay, mostly me stealing his fries) and had a great time. It was like the coils of stress literally unwound from my spine.
#4. Work. I know this may sound stupid, but seriously, when your home life is stressing you out, just lose yourself in your work. In my job, I have a lot of stuff to do on a regular basis. There's not a whole lot of sitting around passively. Therefore, it's relatively easy to just focus on the task at hand and not think about anything else. If you are currently unemployed, have a boring job, or are younger than 18, try doing the dishes by hand. I swear it's a Zen thing. I do the dishes by hand, and I relax like no other. I just focus on each dish and doing a good job, maybe listen to some music, and I get into this almost trance-like state where my mind is miraculously free of thoughts. Yes, you can call me Siddhartha.
#5. Movies. If you're not much into reading, try movies instead. It's never so easy to forget your troubles as while watching Simon Pegg take out zombies with record albums in Shawn of the Dead. Don't worry, they only use the albums by crap bands. Personally, this is my plan: I am going to see Titanic. By myself. Yep, I'm going to sit in that dark theater and bawl my freaking eyes out of Rose and Jack and their poor doomed love. I am one of those girls who needs a good cry. I'm not really upset, it's just a fabulous stress reliever. So rather than melt down about a particularly bad traffic jam (of which there has been plenty recently), a particularly spectacular fall, or a particularly failed recipe, I am going to have a prescribed meltdown of my own choosing. A controlled cry. Then, when I get into that bad traffic altercation, I will be able to remember all of the soliloquy of Caius (a.k.a. The Earl of Kent in disguise). According to my Shakespeare professor, it is the best collection of insults and should be hurled at wrong-doers as frequently as possible. It goes something like this:
KENT: Fellow, I know thee.
OSWALD: What dost thou know me for?
KENT: A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.
Try that on for size the next time someone pulls out in front of you and then decides to go 10 miles below the speed limit.
That's simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. And right now, I'm tending to flip-flop between the two worse than John Kerry at a Democratic rally.
There's lots of stuff to think about: flowers and dresses and favors and programs and music and cake tiers and shoes and gifts and thank-yous and transportation and maps and did I do this and did I do that and when can I talk to that person and what if something goes wrong and will the wax lady do it right when I tell her to make my eyebrows look natural.
YIKES.
So basically, when I'm in the "I'm so thrilled" stage and not thinking about the aforementioned puddle of chaos and disaster that is my planning life right now, I am majorly trying to destress. I'll tell you what's not helpful: reading about teenagers ripping each other to shreds in a "game". Though it was sickly enjoyable. No no, what I am here to tell you about tonight is my tips on how to relax, and what has been working for me recently or has worked in the past.
#1. Get yourself a fluff novel. This is not a time to pick up Dickens or Chaucer, this is a time to read a trashy romance novel or an equally mindless piece of nonsense in a genre of your choice. Though I beg of you, don't pick up Nora Roberts. If you're going to choose trashy romance novels, at least pick a real bodice-ripper. Hint on how to find the right one: It's got to have a girl in a low-cut, 19th century gown that's still way revealing and some guy in tight-fitting trousers with no shirt on, thereby exposing his twelve-pack. Okay, so this isn't really my bag. I have no lack of romance, even now, and if I do want trashy there's always my fiance's fabulous reenactment of a break-up between a Snooki look-a-like and a bro he overheard on campus the other day. You can't make this stuff up. So instead, I am trying Zorro by Isabel Allende. I give. I love Zorro. Let's hope this one is fluffy enough.
#2. Bath time. Ahhhhh, bath time is so perfect. I love bath time because when I was living with roommates, it was one of the only times when you had perfect solitude. Nobody wants to disturb you when you're in the bathtub. Unless there's a fire alarm. And that's just inconvenient. Anyhow, if your bath water's warm enough, too, you can stay in there for, like, an hour. With the bubbles, the candles, the music, and the book (and the occasional glass of wine) it's the perfect way to spend an evening. True, you may be a bit wrinkly when you get out, but they are mercifully the kind of wrinkles that go away.
#3. Extra-long out to dinner. Take your time, for god's sake. Enjoy the company and the conversation, eat what you want and don't hurry it. Order dessert. Bring your favorite person and just sit back and enjoy the show. I did this the other night with my favorite person, and instead of eating on the go or standing or something else stupid like that, we took an hour and a half out of our day, we didn't talk about anything stressful, we just laughed and talked and ate each other's food (okay, mostly me stealing his fries) and had a great time. It was like the coils of stress literally unwound from my spine.
#4. Work. I know this may sound stupid, but seriously, when your home life is stressing you out, just lose yourself in your work. In my job, I have a lot of stuff to do on a regular basis. There's not a whole lot of sitting around passively. Therefore, it's relatively easy to just focus on the task at hand and not think about anything else. If you are currently unemployed, have a boring job, or are younger than 18, try doing the dishes by hand. I swear it's a Zen thing. I do the dishes by hand, and I relax like no other. I just focus on each dish and doing a good job, maybe listen to some music, and I get into this almost trance-like state where my mind is miraculously free of thoughts. Yes, you can call me Siddhartha.
#5. Movies. If you're not much into reading, try movies instead. It's never so easy to forget your troubles as while watching Simon Pegg take out zombies with record albums in Shawn of the Dead. Don't worry, they only use the albums by crap bands. Personally, this is my plan: I am going to see Titanic. By myself. Yep, I'm going to sit in that dark theater and bawl my freaking eyes out of Rose and Jack and their poor doomed love. I am one of those girls who needs a good cry. I'm not really upset, it's just a fabulous stress reliever. So rather than melt down about a particularly bad traffic jam (of which there has been plenty recently), a particularly spectacular fall, or a particularly failed recipe, I am going to have a prescribed meltdown of my own choosing. A controlled cry. Then, when I get into that bad traffic altercation, I will be able to remember all of the soliloquy of Caius (a.k.a. The Earl of Kent in disguise). According to my Shakespeare professor, it is the best collection of insults and should be hurled at wrong-doers as frequently as possible. It goes something like this:
KENT: Fellow, I know thee.
OSWALD: What dost thou know me for?
KENT: A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.
Try that on for size the next time someone pulls out in front of you and then decides to go 10 miles below the speed limit.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Hungry? Oh, Why Not.
Okay, when I first started this post a week ago, it was a rant. I am going to try and meld it into something cohesive. To that end, I have broken this posting up into three parts: the previews for the Hunger Games, the movie itself, and the book series. Now, let's get along to it.
Okay, let me rant a little.
Stephanie Meyer ruined vampires, teen fiction, and fantasy. All in one fell swoop. Or at least, she tried really, really, really hard. Aside from the fact that I do not understand what all the fuss is about (I mean, there was hardly enough plot in the last Twilight book to make into a book, let alone two movies), and aside from the frightening surge of teenage fanaticism, Stephanie Meyer has made it so that every fantasy book series for young adults gets compared to Twi-hards and their insatiable frenzy.
Thank god I got into Harry Potter beforehand.
Here is my question: how many people are going to pass up something popular because it gets associated with Twilight? Case in point: The Hunger Games.
Thank god I got into Suzanne Collins beforehand.
If I hadn't, I probably would have really truly put off reading The Hunger Games. Like forever. Because seriously, why do I want to read something that's just another Twilight? When there is basically no shortage of reading material in sight? And that would truly be a shame.
The way I see it is that Harry Potter is the stuff one bright person saves during the type of rebellion Collins' Panem is created, and hands the rabble-rousing hordes the manuscript of Twilight instead. Then someone, somewhere, will be a little warmer that night around their fire, and Stephanie Meyer will finally have contributed something meaningful to the existence of humankind. And, also the way I see it, The Hunger Games falls somewhere in between. It's like Vilette. Hardly anybody reads that Bronte novel. But it's still out there, probably still quality (though I'm not a huge Bronte fan myself), and people do still read it. Just not as much as they read Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre.
Initial rant over. Begin section 1: previews. Can I just say the previews before the Hunger Games sucked? And sucked massively. There was Snow White & the Huntsmen -- it begs the question, how many interpretations of Snow White can we have in a single year? There's at least one other coming out and it's definitely not the first in a slew of recent reimaginings of fairy tales. And let's not even get started on TV shows on the same topic.
Next up is Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Despite the fact that one of America's finest leaders is currently doing whirligigs in his grave, do we really need to mess with today's kids' knowledge of history any more than we already have? I mean, mutants were behind the Cuban Missile Crisis. This we know. But do we need to add the weight of mishistory to one of the most important events in the lifetime of our nation? And let's not forget that very obviously in the preview they link the vampires with the Southerners. Because obviously Confederates were pure evil and not really human. I'm sure that will go over really well in Georgia.
Moving right along, we have The Avengers. Okay, I'll admit it, I enjoy a good superhero movie as much as the next person, but I just don't see the point of this line-up. You have Captain America, Mr. Goody Two Shoes who has no inner conflict whatsoever. How boring. Then you have Thor. Okay, yeah, he's hunky, and that hammer is awesome, but beside his smolder, what's he good for? Blacksmithing? And let's not forget the Hulk -- a temper-tantrum throwing two-year old. Who happens to be green. Insert minor characters only die-hards know. Instantly forgettable. Throw in a token woman who's nothing more than sex appeal. Last but not least, possibly the coolest character, Iron Man. Why? Maybe because Tony Stark is secretly a genius and he made that creepy heart thing in a freakin' cave in Afghanistan. I hate to say it, but he may be even cooler than Batman. Wait, no, Batman wins.
Finally, the crowning achievement of underwhelming previews, Breaking Dawn: Part II. The preview literally consisted of a monologue of Kristen Stewart talking about how awesome she is, as Bella. With shots of her hideous engagement ring.
ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME. THIS PASSES AS COMPETENT STORYTELLING?
It's no wonder our society is falling apart. From the dawn of human communication, storytelling has been a way of giving ourselves identities, of distinguishing ourselves from our mute surroundings, and of passing down the depth of the human experience throughout the generations. Communication is more than mere stories -- it is the very fabric of our existence. Excellent storytelling lifts us out of ourselves, inspires us to do better, be stronger, have hope. . .in short, it shows us our potential and encourages us to reach out and grasp it. Stephanie Meyer writes self-indulgent, self-aggrandizing fluff. She is simply helping to lead to a gradual decline in the human condition.
Combine that with Snooki's due date being on the purported day the world will end, and it's time for Apocalypse Now.
Rage at previews subsiding. Onto section 2: the movie. All in all, I liked the movie. I thought Jennifer Lawrence had the right kind of intensity for Katniss, and Josh Hutcherson the right kind of sweetness for Peeta. Although having said that, the main things I remember that kid in are like Journey to the Center of the Earth and Bridge to Terrabithia. DAMN he grew up. I kept finding myself lost in thoughts about how thick his neck was. Kinda on the creepy side (his neck), but I'm gonna let it slide. I did perhaps laugh when I found out that Gale was played by Thor's baby brother. I may still be laughing. So we know by pedigree he's got the smolder. I'm just uninterested next to Peeta. C'est la vie.
Cinematically, I thought they got quite a few things right. I liked the shaky camera work. It gave the impression of violence while not actually showing you every gory detail of teenagers literally ripping into each other. I was kind of relieved. Next, I loved the sound track. Not just the music (which was passable, though no John Williams), or the song she sings to Rue (TEARS EVERYWHERE) but the actual sounds of the movie. I was expecting much louder and over-the-top. You know, every punch that lands sounds like the guy's fist was made of pure iron. But no, I thought actually it was wonderfully understated. Finally. It still conveyed the feeling of the arena, too. And maybe the best thing I liked about this movie was that it felt like a movie. FINALLY a director gets the pacing right for something like that. I felt like the last, oh, seven Harry Potter movies didn't really feel like movies -- more like jumbles of scenes. Like I was repeatedly being dropped into a pensieve. And it wasn't boring as all get out like at least the first two Twilight movies. There were also some nicely scripted lines.
Anyhow. The biggie, section #3: the books. I broke. It took me probably a solid year (maybe more) to actually buckle down. With no small amount of complaining and poo-poohing, I did it. And did it in a scant number of days, might I add. I really had no right to turn up my nose. I love Suzanne Collins. I do. She created Gregor. He's my favorite. Really truly. So I should've been more open to this. I am a not-so-secret snob, and I know this about myself and I don't like this about myself. And yet, I act snobby time and time again, usually with stuff like this. What am I, a hipster? God I hope not.
By and large, I enjoyed them. Yes, they're not great literature. I honestly think that realm is reserved for Harry Potter. I do. But they're not drivel. There's actual thought and meaning behind them, and most of the plot is well thought out and executed. I say most, because I got so mad I could spit in the third book, and I felt it could've been done better. It did feel like a bit of a let-down to the series, and I would maybe say the first one is my favorite this first time around (although the second was great). And who am I kidding, I love an epilogue. Love love love them. I know it's trite, I know it's cliche, and I get mad at certain books that don't have them. My best friend and I used to read the Dear America diaries when we were in elementary school, and she would berate me because I would always skip to the epilogue because I had to know how their lives played out. I wanted to know if two people who fell in love got to stay in love, and if it all worked out for them.
So I may not have cried at all, I may still prefer Gregor, but I thought The Hunger Games was actually worth my time. I probably will read them again (I read them so fast the first time I think I missed stuff), and I will recommend them to people. And, for future reference, I will post this blog in order to remind myself that I need to loosen up. For heaven's sake, just read it. Who cares what other people think, just give it a chance!
You might be pleasantly surprised.
I was.
Okay, let me rant a little.
Stephanie Meyer ruined vampires, teen fiction, and fantasy. All in one fell swoop. Or at least, she tried really, really, really hard. Aside from the fact that I do not understand what all the fuss is about (I mean, there was hardly enough plot in the last Twilight book to make into a book, let alone two movies), and aside from the frightening surge of teenage fanaticism, Stephanie Meyer has made it so that every fantasy book series for young adults gets compared to Twi-hards and their insatiable frenzy.
Thank god I got into Harry Potter beforehand.
Here is my question: how many people are going to pass up something popular because it gets associated with Twilight? Case in point: The Hunger Games.
Thank god I got into Suzanne Collins beforehand.
If I hadn't, I probably would have really truly put off reading The Hunger Games. Like forever. Because seriously, why do I want to read something that's just another Twilight? When there is basically no shortage of reading material in sight? And that would truly be a shame.
The way I see it is that Harry Potter is the stuff one bright person saves during the type of rebellion Collins' Panem is created, and hands the rabble-rousing hordes the manuscript of Twilight instead. Then someone, somewhere, will be a little warmer that night around their fire, and Stephanie Meyer will finally have contributed something meaningful to the existence of humankind. And, also the way I see it, The Hunger Games falls somewhere in between. It's like Vilette. Hardly anybody reads that Bronte novel. But it's still out there, probably still quality (though I'm not a huge Bronte fan myself), and people do still read it. Just not as much as they read Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre.
Initial rant over. Begin section 1: previews. Can I just say the previews before the Hunger Games sucked? And sucked massively. There was Snow White & the Huntsmen -- it begs the question, how many interpretations of Snow White can we have in a single year? There's at least one other coming out and it's definitely not the first in a slew of recent reimaginings of fairy tales. And let's not even get started on TV shows on the same topic.
Next up is Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. Despite the fact that one of America's finest leaders is currently doing whirligigs in his grave, do we really need to mess with today's kids' knowledge of history any more than we already have? I mean, mutants were behind the Cuban Missile Crisis. This we know. But do we need to add the weight of mishistory to one of the most important events in the lifetime of our nation? And let's not forget that very obviously in the preview they link the vampires with the Southerners. Because obviously Confederates were pure evil and not really human. I'm sure that will go over really well in Georgia.
Moving right along, we have The Avengers. Okay, I'll admit it, I enjoy a good superhero movie as much as the next person, but I just don't see the point of this line-up. You have Captain America, Mr. Goody Two Shoes who has no inner conflict whatsoever. How boring. Then you have Thor. Okay, yeah, he's hunky, and that hammer is awesome, but beside his smolder, what's he good for? Blacksmithing? And let's not forget the Hulk -- a temper-tantrum throwing two-year old. Who happens to be green. Insert minor characters only die-hards know. Instantly forgettable. Throw in a token woman who's nothing more than sex appeal. Last but not least, possibly the coolest character, Iron Man. Why? Maybe because Tony Stark is secretly a genius and he made that creepy heart thing in a freakin' cave in Afghanistan. I hate to say it, but he may be even cooler than Batman. Wait, no, Batman wins.
Finally, the crowning achievement of underwhelming previews, Breaking Dawn: Part II. The preview literally consisted of a monologue of Kristen Stewart talking about how awesome she is, as Bella. With shots of her hideous engagement ring.
ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME. THIS PASSES AS COMPETENT STORYTELLING?
It's no wonder our society is falling apart. From the dawn of human communication, storytelling has been a way of giving ourselves identities, of distinguishing ourselves from our mute surroundings, and of passing down the depth of the human experience throughout the generations. Communication is more than mere stories -- it is the very fabric of our existence. Excellent storytelling lifts us out of ourselves, inspires us to do better, be stronger, have hope. . .in short, it shows us our potential and encourages us to reach out and grasp it. Stephanie Meyer writes self-indulgent, self-aggrandizing fluff. She is simply helping to lead to a gradual decline in the human condition.
Combine that with Snooki's due date being on the purported day the world will end, and it's time for Apocalypse Now.
Rage at previews subsiding. Onto section 2: the movie. All in all, I liked the movie. I thought Jennifer Lawrence had the right kind of intensity for Katniss, and Josh Hutcherson the right kind of sweetness for Peeta. Although having said that, the main things I remember that kid in are like Journey to the Center of the Earth and Bridge to Terrabithia. DAMN he grew up. I kept finding myself lost in thoughts about how thick his neck was. Kinda on the creepy side (his neck), but I'm gonna let it slide. I did perhaps laugh when I found out that Gale was played by Thor's baby brother. I may still be laughing. So we know by pedigree he's got the smolder. I'm just uninterested next to Peeta. C'est la vie.
Cinematically, I thought they got quite a few things right. I liked the shaky camera work. It gave the impression of violence while not actually showing you every gory detail of teenagers literally ripping into each other. I was kind of relieved. Next, I loved the sound track. Not just the music (which was passable, though no John Williams), or the song she sings to Rue (TEARS EVERYWHERE) but the actual sounds of the movie. I was expecting much louder and over-the-top. You know, every punch that lands sounds like the guy's fist was made of pure iron. But no, I thought actually it was wonderfully understated. Finally. It still conveyed the feeling of the arena, too. And maybe the best thing I liked about this movie was that it felt like a movie. FINALLY a director gets the pacing right for something like that. I felt like the last, oh, seven Harry Potter movies didn't really feel like movies -- more like jumbles of scenes. Like I was repeatedly being dropped into a pensieve. And it wasn't boring as all get out like at least the first two Twilight movies. There were also some nicely scripted lines.
Anyhow. The biggie, section #3: the books. I broke. It took me probably a solid year (maybe more) to actually buckle down. With no small amount of complaining and poo-poohing, I did it. And did it in a scant number of days, might I add. I really had no right to turn up my nose. I love Suzanne Collins. I do. She created Gregor. He's my favorite. Really truly. So I should've been more open to this. I am a not-so-secret snob, and I know this about myself and I don't like this about myself. And yet, I act snobby time and time again, usually with stuff like this. What am I, a hipster? God I hope not.
By and large, I enjoyed them. Yes, they're not great literature. I honestly think that realm is reserved for Harry Potter. I do. But they're not drivel. There's actual thought and meaning behind them, and most of the plot is well thought out and executed. I say most, because I got so mad I could spit in the third book, and I felt it could've been done better. It did feel like a bit of a let-down to the series, and I would maybe say the first one is my favorite this first time around (although the second was great). And who am I kidding, I love an epilogue. Love love love them. I know it's trite, I know it's cliche, and I get mad at certain books that don't have them. My best friend and I used to read the Dear America diaries when we were in elementary school, and she would berate me because I would always skip to the epilogue because I had to know how their lives played out. I wanted to know if two people who fell in love got to stay in love, and if it all worked out for them.
So I may not have cried at all, I may still prefer Gregor, but I thought The Hunger Games was actually worth my time. I probably will read them again (I read them so fast the first time I think I missed stuff), and I will recommend them to people. And, for future reference, I will post this blog in order to remind myself that I need to loosen up. For heaven's sake, just read it. Who cares what other people think, just give it a chance!
You might be pleasantly surprised.
I was.
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