My Shame is Deep and Crippling
There are a few things I need to get off my chest before I go off to die in Tajikistan. The following items are sources of deep shame that bring into question serious questions of character and upbringing, but I must come clean.
ITEM 1:
On my flight back from Ukraine a few months ago, I was on one of those great planes that have the TV screens in the back of each seat so you can choose from a selection of movies to watch whenever you feel like it. After Superman 2, I saw The Notebook, that utterly saccharine flick about true love and soul mates set in the 40s or so (but narrated in the present time by aged protagonists a la Fried Green Tomatos and a billion other tired films). So overwrought, so cheesy, so predictable, so gimmicky. Emotionally manipulative, completely unbelievable characters who only exist to make us feel less charming and lovable. I told Kriston that how I hated it. I convinced myself that because of the aforementioned examples of despicable filmmaking, I did indeed hate it. I even sneered at the man in the seat next to me—a beefy hip-hop star in dark shades and distracting bling who I'd never heard of ("I'm big in Amsterdam. I usually fly first class." and later... "I actually hate hip hop.")—because he said "Man, did you see that Notebook? Aw man that was some sad shit. Man, that was good." "Did you cryyyyyyy?" I teased. Fuck. He was more honest than me. I watched that damn movie twice that flight. Twice in a row. Then I watched the trailers. I just saw a trailer on TV and felt a heart string get plucked. It's horribly embarassing. I am a Kieslowsky aficionado!!!!!
Corrollary to ITEM 1: Far and Away remains, by far and away, the most influential movie on my life to date and I shall defend it to my grave.
ITEM 2:
With America's Next Top Model on hiatus, What not to Wear is one of the top shows on television and nearly makes me cry most times. God, after Nick Arrojo does his magic with their hair and they look into the mirror and their faces slowly crumble and all the years of toil and underappreciation and quiet resignation come to the fore and they whisper with gravelly desperation, "I forgot what it was like...to feel...pretty." Then they vow to get their GEDs or stop shaking their babies or whatever. Gah! God help me, I start to believe that life's problems can all be solved with a smart wardrobe and classically understated make-up application! What is wrong with me, really? Deep down, what is wrong?
ITEM 3:
My favorite snack foods of all time: not hummous and carrots. Not fresh fruit. Not even chips. My favorite snack foods of all time are Pemmican brand beef jerky (teriyaki flavor) and David's Sunflower Seeds, in shells, large resealable bag, salted. Clearly, I am a fat truck driver reincarnated in young urbanite girl's body. I have had CVS employees mock my snack purchases.
I think that more or less exhausts the list for now. And I understand if you need to, you know, take some time before we talk again. I'll be right here.
ITEM 1:
On my flight back from Ukraine a few months ago, I was on one of those great planes that have the TV screens in the back of each seat so you can choose from a selection of movies to watch whenever you feel like it. After Superman 2, I saw The Notebook, that utterly saccharine flick about true love and soul mates set in the 40s or so (but narrated in the present time by aged protagonists a la Fried Green Tomatos and a billion other tired films). So overwrought, so cheesy, so predictable, so gimmicky. Emotionally manipulative, completely unbelievable characters who only exist to make us feel less charming and lovable. I told Kriston that how I hated it. I convinced myself that because of the aforementioned examples of despicable filmmaking, I did indeed hate it. I even sneered at the man in the seat next to me—a beefy hip-hop star in dark shades and distracting bling who I'd never heard of ("I'm big in Amsterdam. I usually fly first class." and later... "I actually hate hip hop.")—because he said "Man, did you see that Notebook? Aw man that was some sad shit. Man, that was good." "Did you cryyyyyyy?" I teased. Fuck. He was more honest than me. I watched that damn movie twice that flight. Twice in a row. Then I watched the trailers. I just saw a trailer on TV and felt a heart string get plucked. It's horribly embarassing. I am a Kieslowsky aficionado!!!!!
Corrollary to ITEM 1: Far and Away remains, by far and away, the most influential movie on my life to date and I shall defend it to my grave.
ITEM 2:
With America's Next Top Model on hiatus, What not to Wear is one of the top shows on television and nearly makes me cry most times. God, after Nick Arrojo does his magic with their hair and they look into the mirror and their faces slowly crumble and all the years of toil and underappreciation and quiet resignation come to the fore and they whisper with gravelly desperation, "I forgot what it was like...to feel...pretty." Then they vow to get their GEDs or stop shaking their babies or whatever. Gah! God help me, I start to believe that life's problems can all be solved with a smart wardrobe and classically understated make-up application! What is wrong with me, really? Deep down, what is wrong?
ITEM 3:
My favorite snack foods of all time: not hummous and carrots. Not fresh fruit. Not even chips. My favorite snack foods of all time are Pemmican brand beef jerky (teriyaki flavor) and David's Sunflower Seeds, in shells, large resealable bag, salted. Clearly, I am a fat truck driver reincarnated in young urbanite girl's body. I have had CVS employees mock my snack purchases.
I think that more or less exhausts the list for now. And I understand if you need to, you know, take some time before we talk again. I'll be right here.
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