Okay, friends: I saw Order of the Phoenix. And I loved it, probably beyond reason, but definitely not without reason, because it got so much exactly right, and wasn't afraid of taking shortcuts or totally unexpected paths to arrive at an ending that's no less heavy-hitting for all that was left on the cutting-room floor. I loved it. I don't even know how to talk about it properly because I am overwhelmed by it still, although I did just type out a monster e-mail to Kara in reaction to the film, since she loves OotP just like I do, which is to say, 'obsessively.' Seriously, friends, see it, please. I haven't laughed so much, or been so emotionally wrecked, after any of the movies like I am over this one. Sarah and I watched Goblet of Fire last night in preparation, and then attended the midnight showing, and spent the ride home incoherently listing all the things we liked about it. There were a lot of things to list, and at least six hundred details that I loved but forgot to mention. I will spare you all the ranting, but let's just say that I'm a very happy girl today, and all on-edge after seeing my favorite book in the series brought to life onscreen.
I stayed up too late last night, owing to the midnight showing and all the caffeine and adrenaline that were still coursing through my system once it was over. My girl had a death grip on me once I got into bed, so although I felt like tossing and turning, I was forced to stay in place, ear pressed against her chest, my arm falling asleep from the sleep-weight of her. It was good to wake up with Marshall at six a.m., having her slur, "How was the movie?" and listening to me go on about Snape grabbing Harry by the arm before we both drifted off again. And although we both woke up too late and slightly-grouchy, Subramaniam made up for it by showing us a film called "Why We Fight," which was, of course, about U.S. involvement in various wars and how we've managed to justify it. It was really, really good, which meant that I was able to stay awake for it. I've got homework tonight, which would be sad, but luckily, I get to write about an Arundhati Roy selection, and it's fucking awesome, and so I don't mind the work so much at all.
This weekend, Marshall's mom came to stay with us. Since she is the sweetest woman alive, we had a really great time. Belly was spoiled by all our attentions, as you can see, and we watched episodes of Weeds in bed and visited the Biltmore and browsed Pier One and it was just really good, really cozy. She does the same silly wink as Marshall does when she's said something funny, which kills me. And she brought me bitch drinks and pink slipper-socks, oh man, I love mothers so much. I wish my mother could come down, and my grandma, too; I miss having them around. My brother, too, but he seems to be doing pretty well on his own. Look at him and Kamal! Why are my brothers so ridiculous? And cute?
Also this weekend: Jana and I made charts, and played a really scary game in which we listed people, then forced ourselves to bestow a crazy fantasy scenario upon each one. It was more illuminating than most sessions of therapy, and I am not sure what to do with that. But she lives with this dog, Scruffy, which I'm sure I have mentioned before, because I go on and on about this dog. But look at him! He's got a mustache! And he shakes hands compulsively! And is big and old and lumbering! I am definitely a fan of Scruffy. He even watched Shortbus with us, although he seemed pretty unfazed by it.
My cousin Michael friended me on MySpace today, which is weird, because now he knows I'm a lesbian. Which is weird, because my family is not all that close, not when it comes to knowing each other. We're a small family, so you'd think we'd be a bit more close-knit, but honestly, we're all sort of reduced to these sad roles that were established way, way back. Jimmy's the cute cop who's gone through a million girlfriends; Michael is the steady, stable biochem nerd; Lauren is ditzy and boy-crazy and loud; my brother is the awkward jokester; Chad is the quiet one with Crohn's disease (which is a shitty role, but we really don't know each other that well, is my point). I'm the one who's always off in the corner with a book, which I'm okay with. Really, my grandmother's the only one who connects us, and probably the only one who understands us, as well. I love my family, and our predictable holiday get-togethers, but I can't pretend to have a clue to any of them, except for Lauren. So it's weird to see on Michael's profile that he's an atheist, or that he lists his parents as his heroes - these things that MySpace considers basic, but which I never knew about this boy I've known my whole life. Michael used to be my hero, actually; after my great-grandma died, Mike used to stay weekends at my grandma's house, and even though he was too old and cool to be doing it, he'd spend hours entertaining me and Greg, making up fake commericals in the basement and sneaking into our room at night to cast shadow puppets on the ceiling. I wish feeling so close to my family, you know? And totally wonder how long it'll be before the whole family realizes I'm gay and stops asking me when I'm going to find myself a fella.
Because I am photo-happy these days, I'll conclude with a shot of my triceratops, Beau Brummell, with Marshall's teddy bear, Bunky, who has got a bad eye but a big heart. I'm very silly, this summer, but also very stressed-out, trying to balance everything, trying to keep my mind off of endings and remind myself that I've got time enough, and love enough, to make it all happen, somehow. The first thing I've got to make happen, of course, is my homework, so I'm off to do that. Next up: Harry Potter fanfiction? At least I'm being honest, anyway.
P.S. I have been thinking about Ali lately, like, all the time! And now I am on the phone with him! And it is SO GOOD. How lucky, that Ali was the first friend I made at UNCA, and that my love for him just grows and grows.
P.P.S. And he just told me that he took some online quiz and found out that he is a Hufflepuff. Oh, Ali! The quiz is here, incidentally. I am a Ravenclaw, looks like, which is good and all, but I mean, nothing's cuter than Ali being a Hufflepuff.
I stayed up too late last night, owing to the midnight showing and all the caffeine and adrenaline that were still coursing through my system once it was over. My girl had a death grip on me once I got into bed, so although I felt like tossing and turning, I was forced to stay in place, ear pressed against her chest, my arm falling asleep from the sleep-weight of her. It was good to wake up with Marshall at six a.m., having her slur, "How was the movie?" and listening to me go on about Snape grabbing Harry by the arm before we both drifted off again. And although we both woke up too late and slightly-grouchy, Subramaniam made up for it by showing us a film called "Why We Fight," which was, of course, about U.S. involvement in various wars and how we've managed to justify it. It was really, really good, which meant that I was able to stay awake for it. I've got homework tonight, which would be sad, but luckily, I get to write about an Arundhati Roy selection, and it's fucking awesome, and so I don't mind the work so much at all.
This weekend, Marshall's mom came to stay with us. Since she is the sweetest woman alive, we had a really great time. Belly was spoiled by all our attentions, as you can see, and we watched episodes of Weeds in bed and visited the Biltmore and browsed Pier One and it was just really good, really cozy. She does the same silly wink as Marshall does when she's said something funny, which kills me. And she brought me bitch drinks and pink slipper-socks, oh man, I love mothers so much. I wish my mother could come down, and my grandma, too; I miss having them around. My brother, too, but he seems to be doing pretty well on his own. Look at him and Kamal! Why are my brothers so ridiculous? And cute?
Also this weekend: Jana and I made charts, and played a really scary game in which we listed people, then forced ourselves to bestow a crazy fantasy scenario upon each one. It was more illuminating than most sessions of therapy, and I am not sure what to do with that. But she lives with this dog, Scruffy, which I'm sure I have mentioned before, because I go on and on about this dog. But look at him! He's got a mustache! And he shakes hands compulsively! And is big and old and lumbering! I am definitely a fan of Scruffy. He even watched Shortbus with us, although he seemed pretty unfazed by it.
My cousin Michael friended me on MySpace today, which is weird, because now he knows I'm a lesbian. Which is weird, because my family is not all that close, not when it comes to knowing each other. We're a small family, so you'd think we'd be a bit more close-knit, but honestly, we're all sort of reduced to these sad roles that were established way, way back. Jimmy's the cute cop who's gone through a million girlfriends; Michael is the steady, stable biochem nerd; Lauren is ditzy and boy-crazy and loud; my brother is the awkward jokester; Chad is the quiet one with Crohn's disease (which is a shitty role, but we really don't know each other that well, is my point). I'm the one who's always off in the corner with a book, which I'm okay with. Really, my grandmother's the only one who connects us, and probably the only one who understands us, as well. I love my family, and our predictable holiday get-togethers, but I can't pretend to have a clue to any of them, except for Lauren. So it's weird to see on Michael's profile that he's an atheist, or that he lists his parents as his heroes - these things that MySpace considers basic, but which I never knew about this boy I've known my whole life. Michael used to be my hero, actually; after my great-grandma died, Mike used to stay weekends at my grandma's house, and even though he was too old and cool to be doing it, he'd spend hours entertaining me and Greg, making up fake commericals in the basement and sneaking into our room at night to cast shadow puppets on the ceiling. I wish feeling so close to my family, you know? And totally wonder how long it'll be before the whole family realizes I'm gay and stops asking me when I'm going to find myself a fella.
Because I am photo-happy these days, I'll conclude with a shot of my triceratops, Beau Brummell, with Marshall's teddy bear, Bunky, who has got a bad eye but a big heart. I'm very silly, this summer, but also very stressed-out, trying to balance everything, trying to keep my mind off of endings and remind myself that I've got time enough, and love enough, to make it all happen, somehow. The first thing I've got to make happen, of course, is my homework, so I'm off to do that. Next up: Harry Potter fanfiction? At least I'm being honest, anyway.
P.S. I have been thinking about Ali lately, like, all the time! And now I am on the phone with him! And it is SO GOOD. How lucky, that Ali was the first friend I made at UNCA, and that my love for him just grows and grows.
P.P.S. And he just told me that he took some online quiz and found out that he is a Hufflepuff. Oh, Ali! The quiz is here, incidentally. I am a Ravenclaw, looks like, which is good and all, but I mean, nothing's cuter than Ali being a Hufflepuff.
3 comments:
Aw, the sorting hat put me in Ravenclaw too. My top two scores were a tie though between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff though- I wonder how the hat decided?!
anonymous = sarah :)
I took the quiz and it said I was a Ravenclaw, followed closely by Gryffindor. Hmmmm.
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