how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled, and how the skin was softly shed

I finished watching Twilight yesterday. I think it could've been a compelling story about mortality and morality, of geography and time and youth, and, particuarly, of obsession. Instead, it is what it is. As a writer, a wannabe storyteller, I feel this impulse to fix the story, shade in depth to the characters. Then I realize that it's a successful franchise and its primary audience is pretty satisfied with what they have. At least the film is pretty to look at.

Weekends are times when I get to dwell on how much of a failure I am. I mean, I'm not, yes, I know. I'm great. (The fall formal went well by the way. More later.) But, I've set goals for myself, and my efficiency in following through leaves something to be desired. My room's a mess. When my room's a mess, my life seems a mess. Currently, my dorm is this post-modern landfill cluttered with cans of spray paint, table cloth, hair straighteners, half-opened packages, blankets, books, dirty laundry, old food and so on. I haven't made my bed in weeks. It sounds lived in, but it looks abandoned. What a fucking metaphor for the possible state of my life, huh? But, I'm not going to get that morbid. I just want to do well. And I want to get my shit together, badly. I want to grow up. And I want to be successful at it. At the least, I want someone in my life to notice the nuances there, to see what's in between, to look past the categories I can fit into, and know that I'm at least trying-- or, more accurately, want to try.

Fall Formal. I wasn't solely responsible for it by any means. I was just put in the position where I got to be at the center of it. I don't want to categorize myself right after the last paragraph, but I never thought I'd ever produce anything that became the biggest party on a college campus. I'm the quiet good girl. I hadn't even been to fall formal. (But, yes, Elizabeth, I did attend both Spring Formals for quite a while. God. :-) ) There were lasers (Madonna's lasers, in fact) and smoke machines. There were lanterns, candelabras, fairy dust and shimmery vine. The spray painted pumpkins were a hit and most were carried out in a mass exodus out of the tent. And there was drama, but let's not talk of that. I'm happy. I'm happy I got through it. I'm happy that others seemed happy. And I'm happy knowing that there are several people that have my back. That's probably the best part. My costume was supposed to be something taken out of the 40s/50s. It was one of those costumes that didn't have to be one. I kind of gave off a Sandra Dee vibe, which I felt was an apt parody of myself.

What else? My AmEx commercial and Harlem soundtrack are still in the works. Jeeze. I'm such a dork.

I dropped by Roger Ebert's site today and picked up some new films to put on Netflix.

One of the videos doesn't allow embedding. I'm too lazy to look for versions that do. So.

An Education



Wendy and Lucy



Changing Times



And: Medicine for Melancholy (I'm super excited for this one and An Education)