Entertainment nostalgia

A contradiction of my brain is that I crave constant, novel stimulation, yet can happily rewatch the same Doctor Who episodes I committed to memory 10 viewings ago, and my iTunes Top 25 Most Played list includes about 23 songs it did in 2012. I love retracing those psychic grooves.

Which makes me think I can please both cravings by revisiting entertainment from back when I was a wee lass. What might I get out of old pleasures now that I have more life experience? (I remember watching Breakfast at Tiffany's as a kid vs. a few years ago. It was like watching two different films. The hooker subtext was totally over my head!) I'll listen to a song I loved in high school, for example, and my mind is blown because I at last understand it. I've lived it. It's like the universe planted stuff in my head years ago in anticipation of the day it would be useful. What insights lurked in plain sight of the girl I used to be?
Among my nostalgic options:

Fight Club

I went through a heavy Chuck Palahniuk phase in high school. My crush at the time got me into him. I was pretty sheltered and naive at the time and probably read everything with one hand shielding my gaping mouth. Now I'm more educated and will probably pick up on themes that I missed. I'd like to reenter the seedy, transgressive psychothriller that inspired one of my favorite movies with my more worldy, less innocent perspective.

And! I just heard about the upcoming graphic novel sequel! Hot damn, I'm rereading that book for sure!

Negotiating With the Dead/anything Atwood

Margaret Atwood is a literary rockstar, a living legend whose prose is nourishing nectar to mere mortals. I vividly remember getting too carried away during an interview for an internship about how jealous I was of her writing. I fangirled hard (it was OK — I got the gig, and people find my enthusiasm endearing).

Now that I'm contemplating getting serious about my writing, I want to analyze with care how the master does it. I want to revisit her fiction and the copy of her book on the craft and life of a writer, which I picked up at the college bookstore freshman year.


A couple of years ago, I rewatched the pilot of Roswell, one of my favorite TV shows when it aired originally. It was my introduction to sci-fi and I was so into the sexy aliens and the romance. You know what I realized upon rewatching? Twilight completely ripped off Roswell! Girl meets boy. Girl has near-death experience and is saved by boy, which reveals the boy is something beyond human. Girl figures it out. Boy confesses. Boy's siblings are mad as hell that their very existence is threatened by their lovelorn brother revealing their lifelong secret.

Roswell did it much better. I want to rewatch the whole series to see whether I still love it as much. I remember thinking it had so much to offer.

All I need is some Fun Dip and some Power Rangers jammies to get this nostalgia party going.


Review: DevaCurl Curl Discovery Kit

Via Folica
I've written about my dalliance with the Curly Girl Method, and it all started with the DevaCurl Curl Discovery Kit. Since then, I've tried a truckload of other DevaCurl products to cleanse, refresh my curls and add shine. But the kit covers the basics, and some of the products have made their way into my regular routine.

The No-Poo cleanser smells wonderful and makes my scalp feel tingly and refreshed. It's not a BioFreeze, chilly tingle — it just feels really clean. It has great slip, and my hair feels hydrated and easy to detangle even before I use conditioner. Since then, I've tried the Low Poo, which lathers but doesn't make my hair feel as clean, just stripped. So I went back and bought the big ol' liter of No-Poo with a pump.

One Condition didn't wow me. It's not something that I would buy on its own. This didn't make my hair feel very soft or do anything that TRESemme Naturals doesn't do for a fraction of the cost (it's 5 bucks for a huge bottle) and also without silicones.

DevaCurl Light Defining Gel is another one I repurchased after trying it in this kit. Some days my hair likes it better than others. It can give me amazing curl definition and hold, or it can leave my hair crunchy and stringy like ramen noodles. It's not a be-all, end-all, especially when you can get gel for $3 that probably works just as well.

The Frizz-Free Volumizing Foam did nothing for me. I don't think it adds anything and I just didn't see the point of including it in the kit when something like the Mist-er Right lavender spray or the Shine Spray would have been a more useful bonus.

The kit also includes a microfiber towel. You can dry and avoid frizz the same way with a T-shirt or a cheaper microfiber towel, but since this was included, I use it all the time and really like it.

So to summarize: This kit is a great introduction to DevaCurl and the Curly Girl Method and was a perfect starting point for me as a novice of the wash-and-go. While I think the Deva products are overpriced and I'm always seeking alternatives at the drugstore, the No-Poo is fabulous and the one product in the set that I'm happy to splurge on. I don't think I could ever get on board with co-washing on its own (using just conditioner and friction to clean the scalp), but this product makes saying no to shampoo in favor of something gentler enjoyable.


Humpday Confessions

Vodka and Soda

Lean a little bit closer so I can tell you some stuff.

  • My default mental state is 12-year-old boy, but at the zoo, I become a 6-year-old girl. I mean, yelling at the penguins to jump into the water, tearing up about how sad the elephants look, wanting to take a lemur home with me. I could stare at flamingo necks all day. I love feeling like a little kid again. That's so freeing.
This has to be one of the best pictures I've ever taken.
  • I was a bride before Pinterest. Which I suppose makes me elderly. Pinterest launched in March 2010, and I got married in May 2010. I never even heard of the site until my friend Brittany mentioned it when we were in the Bahamas several years later. I have to tell you, I hate wedding shit on Pinterest. More than anything, I hate wedding boards made by girls who aren't even dating anyone, like, "I'm going to plan this big party that's all about me and I'll just insert the guy's face here once I actually meet him." You do you, ladies, but can't you designate that shit as a Secret Board so you don't seem crazy? Like I do with my baby board, for instance.
  • One reason I don't really do Facebook anymore is that it was a breeding ground for hate crushing. When my life was going shittily along, I spent so much time cyberstalking people I didn't like, looking for evidence that their existences were as dreadful as I thought they deserved. That has to be one of the worst expenditures of energy, that schadenfreude defense mechanism. It sets you up for a karmic smackdown. Now I just skip Facebook, and I love the hell out of people in my life because I only spend energy ON people I love. Always love, man.

  • I submitted a short story for publication in an anthology last month. It was promptly rejected. Writing it was the most intense creative experience of my life so far — a spiritual bloodletting through my fingertips and into my keyboard. I showed it to one person before I sent it off. That was like putting all my internal organs on a platter, handing that platter over with a magnifying glass, and tap dancing without my organs while someone took notes. When I got the rejection email, I had a flash of "What was the point of even writing this?" 

  • But you know, I'm so glad that I wrote it. I'm glad I got that first soul-crushing rejection out of the way. Writing that story was proof that I CAN write. That I can start with zero words and see something through to completion. That I can write something that's provocative and brazen and so not like me and survive. That makes me feel like I'm taking a step closer to who I should be.
  • My newest show is Louie, and I'm haunted by Parker Posey's turn as a MPDG who works at a bookstore and makes Louie put on a dress, buy a homeless man medication so he stops hallucinating snakes and climb a bajillion flights of stairs to see the city. I'm so moved by the speech she gives him when he begs her to not sit on the ledge of the building.

You're still not getting my ass on the roof of a building, though.


Feed your head

This lady needs to be pampered.

I've been spectral. A wisp of vapor swirling in a cloud of stress. My psyche is showing wear and tear. My right calf is stained in bruises that prove why normal people learn to ride bikes as children, not when they're pushing 30. My skin has forgotten that I'm pushing 30 and is punishing me for my neglect with mean little zits and flakiness. And where are all my clothes? Oh, right. People are supposed to wash those.

I'm languorous and craving a massage and a day in bed. Maybe a milk bath and a glass of red wine, and I'm not even a vino girl. Good thing I have the next four days off from work! Maybe I'll just watch White Oleander and have a good ol'-fashioned ugly cry — you know, the kind of cry that goes DEEP and cleans everything out, and suddenly you're sobbing about being pushed onto the asphalt as a kid and skinning your knee and not winning the district spelling bee. Ridiculous, ancient, primal wounds, purged. That kind of cry.

Above all, I'm in the mood to treat my senses.

First, some jams. A little mix of sexy throwbacks and newbies I made you:

Groovy Monday by Liz on Grooveshark

Next, scent. Into The Gloss is my new obsession, and its fragrance section might be my favorite among an embarrassment of curated riches of novel beauty tips, culture and on-point writing. I could read it all day. I've been thinking of my favorite fragrance notes and what I'd want in the mix when I one day have my own celebrity fragrance (writers get contracts for celebrity fragrances, right? Right). If I were a fragrance, I'd be some blend of ylang ylang, incense, hyacinths and chocolate chip cookies. And leather. Because I'm a bad bitch.

Want some eye candy? Here's a list I found via Stumble Upon of 30 Places You'd Rather Be with spectacular pictures.

If taste is what needs titillating, here's some food to fap to.

And finally, while you can't cuddle them through your screen, no bad mood is immune to the charms of Cute Roulette. Click through for hours of time wasted awwwwing over adorable baby animals being silly.

Happy Monday!