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!

A Message

Although I’ve said in the past I would refrain from getting political, tonight I have reached the breaking point. So, here’s my statement, and I will leave it there:

I sincerely hope that all you people who voted for Trump or those Republican bastards that are too weak to oppose him are cool with all your West Coast family and friends being annihilated by North Korea because Trump and Kim Jong-Un are playground toddler bullies trying to outdo each other. But instead of knocking a small few kids into the sand, we are having to deal with nuclear weapons. 

I don’t know about you, those random few  right-wing a-holes, but I’m not willing to die for a 71-year-old infant who, by an effed up voting system, has the power to pull this crap. 

Kiss my ass. 

My Cinematic Element

I haven’t done one of these in a long time, so I will reveal a quiz result from Buzzfeed on what my cinematic element would be.

You got: A high-contrast, whimsical period piece with dark themes

Think of standing in a dark hallway eavesdropping on someone, and holding a candle while it flickers over your face, casting creepy shadows on the wall. Think of white ballgowns, mint green rooms, ornate chairs, and devastating secrets whispered about over tea.

Does that not sound like something I would be into? I am strongly into Victorian/Edwardian-themed films where someone lurks in a corner with a candlestick, eavesdropping.

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Image is from Crimson Peak

Image was lovingly extracted from here.

Old Photos

My younger sister is down at our grandma’s, and she has three tubs full of photos. My sister has been sending them to us throughout the day, and they have been fun to look at. I am sharing a few, although not the ones of my youngest sister when she was a cherubic baby and the Gerber baby doppelganger.

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My youngest sisters and I, most likely in 2000. These photos remind me to not repeat fashion mistakes.
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My mom’s parents, 1955/1956 when my grandpa was stationed in France
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My maternal grandpa in either Vietnam or Korea. My bet’s more on Vietnam.
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My grampy and me (and my aunt). This photo is totally getting framed.

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

I’m back, sort of

This past month has been interesting. For a couple of weeks, I thought I might actually be moving into a house with my family. Alas, that was not meant to be, and I must live here another year. The upside to this is that I have my own bathroom, which I can decorate any way I wish, and I don’t have to worry about what stress one of my cats would go through having to be under the same roof as my dad (she hides when he comes over). I have vowed to make some money so that my sister and our two cats can rent a house for ourselves.

In the process of possibly moving (and then not), I got new furniture. I went from two dressers, a nightstand, and a TV stand to just one dresser and a nightstand (I didn’t get rid of the TV stand). The previous furniture was nearly nineteen years old, and reflected my mindset at the age of fifteen: anything remotely resembling items found aboard the Titanic. My new furniture is from IKEA–and yes, I realize that once you’re over thirty, IKEA is supposed to go out the window. Also, in the process of helping my dad lug 5-6 boxes weighing too much for my weak arms, I realized that I most likely have a heart condition (which I will be looking into in June, which was the first available date to see a physician on Medi-Cal), and that helping my dad put together furniture is/was a nightmare. My room is still in a state of disarray, so no photos until I put it together and buy a storage ottoman for the “junk” that cannot be thrown away (like college papers and other stuff).

I am working on getting another tattoo.  I am going to be a “basic bitch” as my youngest sister says, and getting a California state outline with a turtle in San Diego County, rather than a heart. The journey to a turtle was long. I am the second one in my family to get this tattoo, one of my sisters already got one for her birthday. This is a sister tattoo, with only our youngest sister left to get hers. No doubt the other one will lose her mind if she should ever see that mine closely resembles our sister’s. I am now just working up the courage to email the artist, plus asking my mom if I should proceed or wait a of couple weeks.

I bought jeans at Cotton On, and they went bye-bye. Apparently, you can’t return worn jeans (which is understandable), and when you’re instructed by the manager or associate to walk around for an hour to see if they work, you’re screwed. On me, at least, the front rode up high and was cut low in the back. I am not really comfortable with the whole “showing off my underwear” look I unwittingly did in the sixth grade at nearly thirty-four, so there’s that. Also, I don’t like having my jean cuffs cut into my ankles … or jeans that fit like a glove on my thighs.

Other than that, not much has gone on.  Sorry I haven’t written, it’s just my life is utterly boring and I literally cannot think of anything to write about, other than my disdain for the direction this country is headed.

Random history thought

You know how I know I’m a history nerd? I just had a random thought of Hocus Pocus, and how I’d have loved to pick Thackery Binx’s mind on watching history change over the last three hundred years.

I mean, he was turned into a cat in 1693. He watched Salem go from a small village to a city over three centuries, and it would be interesting to get his thoughts on the whole process.

Like I said, random.

Oldies Still Make Sense Decades Later

As I spend more and more time wondering what in Hades is happening to the United States, I am finding music of the 1960s/1970s has odd parallels to that of current events today.

One song in particular is that of The Temptations’ “Ball of Confusion.” Obviously, there are references to recreational drug use (mainly the use of Marijuana, I would assume) and how kids are “walking around with their heads in the sky,” and other things that are associated with the decade in which the song originated, but there are plenty of things that apply to the current period.

I refuse to get overly political, unless I feel so strongly about something, that I can’t just keep quiet. So far, my right to speak freely has yet to be repealed, but I figure it is only a matter of time before that happens.

Link included brings you to the lyrics of the song, but there is a player bar at the bottom of the site’s page if you want to listen to the song.

 

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.