Silver Fox

I realize I'm a little late but I just found out Anderson Cooper is gay. I think I just died a little.

Eloquent, Ivy-leaguer, politically and socially aware, a possible CIA plant... Honestly, what does a sparkly vampire have on him? He's my ultimate dream MAN. After my boyfriend, that is.

If before I had a 1 in 3.5 billion chance with him now I have ZERO.

500 Days of Summer

This isn't really a movie review, in any case it's way too late for that.  

My boyfriend Toni and I watched 500 Days of Summer some time ago, after I watched it with friends a day before, a sort-of censorship screening if you will. I’m very mindful of the films we watch together as he does have a tendency to over-internalize. We could be watching a movie about a faithless lover, a nagger of a wife or a neurotic nut, it hardly matters, at the end of the film he will turn to me and, with sincere worry, ask “are you gonna be like that?” or in the case of the nut, he’ll scoff and go “you are soooo like that!” It gets annoying.  

I was afraid 500 Days was one of those movies we were gonna have to avoid. I hate the-one-that-got-away stories the most. We both like to pretend we’re each other's "first" love. In his case he says I don’t need to pretend as I am the first girl he factored in his life in a real way. *Melts*  

Back to the movie, as my friend Patty so aptly surmised, “(500 Days) is a movie about a girl he can’t get over but, it’s also a movie about why he should.”  

As far as stories about love that aren’t love stories go, this one’s really accessible. I abhor romantic comedies with their requisite public-declaration-of-love scenes. Who does that? No one does that! Making a complete tush of yourself does not a love story make.  I can’t stand cringe-inducing scenes and  rom-coms are ripe with them.

I’d like to believe the reason I’m so unimpressed and unaffected by rom-coms despite being the quintessential romantic, girly-girl that I am is that they have nothing on my stories. How can I suffer their trite and worn out lines when I’ve heard (and on occasion, given) the most stirring and poignant of them all? My stories are better, even the bad ones are better in that they are so much more horrible. I’ve had better. I’ve heard better. I’ve been better. But enough gloating.
I thoroughly enjoyed 500 Days. It’s not just because I enjoyed seeing the girl (Summer/ Zooey Deschanel), inflict damage on the guy (Tom/ Joseph Gordon Levitt) for a change. Not really. In fact it bothered me how much I understood where she was coming from. I couldn’t hate her, I saw too much of my friends in her.  

As for me, I'm nobody's Summer (as far as I know). I'm much too kind (or much too cruel, it depends on which guy ask). I'm Autumn.     

The soundtrack was well thought out. I’m a fan of the Smiths and I think Carla Bruni is a goddess and I LOVE LOVE LOVE She’s Like the Wind.

I live for weekends...

This week  was  a  nauseating  blur of unpleasantries for both Toni  and myself. I wish we could leave it all behind. Walk away. Without so much as backward glance. Head to a deserted beach. And stay there. Read books. Eat coconuts. Hunt for hermit crabs. The whole day.

Then at nights...well, I didn't think that far ahead. But I'm sure we'll figure something out.

(I don't like talking about what happens at work. Oddly enough, I find that's too personal to blog about. I can, however, talk about my boyfriend. In fact, as vapid as it makes me seem, he's my favorite subject. That's no secret. We don't have anything dark and twisty going on that I can't talk about. We're happy, healthy and crazy about each other. It's annoying, I know. I love it.)

Nevertheless, I love February. There's so much to celebrate. Have a good Vday, everyone. Be especially kind to your single friends!


Percy Jackson, my hero!

I never got around to finishing book #4 of January. There were too many to choose from and I couldn't stick to just one. I ended up reading the first few chapters of several books. My fickle nature will be the death of me. My boyfriend Toni thinks I have ADHD, which brings to mind book number #1 for Feb: Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Theif.  That was a mouthful! 

I watched the movie before I read the book, which is good, otherwise I'd spend the whole lenght of the movie comparing the two, out loud! I'm one of those annoying movie-goers who can't stay quiet. I'm also a sucker for Greek-mythology and I'd watch pretty much anything with Sean Bean. I even watched Silent Hill!

My boyfriend took to calling me goddess or demi-goddess, because in Percy Jackson-verse, a sure sign of divine parentage is dyslexia and ADHD. I pointed out that I don't have ADHD. He replied, "are you sure?"

No. I'm not actually sure. I did date a guy with ADHD for quite awhile and he'd blame it for his tool-like behavior. I'm nothing like him!

The story behind the Percy Jackson is just as great, if not better, as the the series itself. Percy Jackson, diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD, began as a character in a bedtime story Rick Riordan created for his own son, Hailey who himself was diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD. As most dyslexia goes, nine year old Haley had trouble reading, but he was very interested in Greek mythology. When Riordan ran out of Greek myths for the boy, he took up Hailey's suggestion and came up with his own. So began the adventures of Percy Jackson, ADHD and dyslexia addled, modern day son of sea-god Poseidon.

To write off Percy Jackson as a Harry Potter Xerox is to miss the point. While Riordan credits J.K. Rowling as an influence, he explains that both Harry Potter and Percy Jackson are similar, in that they are modeled after the same archetype: an outcast protagonist with horrible monsters standing between him and his great destiny. Lots of stories follow a similar structure and are no less loved for it.

Hailey, now 15 has only praises for the character he inspired. In one interview, he was quoted:

"Percy has changed my life.You read a lot of books and none of them have a hero who is ­dyslexic or has ADHD – it's always perfect people in a perfect world ­doing perfect things. Percy is, in fact, very flawed and he has to fight against that and at the same time fight monsters."

It warms the cockles of my cold little heart, truly it does. Dyslexia is far from being a badge of honor but the more attention it gets the better it is for those suffering from it. It wasn't even a part of my lexicon until high school and even then, I didn't think I had it. I could read, faster than most people in fact. Everything else that didn't seem to function normally with me, I chalked up to something else.

Growing up, there were only two kinds of students: good and bad. You were good if you kept your notebook neat, if you could copy everything from the blackboard, if you're good at spelling, if you can do long division without giving yourself a migrane. I couldn't do any of that. I was a lazy, daydreaming kid who never tried hard enough.

My notebooks/workbooks were a joke as I could never finish copying anything. Often, I'd mirror write, that is, write from right to left insted of the reverse. One of my most vivid school memories was of me volunteering to answer one of the math equations on the board, I got the answer right but the next thing I knew the whole class was laughing and I couldn't understand why. Eventually, after a fit of giggles, my teacher finally condescended to explain that I wrote my answer backwards. That was the last time I ever volunteered for anything that involved writing on the blackboard.

I would go on misspelling words, confusing dance steps, avoiding arithmetic at all cost and writing in my chicken scratch penmanship. Oddly enough, I fell in love with books and grew up to be a voracious reader.

Years later, it took all but 10 minutes for a neurologist to deduce what was wrong with me. It was a dinner party and we were sharing a table. I don't know what it was exactly that made him suspect. Perhaps he noticed how rattled I got with a harmless "left or right" question. He asked me if I make a lot of spelling errors, reverse my letters, etc.. Apparently, he was guilty of all the same things. That's how his dyslexia manifested.

I was just relieved there's someone to tell me I'm not an idiot. Not that I ever believed I was an idiot, but certainly I knew something was wrong with me. I still misspell words a lot (thank you Lord for spell checkers!) and I'll hesitate for a split second if you ask me a "left or right" question. But that's as bad as it gets. I'm an otherwise perfectly functional human being. I wish I could hunt down all my elementary teachers and tell them that. Kids aren't necessarily dumb or lazy if they can't read, spell or if they're not good in maths (it's not the theory, it's the numbers!). I'd bet my appendix and my spleen that I'm smarter and I've read more books than 3/4 of those kids who ever laughed at me.
To keep to the spirit of this post I wont use the spell checker. Enjoy deciphering through my mess. Be glad this wasn't hand-written.

one-woman book club, January edition

At the beginning of the year I promised myself I'd make time to catch up on my reading. I've decided on a MINIMUM of 4 books a month (48 books by the end of the year).  I will chronicle my progress in this blog.

As of today I'm 3 out of four and I still have 6 more days to go. More than enough time for another book.

1. Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides.
- I've read this before way back in the early 2000s but I'm still counting this one. However, in the future, rereads will not be included. I love Jeffrey Eugenides. He's one of the very few authors I read solely for his writing style. He could write an intruction manual for a lear jet and I'd still read it!

2. Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
- Honestly, I don't know why I keep reading Malcolm Gladwell. Curiosity, perhaps? Meh. Tipping Point wasn't bad. But there's no chance of a reread for this one. Ever.

3. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
- I love Nick Hornby. Almost as much as I love his characters. I can't believe I waited this long to read High Fidelity. I've seen the movie and although I feel it was charmingly done and perfectly cast (John Cusak and Jack Black esp.), I even like it better set in Chicago, I'm a written-word kind of girl and very few movies will ever be as good as its book version. Except maybe the Lord of the Rings series. Sorry, Tolkien.


Lost my muchness, have I?

I've been blogging since 2003.  My only hope is that this one wont make me cringe too much to when I read back on my entries years from now. Keeping a blog has become a necessity, more than anything, since I sold-out gave up full-time writing.

I've given up, set-aside and forgotten a lot of other things over the years. I'm going to try my bestest to remember why they were once so important to me. I'm on a mission to reclaim my lost muchness.