Soul Mates

After only seventeen years of living, breathing, sinning, laughing and crying, I’m among those lucky few who have found their soul mates. I have found the people in my life that god placed on this earth to walk with me, through all my different issues, boyfriends, hair colors, zip codes.  I have met those individuals who will remain by my side through all phases of my life.  And I’ve never felt more content. 

Dear Boy (written in november but constantly edited)

As much as I enjoyed your company, my therapist is sick and tired of hearing about you. She briskly typed up a letter explaining my point of view and pinned it to my chest, with instructions to deliver to you, since you don’t hear me anymore when I try and talk. You see, though you have deemed my life “pathetic” and have made a dramatic departure, your presence still lingers everywhere.

I know you hate the Eagles. I am sure to root for them every Sunday afternoon when I accidently on purpose turn the loud noise box to the mainstream channel and watch the football game. I know that somewhere, you are watching the same station. I wonder if you think about me whilst I reminisce about you, as the Eagles score another touchdown against your beloved Giants.  What a connection that would be, my dear boy. I can see the sparks flying out of our television sets as they explode with sparks of luminous true love. Or perhaps with hatred, anger, and jealousy. That would be as electrifying as if the bread aisle at Pathmark set ablaze.

You see, my dear boy, that was the spot upon which my feet were glued to when you broke my heart for the first time. Via text message, may I add? My cell phone nearly burst into tears. Or was that I? It is all hazy now due to my prescription drugs that you make fun of me for taking. Was it not a few months ago that this electronic device received declarations of your undying love, and now only your heart-wrenching rejection? My whole body ached along with an odd churning in my stomach that no dose of Pepto Bismol could cure. Stab me with a dagger, it would have felt delightful compared to this pain you put me through, in that lonely bread aisle. But then again, my blood may have run all over that fake white linoleum floor, and stained the four-dollar packages of Sara Lee and Pepperidge Farm.

This is all getting rather dyslexic now, but you know how I get when I’m on my drugs and struggling with my insomnia.  Lets talk fight club. Now, skip the violence and angst; we watched some memorable characters in between our passionate make outs. Maybe you are my Tyler Durden, the every thing that I wish I could be. Maybe I’m your Tyler Durden. I’m everything you ever wanted. So to rid me from your life, must you shoot yourself in the head? Or is breaking my heart in that oh so graceful matter satisfactory to you? My dear boy, that’s not how the screenplay was meant to develop.

And now I cant even remember kissing your lips, or your neck, your chest. Its all such a faint memory and I wonder if any of it really happened. I do recall your horse voice scolding me for biting you, but my dear boy, that’s just how it goes.  I do recall your lack of calls, lack of time for me, lack of love and affection. You were drifting away from me, my dear boy, as Wilson the volleyball floated aimlessly away from Tom Hanks in Cast Away, leaving him broken and cold. You were my lifeboat, my getaway car, my escape goat. I was your scapegoat. I took the punches when you crashed your bloody car. I took the beating when you were cut from the team.

It was ok to be your girlfriend whilst you suffered, but once you claimed so-called victory over our god-forsaken school, I was nothing. Its terribly predictable, my dear boy, not to mention, incredibly conformist.  

            Now my heart left in pieces, which you refuse to return to me, I see the world in a different light. Like a soldier returning from a war in which my legs where blown off, I’m jaded. Lovers are ignorant to how miserable they really are. 

500 Days of Summer

So I saw the must-anticipated indie flick 500 Days of Summer the other night. With my expectations sky high, I prayed that the film wouldn't disappoint. And from the very first scene down to the last shot before the credits rolled, it was brilliant. I will admit that I cried throughout the whole movie. And i never cry during films, with the exception of Moulin Rogue in eighth grade. 

Yes, it had the typical boy meets girl story line, but in this twisted tale the boy never actually gets the girl. True to the tag line, "boy falls in love, girl doesn't." This seemingly simple plot is beefed up with excellent lead actors (Joseph-Gordon Levitt and Zooey Deschanel), quirky humor, and an extremely heartfelt message on love....but for real this time around. Most romantic comedies these days are filled with idealism and I view them more as fairy tales. This is the first film I've ever seen that I can really relate to- and I'm sure all viewers can too. 

Another lovely aspect of the movie was how the director portrayed the sad little love story, in complete disorder, yet perfectly in sequence. This stylistic choice was never confusing, but instead kept me intrigued so that I never felt that the story dragged on. 

The criticisms I have are rather minor. First off, I thought this movie was set in the 70s or late 60s until there was a shot of two characters playing the Nintendo Wii. Maybe that was intentional, to give the movie a retrospective vibe, but the costuming on both leads could have been modernized a little bit. Nothing wrong with a vintage/quirky look,  but it really threw me off for the first 15 minutes of the film. Another change I'd like to make is the casting of Joseph Gordan-Levitt's buddies. To be frank, both these characters sucked. I mean, you consider that one getting embarassingly drunk and bringing boy and girl together as a pivotal plot move, be my guest. But I felt the companionship was so forced. The actors who were supposedly "best friends" had zero connection. But again, maybe that was the director's intent after all. 

Overall, I found this film to be unique and extremely real. It was heart-wrenching that the hero did not win the heart of the girl he was so desperately in love with, but that's what made it all the better. 

Yes, I Swim

I’m angry. It has taken me months to accept that I’ve lost my first love, and bitterness is all that remains. What happened to us? Clearly, it’s your fault. But maybe you aren’t the only person to blame. 

Exactly one year ago, we were in bliss. We explored each other, and jumped into a pool of oblivion. We played underwater, daring each other to plummet deeper and deeper. I practically reached the bottom. But it was you who surfaced first. And much too fast. I’m surprised that your lungs didn’t burst with the pressure of rising at much too great a speed. Now that you regained conscious, what to do with me? I still was submerged underwater. You hoisted yourself out, leaving only your legs in our lovely pool, attempting to let me down easy. Except you treaded over me. Then, without warning, you kicked me. You kicked me out of lovely oblivion, all the while thinking it was best for me. I emerged, humiliated that the water had kept me down so long. I was the last out of the pool, while everyone else sat, laughing. There was no sympathy.

Now that I was back on land, I didn’t dare lounge by the poolside for a friendly chat with you regarding our swim. I found another pool of oblivion and dove in, where I will stay, doing underwater spins and possibly treading water. From time to time, you throw rocks into this new pool of mine. Perhaps, not to hurt me, but to just remind me of your dreadful existence. It's comforting, in a sick way. Nevertheless, I continue to submerge myself in the waters.  But this time, I will not stray to far from the surface, never going too deep.  I drowned once, and there is no way that will ever happen again. 

The Results of a Few False Steps: Straight from the Lab

It’s hard to ignore the elephant in the room when in comes charging out of my cell phone. You are strategically placed on the other end of the line, clutching your electronic device eagerly. With every text, the pressure mounts. You are growing impatient, I can tell. But what you failed to calculate that you can’t be “friends with benefits” with someone who isn’t a friend. You lack all tact as you silently wish I would live up to my reputation. A reputation that I didn't even know I had. And all this time I thought it was my personality that kept you coming back. 

A fresh start

I needed a clean slate. In my fury, I deleted everything I ever wrote in my last blog. Let's try this again....