Movie: Stardust

Watched Stardust Friday night when FruggieChick and Sinister were over for dinner. The film is based on the book, which is based on the graphic novel, both written by Neil Gaiman (best author ever! Go, read his books, right now!). The film starred Charlie Cox, Claire Danes, Robert DeNiro, and Michelle Pheiffer, and Ian McKellen as the Narrator. Fabulous film! So much fun.

Tristan sets out to collect a fallen star to give to Victoria as proof of his love. He finds that the star is actually a woman named Yvaine. Adventure ensues - witches, pirates, goats, and dead princes abound. And along the way, guess what? Tristan and Yvaine fall in love. It is classic fantasy, classic fairy tale, with a few twists along the way.

Yvaine asks at one point why Tristan came to collec the fallen star. Tristan says that it is to prove his love to Victoria. Yvaine asks what Victoria is doing to prove her love for him. It is a valid question.

Why should I strive so hard in a relationship to prove myself? My realtionship with Dipshit is a classic example. I bent over backwards to accomodate and please him, yet I never recieved anything in return. Well, I did, but it wasn't anything I wanted. My heartfelt concern and effort was rewarded with a drunken fight (him drunk, not me) that ended with me having a bruised rib and him walking 6 miles home in the snow, in full uniform. I chucked his helmet out after him in the front yard.

That was nearly a year and half ago. And it rankled me so that to this day, I don't know who I was when I was in that relationship. I look back on my journals and artwork from that time period, and it seems alien. I did a response piece about a year after the end of the relationship. I had recently found some writings from when we were together, and it made me sick.

The image, besides here, can be found in my portfolio. This is the text of the writings I found that disturbed me so:

I was standing there with the fridge door wide open. He hates when I do this and I could see him out of the corner of my eye, watching. I was trying to decide what to cook. If it was just me, I’d eat rice and cheese…

Into the car, and he’s already lit a cigarette. It would be so much easier without him. But he has to come along, always. I think he’s afraid to be left alone, afraid he will miss something, afraid I won’t come back. I love him for this, this dependency that feeds…

I grab a cart and watch him wander away, idly looking at salad dressings while I judiciously squeeze apples. One, two, four, nine items into the cart. Hamburger and green beans (French cut) and instant potatoes and tomato sauce…

“Do you want a soda?” I ask every time at the checkout. He grabs two, always. Diet Coke and Mountain Dew. It always strikes me as a symbol of us. Conservative and caffeinated. Sensible and destructive. But never both, and never at the same time, and never the same person…

The fight is gone now. His cigarette smoke fills my car and he smiles. I love him, and he loves me. Most days anyway, until the fight is gone…

It was dated February 16, 2007. It was a little over month before the breakup.

Movie stats
IMDB rating: 8 out of 10 stars
GoP rating: 9 out of 10 stars, why did you not see this already?
Pairing: Tristan and Yvaine, Dunstan and Una

From the Field

Spent most of the day at the emergency room on Fort with Nessa and her mom. Mom2.0 fell this morning and broke her wrist. It was mostly just a long day of waiting and trying to distract Mom2.0 from the pain.

I'm not really sure why I went with Nessa this morning, but she says she's glad that I did. The boredom of the hospital was totally worth the cute OR dude. He had an awesome tattoo on his right forearm, totally hot. Apparently Ketemine makes Mom2.0 wanna talk. When Nessa and I returned from lunch, Mom2.0 had told on us and was chatting him up in the recovery room. Oy!

At least it was entertaining to watch Nessa squirm. She didn't get to hit on Cute OR Dude (<-- mmm, color of scrubs he was wearing), as she has a recently acquired significant other.

Nessa and I had a particularly loud and embarassingly girly run in with a large spider the other night. Come to find out it was a Missouri Tarantula. The thing jumped! I did too, and Nessa and I both did our fair share of screaming (and cussing). I was armed with a large yellow rainboot and Nessa toted a bottle of bleach water and a bottle of Round Up. After much commotion, Nessa killed the offending arachnid with crow bar, catching it between the wall and a loosened baseboard. The whole episode was traumatic.

Our High School science teacher was in tears from laughing when I told her the story the next morning. She identified the intruder and assured us that he wasn't poisonous. I don't really care. It was still a fuckin' big, jumping spider. Blegh!

Mom2.0 told Cute OR Dude the whole story. He was amused, and obviously pleased to have the attention of two girls who thought he was hot. I'm not modest, I admitted the attraction readily when I heard that we had been outed. Nessa was not as keen to pony up. One of the nurses outed him later, telling us he was married. So sad, but that's not my game.

Ah well, mark it as a tick in the "I got attention from a hot boy" column. No long term benefits, but hey, it was fun.

From the Field

Oh, I locked myself in the garage yesterday. My roomie was nice enough to come let me out so I could go on my date. Isn't Nessa sweet?

From the Field

I got stood up last night.

Sucks.

I don't think he did it intentionally. I went early, and met up with FruggieChick and Sinister (my best friend and her husband). We went to the restaurant early, the plan being that they would stay until he showed. 7:30 came and went, all the way to 8:15 before we left.

I got home around 9:30 and sent an email. Nothing mean, just a simple "Where have you gone, Little Boy Blue?"

He says he got there at 7:20 and waited in his car until a little after 8:00 to leave. He said he left because he didn't see me go in. The jury is still out on that one.

I've been doing the online dating thing, well, for a long time. I can't even count anymore how many dates I've been on. And because of my habit of giving nicknames, I don't even remember most of their names. Part of it is my need to give every frickin' person a chance. Part of it is boredom. Oy, do I have some stories! Someday I will tell you them.

One for the road:

I met a guy who seemed cool. He was a little younger than me, like 23 to my 25. Into history and such, worked for one of the cable companies. Potential. I took FruggieChick as my wingman. We met him at a bar where a friend of his was doing karaoke. The evening declined quickly, much to FruggieChick's entertainment.

He made me sing karaoke. This is something I normally don't need much persuading to do, but on that night, I didn't wanna. He made me sing "Love Song" from Moulin Rouge. Asshole...

He also licked my face. Honest to blog (literally), he licked the side of my face. That's it! Game over, thanks for playing.

Hence was born the Licker. Not a clue anymore what his name was, not that it matters.

From the Field

Today was the first day back at work with faculty and staff. This was also the first time I've seen Schitzo since the last day of school in May.

(All of my ex-whatevers have nicknames. Some are more creative like Schitzo, some are a little crude like Dipshit, and some are not-so-creative like Soldier Bill. His name is Bill and he's a soldier. I fail.)

Schitzo and I have a complicated but relatively short past. Some representative complications:

- He and I are co-workers, teachers at the same school.
- He has lots of baggage. Seriously, I have a carry on; he has a matching set on wheels.
- I am 26 years old.
- He is 50 years old. (So sue me, he's hot!)
- The first time we kissed was in his kitchen at 2am while a student was asleep on the sofa in the living room. Oh, and his son was asleep in the bedroom.
- I really like kissing him.
- On the last day of school, I told him to "fuck off" in a gloriously dramatic manner. I got applause from the geometry teacher down the hall.
- And oh yeah, he's schitzo! ("I want you, you're hot - nevermind you're a little girl - I mean let's have casual sex - I need to find myself - please don't give up on me!")

How short? We discovered mutual attraction in the vicinity of Superbowl, we weren't speaking by mid-May. And it stayed that way until today. I was so worried about seeing him. I don't want him anymore, he's far too broken to even attempt. Not to mention, he has brokenness that predates my existence. A lot, actually.

But the attraction was so strong, back in the Spring. We wanted nothing more than each other's company, nothing more than conversation that meandered for hours. Cigarettes and bottles of wine and guitar music and deep conversation and laughing and laughing and laughing. And it’s all gone now. Too much hurt to even attempt friendship.

And with a heavy heart and a distressed mind, I went into that school this morning knowing I would have to face him. Knowing he had intentionally ignored me for three months. Knowing he would look at me the way he always has, with lust and superiority. So what did I do?

I gave him markers. First thing, before he could even say hello.

So why give him markers? Simple - I disarmed him. My act of giving was neither contrition nor surrender. It was my way of establishing how the relationship was going to be defined. We are professionals (myself more so then he), and I can play nice. But my congeniality ends there, with school related needs. He will neither take advantage nor reap pleasure from me.

I gave markers with my boundaries. And he understood.

Movie: My Blueberry Nights

I just finished a film called My Blueberry Nights. It was a romantic drama starring Norah Jones, Jude Law, Natalie Portman, and Rachel Weisz, among others.

Jeremy (Jude Law) says something about when he was little, his mother told him that if he ever got lost to stay in one place, that she would find him.

I wonder if this theory holds true. I feel as if I have been in limbo for years. I have been in one place, single and mostly content. Mostly. I would like more - more money, more time, more of someone that I don't yet have.

There is a quote by Marilyn Monroe - "I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Movie stats
IMDB rating: 6.9 out of 10 stars
GoP rating: 7 out of 10 stars, go rent it
Pairing: Jeremy and Elizabeth

Girl on Pause

Welcome to my experiment.

I would like to create a community for the hopeless romantics. Someplace to find comfort and friendship.

I live in a small town in rural Missouri. I am a high school art teacher.
I am an artist,
a loyal friend,
a movie addict,
a music worshipper,
and I am a hopeless, incurable romantic.

I am 26 years old and I am single. For no good reason. I'm sure there are a lot of people out there who feel the same way I do.

I am convinced that there is a reason that all those love songs and romantic movies exist. This blog is my experiment. If no one reads it but me, so be it. At least I will be putting myself, my heart and my life out there. In hopes, that somewhere, somehow, sometime, I will find my other.