and after the sugar rush comes the crash…
Gag me with a ladle.
I read New Moon.
It’s like she read Wuthering Heights and said, “Gee, those two kids aren’t nearly angsty or psycho enough; what can I do to add to that?” Also she decided to portray them in a more “romantic” light by adding a thousand and one positive (or purple-prosaic) adjectives to the tale.
And she’s not so good at the subtle paralleling Romeo and Juliet, either. I always hated that story because the kids were far too impulsive for their own good. And I had no patience for those who would romanticize them because they die. What is the point of making a grand romantic gesture when it ends in death? I fail to understand.
Ugh.
Excuse me while I go throw up.
I started to read Eclipse, but I couldn’t get past her father’s (extremely accurate) Voice of Reason, which she (of course) promptly disregards.
“I don’t think you should dump all your other friends for your boyfriend, Bella,” he said in a stern voice. ”It’s not nice, and I think your life would be better balanced if you kept some other people in it. What happened last September…”
I flinched.
“Well,” he said defensively. ”If you’d had more of a life outside of Edward Cullen, it might not have been like that.”
“It would have been exactly like that,” I muttered.
What.
The.
Hell.
What is wrong with her? What is wrong with people, that Bella’s life is full of acceptable logic? What is the draw for these books?
I have to laugh, because otherwise I’d turn all glitter-rage-sparkle-vengeance and smash.
I’ve had a few relationships. I was even deeply invested in them. There was one, in fact, that sent me into the spiraling depths of despair that Bella describes. However, I knew that if I spent time obsessing sulking dwelling on it, I’d turn into a zombie too.
So I threw my time and energy into my friends, various activities, and lots (and lots) of Friends. (What can I say. We all have our forms of escapism.) And hey guess what. As time went on, I was able to see that he wasn’t the best thing to happen to me, and that I was okay without him, and I was even happy.
I didn’t throw myself into a crutch relationship with another boy. I didn’t wake my apartment-mates screaming. I didn’t fall into a catatonic state. I moved on.
And actually, it’s better this way; I’m infinitely happier (and healthier) with the bf than I was with the ex. (Yeah, the ex could give Edward lessons in co-dependent psycho emotional-abuse.)
So I have very little patience for her stubbornness and her inability to pull herself out of the moping. SMeyer tries to make her sound heroic, cast her in a sympathetic light for all her suffering, but it just makes me wish I could reach into the book and throttle her. I don’t blame any of her “friends” for refusing to speak to her. (Poor, puny mortals with your normal lives and your average human qualities.)
::stretches for something positive to say::
Jacob is the healthiest of all the characters that she’s written. (so far; I hear has a weird personality transplant in Eclipse.) But honey, as the brilliant cleolinda puts it,
(Jacob, give up. Also, any guys somehow reading this: sometimes, girls get fixated on guys, to the point where they’ll drop whatever they’re doing, whoever they’re with, to run to them. Give up on those girls. If they can’t collect themselves and make that choice to stay with you, they’re not ready to treat you with any kind of respect. I’m saying this from an observer’s experience here.)
yeah. It’s sad but true. Don’t waste your time. Somebody worthwhile is bound to notice you; don’t spend your time bashing your head against a brick wall.
also, she ties in WH very well.
[Jacob is] far too good and normal for her. Notice how she can’t even pay attention to him? It’s because she’s exactly like Cathy Earnshaw–she can’t function unless she’s got Heathcliff to bounce her angst off. (Have I ever told you my theory that Wuthering Heights is not romance but actually horror, about two emotional sadomasochists who lay waste to everyone around them, using them as pawns in their own personal war of attrition? Because, I mean… that’s pretty much the whole theory. ~The More You Know~)
It makes me sad fills me with frustrated anger. The whole mopey “I’m not worth it” angst that Bella has, Edward’s inability to understand how she could believe him when he lied to her face (also the lack of apology and how she just kinda went “oh well I still love you let’s just forget anything bad ever happened” and got annoyed with her dad for being normal and a father)…
::deep breath::
These books are sooo bad! There’s no concept of adulthood! It’s written from a teenager’s standpoint, and of course they already know everything, so anyone who could offer a voice of reason is portrayed as distant or helpless in some other way (see: Renee’s childlike view of the world as well as her physical distance, Charlie’s inability to cook as well as his emotional distance, and the blatant portrayal of Billy Black in a wheelchair).
And those who could be adults, even though they are eternally 17-25? Carlisle and Esme are distant until after confrontation, always about twelve paces back, unable to tell Edward to take a chill pill and stop being such a drama queen, even when he needs a giant (and swift) kick to the pants. Emmett and Rosalie are perpetually in their own world, apparently stuck at the emotional maturity of their physical age. The ones who become the usual “adults” in situations are also hobbled: Jasper’s bloodlust, suddenly a huge issue, and Alice’s inability to take charge because she’s a woman. (Notice how she won’t do anything proactive, only reactive, even though she can see the future. Jasper’s leaving? I must comfort. Edward’s off to kill himself? I must prevent. Edward’s scheming to keep Bella captive? I must assist!)
Augh. I need to go read some good fiction.
Sherlock Holmes, here I come.
aaand a new obsession begins, or How I Lost My Entire Weekend
I caved. I finally read Twilight. All the way through. (for those of you who have been here a while, I attempted to do so back in… February? March? but couldn’t finish because it was mind-numbingly awful of my many social obligations.)
However. A new day breaks, and a new obsession begins.
(Except when I say “obsession,” I mean, you know, a mild sort of amused interest.)
I bring you a new word, guys. ”Lolfan,” defined as those who have read Twilight, understand the insane compulsion to somehow finish the books no matter how bad they get, and can still function in society without beginning a desperate search for “their Edward.” (or comparing their significant others to the aforementioned fictional character.)
“I pretty much made up this word just now to describe the kind of people (i.e., me) who read these books for the sole purpose of snarking on them and yet cannot stop oh God please send help. Levels of affection for the subject matter may vary; macros and icons are often involved. Twatlighters (see below) are a good example of lolfans.”
These are my people! My long-lost tribe, my band of brothers! (I fear, however, that no one will ever share my strange fascination with quoting obscure sections of Henry V. Thanks, Dad.)
But. I still can’t stand Bella. Sorry. I tried. (but blech.)
If you would like to add joy to your life, regardless of your status on the whole “fan” scale, read Growing Up Cullen, in which Edward is characterized as a 40 year old mother on a bad day due to all the other Cullens’ constant crazy-making and poor angsty Edward is all on his lonesome… scrapbooking and listening to Nickelback cds. Nobody understands him, you guys.
(and oh, the late-to-the-party glee I have: there’s more).
…hours of clicking later…
Oh sweet lord of the rings. What have I stumbled clumsily across?
He had reddish, blonde-brown hair that was groomed heterosexually. He looked older than the other boys in the room — maybe not as old as God or my father, but certainly a viable replacement. Imagine if you took every woman’s idea of a hot guy and averaged it out into one man. This was that man.
Nightlight, a Twilight parody.
There goes my entire November. See you guys on the other side.
oh. and yes, I’m going to see Jacob’s abs that movie. but only because my boyfriend’s sister is dragging both of us!
A cautionary tale
I regret:
…letting go of the one who cared enough to try to understand me, who would massage my feet after a long day, who took me to the beach for our break-up scene so that we’d have a suitable backdrop for the emotional turmoil and pain we were experiencing.
…falling heedlessly into a series of relationships (to use the term loosely) with men who cared little for my mind and even less for my soul, and losing a piece of me each time.
…allowing someone to seduce me easily, with beautiful words and poignant memories, who effortlessly twisted me into his personal plaything at his beck and call, leaving behind a broken shell after he lost interest.
…letting fear control me and allowing the opinion of others to weigh more than my own.
…choosing to follow another’s advice instead of my own intuition.
…remaining silent.
<.>
Dear reader,
Don’t make the same mistakes.
Forbidden
Ever have those cravings? The untouchable, the unattainable, the forbidden… I tend to sympathize with the character of Eve more than curse her, because I would probably do the same thing.
With some people, you have an instant camaraderie, as if sliding on an old shoe that hugs your foot perfectly. And with a precious few, there is a spark, the faintest tinge of electricity arcing between you, and you’re almost afraid to touch lest you accidentally set your surroundings on fire.
But realistically speaking… how often does that actually happen?
Monday’s child
Here’s a fun rhyme I just re-discovered, thanks to Wikipedia. Thought I’d share.
What child are you?
Guess which one I am.
Meaning
Before you judge this blog for being named after a quotation from a movie such as The Mummy, pause a moment.
When you were younger, did you ever believe in fairy tales? Did you ever look behind you because you felt certain that the next step forward would send you into a future as dizzying and uncertain as those of the whirlwind adventures from books?
When we were younger, life seemed to be made of fairy tales and hokum. Once we’ve grown up, it seems that we have forgotten Meaning. Work is not the center of our universe. Life is about the little moments that cause our pulses to pound, palms to sweat, and imaginations to race.
This blog will be a collection of vignettes, both fictional and non, about life, Meaning, fairy tales and hokum.
(And hopefully it won’t be too pretentious. I tend to be slightly schizophrenic in my writing styles, and apparently tonight’s came out a little poncy.)
