I'm back, baby!
96 weeks... Christ.
I should be working on my schoolwork now. But I don't think it matters today, as long as I get it done by tonight, since it's already one day late.
I just watched Knocked Up. For some reason, I feel like writing about it. I wanted to restart this journal anyway, its a better diary than anything else I've ever kept. Regardless.
After seeing this movie, I see consistent parallels between it and my life. I see myself in these situations. It was the same thing as Juno, I imagined myself in the situation and wondered, "what would I do?" Would I somehow have a perfect, Hollywood-scripted ending? Or would I choke it up, like I do everything else?
Somehow, these movies always open emotional doors for me. Watching Fool's Gold, I remember the dialogue between the two gay cooks after the treasure hunter guy disassembled the grid and got blown out of the water onto the ship, dropping the sword. The dialogue was about why the cooks found him sexually attractive. It wasn't like they were saying, "Oh, I'd like to fuck him this way or that way," the way most guys I know talk about sex. It was more sincere and logical, like they were wondering why they found this particular act sexy.
"But it's more than just the sheer power of his raw sexuality."
"It's the totality of his emotional commitment to the task at hand."
"It's the focus. It's the focus!"
"He sees it. He wants it. He goes after it."
Opened up a new way of thinking for me. Incredible, isn't it, that after my childhood had been ruined by Hollywood, that now it is remedied by the same token. Ironic, really. I took all of what I saw as the best parts of movies to be the truth, and if not the truth, then the way things should be, and if not the way they should be, the way I want them to be. And if things are not the way I want them to be, then I would always just lose hope.
For instance. I took great pains, serious trouble, to make my very first kiss a special one. It was in a tower in Spa, Belgium, the winter of 2004. She and I were at the top, and there were windows all around. It was almost midnight, and the black of night was offset by the snow falling majestically around the tower. It felt as though we were floating on nothing, because this tower was on top of a semi-hill and we were looking away from any cities, so the view was black, only showing the faint, white outlines of buildings in the distance.
After that, I tried making the first kiss the best kiss there would be in the relationship. That was a mistake. My next first kiss was not special at all, except that the girl was special. However, I think we get on better as friends anyway. Then I actually never kissed someone, just because I could never make it Hollywood-scripted. Soon I realized that in order to have a Hollywood-scripted kiss, I'd need the Hollywood script. And no one's life is really like that. Unless you make it that way. But after the first kiss.
I've always had a vision of a great kiss to have: in the ballroom, on the dance floor, a fast salsa beat, contra-dancing. Row upon row of dancers, moving to the caller's tune. He would call for some kind of freestyle dancing bit, and my partner and I would take the floor. We would dance so well the band would play for no one else, simply because they were all watching us. We'd spin, duck, weave each other's dance so well it would be hypnotic, enchanting! Adrenaline high, heart pumping, only focused on one another, we'd be a swirling vortex of lustful dancing. And then the music would crescendo, we'd make a final spin and cut it as the music paused, she, coiled back into my arms, her back pressed against my chest and our arms held out, sharply staring into one another's eyes for that entire, single, beat. The music would resume, toned down but energetic, and I'd spin her down, catching her with one hand under her, lean in, and kiss. The crowd would cheer, the band would come back with renewed energy, and with that, the contra would continue.
But that's never happened. And I don't know if it ever will. I don't even know if I want it to, maybe it should just be my fantasy of the perfect first kiss. Then again, I could do it even if it weren't the first kiss, it would just be the perfect kiss. And I'd be ok with that. I don't remember any of my first kisses after that first one, not because they weren't memorable, but because they didn't measure up to my standards. Another mistake.
Then I met a girl whose impact on me has not yet been matched, at least not in the romance. She loved the snow, and I loved indulging her. Our first kiss happened with no precedent; completely spontaneous. I had tried to make the perfect first kiss before, but it never occurred. I took her outside, and we played in the snow, fooled around throwing snowballs at each other. Then we took it a little farther and mock-wrestled. I'm not sure if she let me get her on the ground or not, but then I was right there next to her, our faces close, noses barely touching. I stared into her eyes, and she into mine.
Held that stare for two seconds before she pushed away and threw another snowball. I was a little disappointed, but I had expected something would happen. So of course, it didn't. That seemed to be my main problem, I always had expectations, and would make plans based on them that just never turned out like I thought they would.
Now, I've gotten better. I no longer make these outrageous plans and expectations. I had my first kiss with someone in a rather raucous game of spin-the-bottle, for christ's sake! If that's not planned I don't know what is, although I can't say I didn't hope the bottle would land on her when I sat down to play. Ironically it landed on her best friend first, but hey. *shrugging* That's the spirit of the game, eh?
I loved each experience, but the best kiss in the world can't even come close to the worst kiss in the history of mankind with the right person. Now, I think I know that. Unfortunately, it may still have to be tested.
Apologies, but I must get to my schoolwork. I have put it off long enough. I will be back though, I am interested in documenting my life somewhat for a while, at least.
Which reminds me, I went back and read more than 200 of my previous LJ entries before I posted this one. Originally I was looking for Ericka, whom I want to talk to again, but I just got sucked in to reading about myself in the past. It's the best history I've ever lived.
I should be working on my schoolwork now. But I don't think it matters today, as long as I get it done by tonight, since it's already one day late.
I just watched Knocked Up. For some reason, I feel like writing about it. I wanted to restart this journal anyway, its a better diary than anything else I've ever kept. Regardless.
After seeing this movie, I see consistent parallels between it and my life. I see myself in these situations. It was the same thing as Juno, I imagined myself in the situation and wondered, "what would I do?" Would I somehow have a perfect, Hollywood-scripted ending? Or would I choke it up, like I do everything else?
Somehow, these movies always open emotional doors for me. Watching Fool's Gold, I remember the dialogue between the two gay cooks after the treasure hunter guy disassembled the grid and got blown out of the water onto the ship, dropping the sword. The dialogue was about why the cooks found him sexually attractive. It wasn't like they were saying, "Oh, I'd like to fuck him this way or that way," the way most guys I know talk about sex. It was more sincere and logical, like they were wondering why they found this particular act sexy.
"But it's more than just the sheer power of his raw sexuality."
"It's the totality of his emotional commitment to the task at hand."
"It's the focus. It's the focus!"
"He sees it. He wants it. He goes after it."
Opened up a new way of thinking for me. Incredible, isn't it, that after my childhood had been ruined by Hollywood, that now it is remedied by the same token. Ironic, really. I took all of what I saw as the best parts of movies to be the truth, and if not the truth, then the way things should be, and if not the way they should be, the way I want them to be. And if things are not the way I want them to be, then I would always just lose hope.
For instance. I took great pains, serious trouble, to make my very first kiss a special one. It was in a tower in Spa, Belgium, the winter of 2004. She and I were at the top, and there were windows all around. It was almost midnight, and the black of night was offset by the snow falling majestically around the tower. It felt as though we were floating on nothing, because this tower was on top of a semi-hill and we were looking away from any cities, so the view was black, only showing the faint, white outlines of buildings in the distance.
After that, I tried making the first kiss the best kiss there would be in the relationship. That was a mistake. My next first kiss was not special at all, except that the girl was special. However, I think we get on better as friends anyway. Then I actually never kissed someone, just because I could never make it Hollywood-scripted. Soon I realized that in order to have a Hollywood-scripted kiss, I'd need the Hollywood script. And no one's life is really like that. Unless you make it that way. But after the first kiss.
I've always had a vision of a great kiss to have: in the ballroom, on the dance floor, a fast salsa beat, contra-dancing. Row upon row of dancers, moving to the caller's tune. He would call for some kind of freestyle dancing bit, and my partner and I would take the floor. We would dance so well the band would play for no one else, simply because they were all watching us. We'd spin, duck, weave each other's dance so well it would be hypnotic, enchanting! Adrenaline high, heart pumping, only focused on one another, we'd be a swirling vortex of lustful dancing. And then the music would crescendo, we'd make a final spin and cut it as the music paused, she, coiled back into my arms, her back pressed against my chest and our arms held out, sharply staring into one another's eyes for that entire, single, beat. The music would resume, toned down but energetic, and I'd spin her down, catching her with one hand under her, lean in, and kiss. The crowd would cheer, the band would come back with renewed energy, and with that, the contra would continue.
But that's never happened. And I don't know if it ever will. I don't even know if I want it to, maybe it should just be my fantasy of the perfect first kiss. Then again, I could do it even if it weren't the first kiss, it would just be the perfect kiss. And I'd be ok with that. I don't remember any of my first kisses after that first one, not because they weren't memorable, but because they didn't measure up to my standards. Another mistake.
Then I met a girl whose impact on me has not yet been matched, at least not in the romance. She loved the snow, and I loved indulging her. Our first kiss happened with no precedent; completely spontaneous. I had tried to make the perfect first kiss before, but it never occurred. I took her outside, and we played in the snow, fooled around throwing snowballs at each other. Then we took it a little farther and mock-wrestled. I'm not sure if she let me get her on the ground or not, but then I was right there next to her, our faces close, noses barely touching. I stared into her eyes, and she into mine.
Held that stare for two seconds before she pushed away and threw another snowball. I was a little disappointed, but I had expected something would happen. So of course, it didn't. That seemed to be my main problem, I always had expectations, and would make plans based on them that just never turned out like I thought they would.
Now, I've gotten better. I no longer make these outrageous plans and expectations. I had my first kiss with someone in a rather raucous game of spin-the-bottle, for christ's sake! If that's not planned I don't know what is, although I can't say I didn't hope the bottle would land on her when I sat down to play. Ironically it landed on her best friend first, but hey. *shrugging* That's the spirit of the game, eh?
I loved each experience, but the best kiss in the world can't even come close to the worst kiss in the history of mankind with the right person. Now, I think I know that. Unfortunately, it may still have to be tested.
Apologies, but I must get to my schoolwork. I have put it off long enough. I will be back though, I am interested in documenting my life somewhat for a while, at least.
Which reminds me, I went back and read more than 200 of my previous LJ entries before I posted this one. Originally I was looking for Ericka, whom I want to talk to again, but I just got sucked in to reading about myself in the past. It's the best history I've ever lived.