Time is Catching Up

My closest friend of almost twenty-four years got engaged tonight. I found out initially from my sister, who saw it on Facebook, while I was watching Fifty Shades Darker with my other sister.

I felt overwhelming joy and sadness, knowing more than anything I will never go to her wedding. What is weird is that I have been feeling as though this was coming—her dad said something at Christmastime about her being in Tennessee for the following Christmas, which is where her fiancé is from, and there was just this sense that she would be engaged soon. That, and I have been having these thoughts that she’d become engaged, invite me to the event (not that I expect that will happen), and I wouldn’t have a way to attend.

I don’t expect to be invited. This reality hurts, but I haven’t seen her in over eleven years, and we aren’t as close as we used to be. For some people, it might even sound ridiculous that I consider her a close friend when I say things like that. Even if I were invited, I have zero money. To get to San Diego would cost a bit, and how would I get to the place where it was being held (that’s even if she got married in San Diego). My grandma would let me stay at her house, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that aspect.

I just feel melancholy and nostalgic. She’s going to get married, and I can remember when we were teenaged dorks imagining marrying specific members of *NSYNC. I’m melancholy because we’ve drifted apart, and I wish I could see her get married before she moves far away. I think her being an eight hour drive away is far, Tennessee is clear across the country.

Sorry if I am babbling.

In other nostalgic news, yesterday January 9th marked the nineteenth anniversary of my first concert. I saw *NSYNC as a gawky fifteen-year-old. I also just realized that I went around yesterday thinking it was the eighteenth, when it was in 1999. I feel so frigging old right now. I met my friend when I was 10 1/2 (back when the half counted), and my concert five years later, which will have happened twenty years ago next year.

Wow … Just wow.

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Titanic is Twenty

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There have been a lot of movies that I have had affect my life whose twentieth anniversaries have come and gone (Clueless is one example), but Titanic was a huge one. When I was fourteen, this movie stood out to me for reasons that are lost to me now. At the time, I was an ostracized new kid at a school where maybe seven people ignored the rampant rumors swirling about me, and took the time to discover they were highly untrue. Maybe I associated with Rose’s plight of feeling that she is “standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of her lungs, and no one even looks up.”

When I first went and saw the movie, I was supposed to be going with this guy James (real name) for a date. I didn’t like James. James was the polar opposite of anyone I have ever been interested in, but I was going to go on this date for some reason. Luckily, my inner voice told me I was being stupid, and I broke it off. I ended up going with my twelve-year-old sister and her friend, presumably because I was the ticket inside based off of my age. That, and how I was intrigued to see the movie because of Kate Winslet’s nose in the iconic poster (I have a thing for noses–mainly those of men, but Kate got a pass).

I was immediately captivated. Leonardo DiCaprio was a handsome man, Kate Winslet as Rose was the person I wanted to be (and try I did, much to my horror twenty years later, and also confusing the few males in my classes that I used Rose’s lines on when they tested me), and the story of the sinking broke my heart. I ended up seeing the movie three times, and cried every time Jack died.

Like many fourteen-year-old girls were doing, I ate up merchandise. I had the knock-off necklace (although the stone was much smaller), I bought all the soundtracks (which led to me blacklisting Celine Dion for years, because she was all over the radio, and her voice made me simply murderous–I still can’t listen to “My Heart Will Go On”), had the poster, and all that other stuff. If magazines spoke about the movie, I bought them. My allowance lined James Cameron’s pockets.

And now, it is twenty years later. I have been unable to watch the movie in its entirety for years, and even when I try, I turn it off. I can sit through numerous Holocaust films that cut me to the bones emotionally, but I can’t sit through Titanic. The only things from the movie obsession I have is a clipping from People magazine of Leo and Kate as their characters standing on the interior ceiling of the ship (a pun of sorts, I suppose) and I think the Return to the Titanic soundtrack. I can still quote that movie in my sleep, and remember emotions I had in regard to particular scenes. I can still remember how I confused the boys in my Math class when I called them ‘rude and uncouth’, and internally screaming at myself to stop being an idiot, because I wasn’t helping dispel the rumors going around about me (although those rumors had nothing to do with my behavior).

Needless to say, Titanic has had an impact. It furthered my love for history, corseted ladies, and gentlemen. Mainly, I helped Leonardo DiCaprio take minor roles in independent films for a few years because of the pandemonium of Titanic (sorry, Leo!). I also get a joy out of explaining to younger people that I sat around for three-and-a-half hours to download a minute-long clip of Leo and Kate in the Third Class dancing (dial-up was no joke).

Happy 20th, and thanks for making me feel like an old lady, Titanic!

Random Post involving Alexander Skarsgard

I was on Tumblr (sometimes I feel as though I am the only thirty-something roaming that site, despite the fact I know otherwise), and I came across this post about Alexander Skarsgard that I found funny but related to.

For me, the first person I can really remember having a crush on in a movie was the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t even tell you why, since I was five or six. I figure it was his spirit or the fact that he was just a no-nonsense type of person. Over the years, this adoration has also expanded to include the Tin Man, but there is a soft spot for Scarecrow. I wouldn’t go as far as Alexander to say that is why I am not married or in a relationship, because that is where this comparison ends.

For anyone new to this blog, there are a couple of posts floating around about my woman crush on the Wicked Witch of the West. I highly suggest you all check those out, in case you need further proof of how weird I am. I also skip through the movie to avoid the sugary ick of Dorothy (which I also explain in those other posts). Click on the tags to find those related posts.

Link belongs to askarsswedishmeatballs-Tumblr

Near Car Accident Memories

I’m not sure if I have mentioned in the past that I lived in New Hampshire for eight years, from 2000-2008. Due to my living in the Northern part of the state, which got a lot of snow, I have had some near-death experiences.

  • The first one involved our first year living there, and we went out as a family to look at Christmas lights (a tradition that we discontinued after this experience). We ended up switching lanes, and I happened to look out of the window just as a woman who had been behind us hit some unseen object and her truck flipped. As it turned out, she hit a dead moose on the side of the road and because she wasn’t wearing a seat belt (because in 2000, NH only required children under 12 to wear seat belts), she was half hanging out of the window. She was fine.
  • The second involved my dad, mom, and myself taking a winter trip to North Conway to look for Christmas gifts in 2004 (I only know the year because it was the year before I started working at T.J. Maxx). About twenty minutes from North Conway, there is a little (though deep) pond in the mountain range very close to the road. We hit a patch of black ice, and were spinning towards that lake. They say your life flashes before your eyes–all I thought was “I can’t swim. It’s winter, and I am fucked.” We managed to drift away from the pond to this platform on the right side of the street, which we tapped. My dad believes there was some higher power watching out for us, and I felt it was my grandpa. Side note: My dad was apologizing to my mom and I while we were spinning out of control. Also, another thirty seconds later, and an eighteen-wheeler would have clobbered us.
  • The last one, involved my dad and I taking a trip to Manchester to see Josh Groban in February 2005/6. We got just outside out Concord, when I decided we should go home. The entire trip was a nightmare. It was blizzard-like conditions, and the roads were slippery. We kept sliding across the road, and every time the Jeep went out of control, I would hear Notorious B.I.G.’s “Big Poppa” playing in my head. Before this moment, I had not knowingly heard Biggie (and that was in 10 Things I Hate About You). To this day, I don’t know why “Big Poppa” was the song I heard when slipping on wet snow in my dad’s Jeep.

The whole entire purpose of this post is due to the fact I heard “Big Poppa” while listening to a 90s Spotify radio playlist.

I think I’m in the Twilight Zone. My sister and I were looking at old photos, and she came across one from a Christmas many years ago.

In it, I am holding a Heart/Hart Family doll set. What is strange is that I never remember receiving it. I wanted them so bad, but my parents couldn’t afford them. My initial theory was that they were my cousin’s, since she got the pricier gifts from our grandparents, but my sister said there was no way she would let me look at her gift.

I’ve gone back and looked at the dolls, and am now questioning if I actually did own them.

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Favorite Memory

Thanks to a prompt on CoScheduleBlog, I decided to write about a favorite memory.

I honestly have many favorite memories, some of which I don’t want to share here, but after searching my brain for about thirty seconds, I decided that Prom factored into one of them.

I’ve spoken about prom in the past, but what makes it a favorite memory was how I felt that night. I had started out the day quite aggravated, since my dad thought commemorating my only prom night wasn’t worth it because I wasn’t going with a guy. My sister did my hair, my dress was too big and my parents went out to buy safety pins to make the dress a little more snug, and I ate basically nothing before going out.

To top it all, one of my classmates was killed before the dance even began. It sounds really mean, but I wasn’t going to let this sad news bring down my one and only prom experience. I noticed that this tall redheaded senior that I had a crush on for the last few months was there as a kind of reserve-type, because the boy/girl ratio was off. I was nervous for photos, because I was one of maybe five girls there without a date, and I had flashbacks of Homecoming in 1999 (the photographer refused to take my photo, eventually relenting when I wouldn’t walk away without a photo).

Prom is a special memory because it was the one night where I wasn’t “the new girl from California,” or “the one who seems cool, but doesn’t talk to anybody.” I was just Colleen, who was having a good time. Even though there were times when the girl who had brought me to prom (and convinced me to go in the first place) was driving me nuts, I wasn’t letting it bring me down.

It was also special because it was the first time I had ever slow-danced with someone. The redheaded senior asked me to dance, and after my initial disbelief (because no guy I had ever liked singled me out–in a good way), I took his hand. As we swayed along to the music, several of my classmates smiled and acknowledged me as a human, which felt really nice. I actually felt like I fit in for a short period of time.

It was a great night.

More Titanic Musings

I have spoken about Titanic a few times in past posts, basically from the standpoint of being a fourteen-year old girl who fell deeper in love with history. Well, the gazillion times I watched the movie at home when it was released on VHS and seeing it three times in theatres in 1997 came back to bite me in the butt today.

BuzzFeed posted an article about Titanic actor Billy Zane believing Rose should have ended up with his character, Cal Hockley. Naturally, women spoke up about the fact that even though Cal might have been the better-looking one (I am of the opinion that both Cal and Jack are equally handsome), he was still a jerk and Rose was better off without him.

Here are some photos taken from comments I felt I had to respond to. Whether or not my historical knowledge is correct or not (although it does matter), I felt I had speak up.

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Would Cal still be suicidal?

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I think that my favorite response is that of Cal’s demise in 1929 with the Stock Market Crash. Cal  was always referencing his money throughout the film (I mean, he bought a necklace that belonged to Louis XVI–that would not have been cheap), and I think the idea of potentially having to do manual labor would have been abhorrent to him. Maybe I misjudged his character when I was fourteen, who knows?

Any thoughts on this topic? Do you all think I am a dork?

Silly Things I Did As a Teenager

Author’s Note: Upon further inspection, I discovered this Rolling Stone issue is from May 2000. I would have likely read this as road trip entertainment, since I was moving across the country in June of that same year (with that said, my hair was cut similar to hers in 1999, I just don’t know who the inspiration might have been).

At the moment, this will be only one example. I know in the back of my mind that I did some ridiculous stuff, but I can only think of this one example.

When I was 15-16, I lived my life by all things Pop music-related. I was the odd girl in 1999 who was either in love with ‘NSYNC or Backstreet Boys–I liked them both immensely*; who couldn’t figure out what Christina Aguilera’s deal was, but I knew something was off about her (and when she made “Dirrty” I figured it out); and who cut her hair to look like Britney Spears.

In the summer of 1999, Britney appeared on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine, bearing this haircut (which might have been a wig):

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I also had shorts that laced up like her pants.

I was captivated by the length of her hair; the purposeful messiness of it, and I felt I needed it. For a bit of background on me at that age: five years earlier, my hair was very short. I hated having short hair, and I had grown my hair out about two years earlier. My favorite thing about my long hair in high school was that when I ran in P.E. class, I could see my ponytail swinging; and now I wanted to lop it all off so I could have this haircut.

I didn’t look like Britney. Photographic evidence exists of this haircut (and it is in my sophomore yearbook; along with the skunk hair color of my formerly-red highlights that went blonde), but I am far too ashamed to take a photo of that photo. I cut my hair in July (but not as short as Britney’s), because it had grown out badly by August, when school photos were taken. My hair was still long enough that I could pull it into a ponytail and let it swing and smack me in the face in volleyball class.

*Even by today’s standards of BSB vs ‘NSYNC, it is blasphemous to like both of them. To clarify, my friends also liked both boy bands (and were of course in love with Nick and Justin–ICK!), but they always had a higher preference for one over the other. If you ask 32-year old Colleen if she still feels the same, I would say no. I now have a much higher preference for ‘NSYNC over Backstreet Boys.

Interview With the Vampire Remake Thoughts

I am self-professed vampire fan. This isn’t something I hide from people. I might want to tone down the level of admiration I had for the Twilight saga when speaking to people, but I never shy away from the level of love I have for all things vampire.

I recently read that there is a remake of Anne Rice’s Interview With the Vampire  and an (long-awaited) adaptation of The Vampire Lestat, and my first thought was, “Why?” I mean, I was eleven when IWtV came to theatres, and I was 11-12 when I glimpsed it for the first time on HBO. I have written about how Tom Cruise’s Lestat awakened me in many aspects, and when I think of Lestat and Louis, I think of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt. Remaking this seems utterly ridiculous.

Then this morning, I see that the writer/director/producer wants Jared Leto for Lestat. Suddenly, I am on-board for a remake. No, not because I think Jared Leto is a nice-looking guy (which he is), but because he would bring Lestat’s intensity to life. Tom Cruise did an awesome job portraying Lestat’s annoyance with Louis’ lack of bloodlust, and the blatant disregard he has for human life being for anything other than sating his thirst. Besides, Jared Leto recently posted a tongue-in-cheek statement that he drinks human blood to remain looking youthful.

With that said, the casting of Louis has to be excellent, as well. Brad Pitt portrayed Louis’ disgust with his vampirism really well, and whoever fills this role needs to feel Louis’ pain.

Obviously, this is something I take quite seriously, and will be watching very closely over the next few months.