Monday, April 21, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
|Moving = Putting on fast food weight|
The exhaustion is fiendish.
What's in all these boxes? I don't know. Will I ever finish removing what seems to be multiplying quantities of bits and bobs from my last apartment? I don't know. What do I know? I don't know. I'm too tired. Where am I?
I'm so tired and have so much on my mind. I want to write it all down, sit at my keyboard and bleed, like the adage goes, but I want it to mean something and not just be rambling. My brain feels like congealed pudding. I don't want to share my pudding.
I will tell you one realization I've had in the last couple of days, when mental and physical exertion beyond what I feel like coping with have made what's really bothering me surface.
I want to fall in love. Feeling stimulated and passionate and blissfully fixated on something to the point of delirium is what I am in agonizing need of finding.
The next book I'm planning on reading is Gone Girl, because I'm the kind of girl who avoids popular books until a good-looking movie trailer for it pops up. Usually I'm dissuaded by a book's best-seller status, since it's too likely it'll be Twilight-level bad.
But Ben Affleck is like a sleeper crush to me.
From the Kindle sample I read and a couple of editorial reviews, I think the novel is going to make me feel stupid. Not just because it'll keep me guessing, but because it'll be so brilliantly executed and lyrical and all the things that I think I'll never be able to do with my writing. But maybe I need to read a book by someone so talented it pisses me off. Maybe that's the creative push I need, since what this pointless post proves is that I have writer's block. I have all kinds of blocks, you know. Writing is this quiet constant in a very unstable existence I've led. It's this fact of who I am but something I've never devoted all my focus to, but I feel like if I do, if I just tune the world out and devote myself to writing, I'll feel fulfilled. I'll find whatever it is I'm looking for.
Right now, I can't even find the box with my DVDs or my MAC Mineralize powder.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Reading: I've been reading Danielle LaPorte's The Fire Starter Sessions. The premise is that we need to revise how we think about our ambitions and finding what makes us happy. Instead of identifying the things that will make us happy, we should be identifying our core desired feelings and then seek experiences that will get us there. It's loaded with worksheets and immensely quotable. It's not the sort of thing that's linear and can be put into practice all at once, right away, but it's a perfect template for what I'm doing right now: a deliberate, controlled burn of my life. I am perhaps for the first time in my life questioning my motivations about what I want.
Watching: I'm all caught up on Once Upon A Time and having to endure the weeklong drag between episodes just like everyone else. I hate the Wicked Witch. I want Regina to tear her limb from limb. This last episode had some great Regina moments, like her hissing at Zelena, "Never bring your heart to a witch fight." Should I start writing episode recaps? I think that might be fun, even if no one reads them.
Moving: About 3 miles north! We're renting in another duplex, in a much nicer, cleaner neighborhood. We had the best of intentions to stay at this place (because our lease would be going month-to-month starting in May, so we could just pick up and go once we get it together and buy a house). But location, space and sheer reluctance to pack up all our crap again cannot blind me to the horror of neighbors who think it's OK to dump mattresses and vodka bottles on the property. Frozen dirty diapers in the yard plus a view from the kitchen of bags of dog poo hanging from tree branches (10 points if you get it in the tree!) are amenities I can do without. I'll laugh about this place. One day.
Coveting: MAC Toying Around Lipstick (last shade swatched here). It's unlike any shade I own or have even seen. So freaking beautiful.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
I have dozens of excuses for why I've been scarce around my blog lately. You know, I used to think a quarter life crisis was no more than a self-indulgent delusion, that anyone having one was being childish and in need of a good slap.
Well, just call me Little Lizzie and don't hit the left side of my face. It's my good side.
Aside from spiraling into another existential reckoning — one that may have done some good for me, this time — I've devoted approximately 1,980 minutes, or 33 hours, in the past week or so to watch the first two seasons of Once Upon A Time.
How am I so late to the Enchanted Forest party? This show is so my scene. It puts all the fairy tale characters in our world and flashes back to their lives before a curse landed them in this universe. This storytelling method of converging plot lines and gradual revelations in the present through backstory is one that I've loved since reading Holes (it was done to masterful effect in The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, too). It's the kind of life-affirming, just-cheesy-enough show to make me an emotional wreck every other episode. It's got enough twists and warped family trees to make the Doctor say, "All right, slow down, you're confusing me." That's a reason I'm glad that I'm watching it all in one go — it's much easier to keep the story straight without the lag between episodes that would make it likely I'd forget details.
Most of all, I love that Once Upon A Time takes the fairy tale, a realm of fiction where you can't get any more black and white, good vs. evil, and sketches in colors and dimensions that challenge the viewer. Maybe the Evil Queen has a heart that can be redeemed. Maybe Red Riding Hood was the wolf all along. Maybe the lost girl can be the savior. Anyone who I've ever talked about literature or TV to knows how much I love archetypes, and nothing is cooler than when they are expertly turned inside out.
I'm so in love with the characters. Their fairy tale versions and real-world counterparts are compelling and well-developed, from the most minor character to the heroes. I love a show that allows me to say ridiculous comments like, "Oh my gosh, Rumplestiltskin just beat the crap out of someone," and "Ugh, I can't stand Mulan." Among my many favorites are:
Emma Swan. Reluctant heroine. Mother. Daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Keeping law and order in Storybrooke, slaying dragons with her daddy's sword and being an all-around BAMF.
Regina Mills. Evil, or just ... misguided? Villainess in couture. Her mind is even more dangerous than her magic.
Captain Hook. The target of my unabashed objectification. Driving the ladies wild with suggestive zingers, leather and guyliner. Here's another picture, just because.
Love a bad boy, me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got Season 3 to powerstream.