I'm That Girl

You know what? I'm cheesy. And I'm proud of it.

I'm the kind of person that buys puppydog calendars. I have a sparkly, blue hoodie. I build shrines. To Lance Bass. I line my walls with pictures of friends, family and pop culture memorabilia. It's a good way to live, I rather think.

If someone were to ask me my my definition of love, I'd point them straight to A Walk to Remember. Having seen this movie on many different occasions and in several different venues, it still leaves me with that "squeal" feeling that probably only girls get. I especially define my expectations of love and my capacity for it by the scene where Jamie and Landon are stargazing. Anyone who wants to 'get with' me should watch that, and they'll know what to expect. It could be truly beautiful, truly truly.

Siiiiiigh.

Reading, Writing, Women & War -- A few more for ya

The Eye of the Reporter, the Heart of the Novelist
"I learned to distinguish between those details that simply existed and those that revealed. Those telling details are the essence of fiction that feels real. The command of those details explains why Charles Dickens, a onetime reporter, has a byline for the ages." - Anna Quindlen

Long in Dark, Afghan Women Say to Read Is Finally to See
"'Blind' is the word many of these illiterate women use to describe themselves, and it speaks to the confusion and difficulties that they encounter as uneducated members of a society already harshly discriminatory against women.
"'Without knowledge, I am blind; I do not know white from black,' said Torpikay, 30. 'In town, I do not know where is the hospital, or the baths or the washroom, and I will take my dishes into the wrong place, because we just follow other women and don't know where we are going.' That last comment raised laughter from the entire class."

Single Girls: Sex but Still No Respect
"The media refrain has variations," Betsy Israel writes, "but in essence it remains the same: no matter what the single woman says, she can't really be happy. Her life is barren and disappointing."

Seeds of Protest Growing on College Campuses
"'I think there's a very strong antiwar feeling on campus,' said Shadi Hamid, a Georgetown sophomore. 'It wasn't so much an issue when we came back to school in August, but in the last two weeks there's been this new sense of urgency, and the issue has moved beyond the Muslim students.'
"Building an antiwar movement when students are not threatened by the draft is not easy. It may be particularly difficult in a generation that has little experience with political protest.
"'Campus activism at Penn is a bit frustrating because it seems like most people agree with us,' said Dan Fishback, a University of Pennsylvania senior. 'I'll talk about the various reasons we shouldn't go to war, and they'll be, like, "Yeah, I'm totally with you." But they're not, because they're not involved. They're so used to feeling helpless that it doesn't occur to them to be outraged.'"

And then there were two

Read this articles, if you like, from ... where else?

Congress Must Resist Rush to War

Prime Time Gets Real with a Plump Heroine

Just spreadin' the love...

Just call me Aurora

I seriously think I could sleep my entire life away. There is nothing more pleasant than sleeping. They say ignorance is bliss, well what greater state of ignorance is there than sleeping?

It's one thing to sleep because you have nothing else to do (of which I am as guilty as, if not more guilty than, the next), but I also choose sleep over waking up early to do something exciting on most occasions. Or rather I whine until the afore-mentioned fun activity is postponed to a more reasonable time, such as noon or 12:30.

However, I do not include getting to sleep in this bliss that I mention. Turning over repeatedly to find that perfect position so you can enter into earthly nirvana is quite a struggle for me nowadays... probably because I'm not truly tired because I've been getting too much sleep -- irony of ironies!

But seriously, I challenge each and every one of you to think of something better than sleep. And you can't say chocolate because sleeping doesn't make you fat. And you can't say sex because I won't know what you're talking about.

Brilliant, just brilliant

Just came back from the film Bend It Like Beckham, courtesy of UEA's Union Film Society. The film was very much like a My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except the heroine was Indian, and her love was soccer (football) rather than a WASP. Though she did end up hookin' it up with her Irish coach, who was played by the studly Jonathan Rhys Meyers. He is the newest addition to my lis -- he and Edward Norton. **Grin**

Anyhow, the film was super-cute, despite the frequent, awkward protrusions of the boom mic. But if even Spider-Man has boom mic mistakes, you really can't blaim this little indie venture. Hopefully it'll get cut out when the film goes to tape. I'll tell ya this, though. There was a very interesting intercut sequence where the heroine scores the winning goal in her championship simultaneously while her sister is being lifted up in the ecstasy of her wedding celebration. Lovely juxtaposition of modern and ancient ideals. **Sounding very pretensious, swirling a snifter of brandy in my left hand while typing with my right**

And, I've begun, it seems, to make a tradition of the weekly catch-up routine with my NY Times reading. Today I was reading about the new "miniplanet" that scientists have found. They're calling it Quaoar, after an Indian god of something or other. Also, I read an article about this woman's trips to Costco and various other bulk warehouses to pick up food for a dinner party. The best particle came when she described her trip to Stewart Leonard's, recounting the variety of products made on-premises... such as "balloon-like balls of mozzarella." -- YES!

And there's more: "Entertainment, of the amuse-bouche variety, is a key element. I was barely in the store when a woman offered me cheddar cheese wrapped around a slice of apple. A few yards later, someone handed me a cup of warm apple crumble. Before I left, I could have had focaccia, cheese spread on crackers and coffee cake. In between, there are animated displays of a Chiquita banana and the "Holstein Family Singers," a band of robot cows that sing atop the dairy section."

So, there it is, folks. Wholesale stores may give you way more of an anything than you could ever possibly need, but they're practically amusement parks. How can you stay away?

So, my recommendations for today are as follows: Bend It Like Beckham (if it ever comes to America), Wholesale Warehouses, the New York Times (as always), Jon Rhys Meyers, the Brown Derbies (particularly their rendition of "Anna Begins" -- siiiiigh), Peter Gabriel, Ed Norton (sans goatee) and the entire cast and crew of Say Anything but definitely not in that particular flick.

Let's Sing It!

Some days are just musicals days when you want to listen and be touched by music, not really caring to deal with other people, but rather with the voices of the musicians that you can choose via your local MP3 or CD player.

Well, today I choose Peter Gabriel and the Brown Derbies.

I think "In Your Eyes" is one of the best songs ever. Up there with "Galileo" and "Tiny Dancer", it brings together the generations. No one can deny that it's amazing. (And if they try, they can take it up in a round of fisticuffs or bitch-slapping with me.) A lot of people like to associate it with that movie from the '80s. The Cameron Crowe one. Say Anything -- that's it! But I think that's crap. Aside from John Cusack and Lili Taylor (and of course, Cameron Crowe who is amazing), that movie is really just not good. It makes Frasier's dad a corrupt man (even though it is before he did Frasier), and that damn Ione Skye is in it. She's way up there on the overrated list. At any rate, I lose myself...

John Cusack? Yes! (Watch Being John Malkovich.)
Lili Taylor? Yes! (Watch Six Feet Under.)
Frasier's dad? Yes! (Watch The Broken Hearts Club: A Romantic Comedy.)
Cameron Crowe? A fervent YES! (Watch Almost Famous.)
Say Anything? No! (Leave it on the shelf at Blockbuster.)

Another song that I have of late discovered is Bryan Adams and Sarah McLachlan's "Don't Let Go." Those two canucks did their country proud.

So, enjoy the following lyric by the gifted Gabriel (and while doing so completely block from your mind "Sledgehammer" and all those cartoon/claymation videos **shiver**).

********************************************
Love I get so lost, sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away I drive off in my car
But whichever way I choose I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your eyes

Love, I don't like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
The heat I see in your eyes

Commercial Patriotism Strikes Again

Having just watched Spider-Man for the 2nd time, a few details struck me.

a.) James Franco is also on my list. **swoon**

b.) Wasn't this a professional production? I saw the boom mic in the shot at least 8 times.

c.) I wonder if anyone has written an essay/article on the decidedly patriotic, America-post-9/11 subtext of the movie. Definitely of note. The whole "We're New Yorkers -- you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us!" moment. The song "Hero" and its NYPD/NYFD implications. I wonder how much was added in/taken out during the long time between filming and the release of the film. Certainly some shots of the WTC (as in many films) were excised, and there is no way that the last shot of Spider-Man landing on a flagpole, America's pride and joy billowing in the background, was there before the tragedy struck -- way too convenient. Perhaps I will be motivated and write something about it... Perhaps not...

Roger Ebert didn't notice the Ameri-propaganda, but he did have quite an amusing take on the overly dramatic last scene: "I have one question about the Peter Parker character: Does the movie go too far with his extreme social paralysis? Peter tells Mary Jane he just wants to be friends. 'Only a friend?' she repeats. 'That's all I have to give,' he says. How so? Impotent? Spidey-sense has skewed his sexual instincts? Afraid his hands will get stuck?" I prefer to think that Spidey's an unaware homo, but whatevs.

*****************************

On an almost completely unrelated note, anyone who wants to live in New York in their lifetime should never read Candace Bushnell novels (Sex & the City, 4 Blondes). They are so depressing. I already want to become a nun from my no-hitter in England; these books are gonna drive me over the edge. (I'll stop being such a whiner soon, I promise... or at least I'll stop being "verbal" about it.)

A brief one, at the request of the masses

So, I am addicted to shopping. It is official. Not the common clothes-shopping addiction, though. I am addicted to grocery shopping. I wittle away at my bank account by visiting the UFO (Union Food Outlet) nearly 3 times a week. McVitie's Digestive Biscuits (Cookies), in particular, are my poison of choice. Of course, there's always room in my cart or my arms for some pretzels, an extra pint of juice or on the rare occasion, a piece of fruit. But let me tell you, I'm gonna have issues with the grocery bill -- of all things -- when I "grow up" because it's just so easy to go buy something here, another thing there, and let your finances slowly drain to nothing because you just had to have that third variety of muesli cereal.

Otherwise, I watched Top Hat for my Hollywood Musicals class yesterday. Fred Astaire is adorable. He and Donald O'Connor (Cosmo from Singin' in the Rain) are for sure my teen idols of choice for the 1940s and '50s, respectively. So, that being said, let's take an inventory of the kind of men that I like: Alan Cumming (first and foremost), Steve Buscemi, Rhys Ifans, John C. Reilly, Donald O'Connor and Fred Astaire (also Adam Garcia from Coyote Ugly, but he's most certainly an anomaly). And I still can't get a man? I like freaks, here, throw me a bone! I've been making this arsenal of men that I'm interested in as of late because a certain fella was asking me last Friday night a series of men and asking if I was into them. He went high and low, going through Tom Cruise, Robbie Williams, Liam Gallagher, Leonardo Dicaprio, all the old standbys, and not a man in the group was to my liking. Sure, I had phases -- me and the rest of the world -- when I liked these guys for one reason or another, but today they can go on their merry ways. (The one exception was Jude Law because, really, how can you not adore him? But he came up late in the conversation after I'd shot down all the other contenders.)

My point? My tastes have evolved, perhaps because I've realized that I can't ever have any of these lookers, but I'm still batting a consistent .000. What gives?

A final point to this not-so-brief (whoops) blog: I'm developing an alter-ego named Lola. I will use her in the "real world" either to seem exotic or to fend off dirty old men (as was the case on Saturday). So here's the question: What should Lola be like? If she's a proper alter-ego, not me. Discuss amongst yourselves...

What's with today today?

So, I just finished watching Christina Aguilera's latest trick, "Dirrty". (Note the 2 r's, but do not confuse with Nelly's "Hot in Herre", which I am currently listening to and embracing the irony of the forthcoming remarks I am going to make.) Okay, focus!

So, like I said, I just watched "Dirrty" because it was touted essentially as the porn version of Britney's "I'm a Slave 4 U", and it delivered! Now I'm thinking, What the hell? What's with music and music videos today? What have we come to? Did "Thriller", "Learning to Fly" and various other stylized, "vanguard" videos teach today's pop acts nothing? People like Justin Timberlake and Britney (though not Christina to my knowledge) claim respect, reverence and inspiration in innovative videos and innovative acts and then they put out these schlock videos, wearing a felt hat and a "Beat It" jacket and saying this "new sound" is truly them, but edgier. (In a sidebar, edgy took the throne as the most trite word in the music industry somewhere in the past five to ten years.)

One of my most recently cultivated complaints is that music today is crap. It's all a send-up to some ideal that we don't believe in anymore because we're too busy proclaiming, sampling and downloading the talent of generations past rather than coming up with our talent. Or, if we do happen to develop something "new", it's synthetic and forced, kind of like techno or this quickly-becoming-tiresome pop-rap-r&b fusion music. There's nothing new. In the past five years, we've taken an entire culture, pretending to discover their talents because we've run out of our own. We called that the Latin Invasion.

When the most complimentary thing we can say about the most powerful not-yet-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman performer in the music industry (along with several of her flesh-baring, no-balls-high-singing cronies) is that at least (s)he's a good dancer, we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel.

But back to the business at hand, that dirrty whore and her dirrty video. First off, it's the most blatant rip-off of everything popular or trying to be today that I even got the references, and that takes a lot. Did she specifically hire a choreographer and tell him to "copy every video that airs on MTV today!" -- the video reeks of Shakira, Willa Ford, *NSync's "Pop", DMX and "I'm a Slave 4 U," among others. Granted, Christina can't dance as well as Britney (natch), but she could at least hire someone who will teach her a new move. Thematically -- if I can even use that word -- it was this heinous mix between an 8MM-esque snuff film, Britney's "Overprotected" (replete with water/mud gyrations), Gia and Raging Bull with li'l Christina herself portraying Bobby D. (Feel free to substitute LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out" into that last slot if it pisses you off more.) Oh, and it gets better. Christina, who incidentally won the Best New Artist Grammy not many years ago, is consistently sitting spread-legged with these odd chaps that would reveal something decidedly dirrty if not for those cursed red knickers strategically placed over her Brazilian bikini wax. The word fetish has never been more appropriate. And adding insult to injury, raccoon-eyes' recent penchant for piercings, 18 visits to the tanning salon a day and oddly colored dreadlocks makes her look like something that came out of a glamour POW camp. (Did I miss when she formally declared that she's not Hispanic anymore but black now? I must have because she announces her Afro-pride with a rough-and-tumble gangsta "What" at the end.)

So, with that rant through, I think that everyone should see the video. Just because. Treat yourself to a moment to feel proud of yourself that 30 years from now you won't be sitting in a brothel in Tijuana with this video casting its tasteless shadow on your youth.

This is brilliant! The NY Times has delivered me yet another winner. While reading an article on the new Sex & the City-esque columns popping up in even the podunk-est of college newspapers, I stumbled upon this little lady, the Carrie Bradshaw of Yale. (It is of note that even Middlebury now has a "Sex & the College" column. We're late on the trend, but we have arrived... sort of!)

This girl is me, except funnier. But she gets my struggles, man. She gets me.

*******************************************************

Phase TWO: get myself a man
A new year brings new possibilities for committed booty
By Natalie Krinsky

The freshness of a new year is unparalleled -- it brings a new perspective, uplifting hope, and a renewed cycle of the seasons.

More importantly, it brings a brand new me.

The writing in my notebook begins clean and neat, no coffee stains. I dot my I's. I write due dates down weeks in advance. I color code my reading with bright highlighters. Yellow -- important. Blue -- relevant. Pink -- facts that will make me look intelligent in stimulating conversations about world issues. I go to the gym. I quit smoking. I stop biting my nails. I think of giving to charity.

I begin (for the umpteenth time) my pursuit for a wholesome, giving and fulfilling relationship. This year, I tell myself, determined, heaving on the treadmill, will be my year to shine. I will meet someone special. I will be actively pursued -- wined, dined, flowers, chocolates and diamonds galore. (Note: wined and dined is subject to interpretation, I will settle for 40s and a Happy Meal) Men will want me. Women will envy me. Meatheads will stop spilling beer on me. I will become virtuous and talented, graceful and witty. I will be able to toss my hair in a way that no head of hair has ever been tossed.

Every year of course, my self-improvement plan fades. Come the next ball dropping, I can still barely do a sit-up, and my nails remain presentable at best. Smoking -- let's not discuss it. I am two months behind on world issues, while my check to the United Way has bounced. And, well, as the countdown begins, and I take a quick glance around the room to see what lucky man will kiss me at midnight, I realize that I've already kissed all these guys many a time in high school, and they all do funny things with their tongues.

But this year -- 2002 -- will be different. VASTLY different. Helllloooo -- this is the year of the couple -- there are two twos in EVERY date for Chrissakes! AND I'm a sophomore -- that's my SECOND year in college, I am TWO inches taller than five foot TWO, and I have TWO eyes and TWO ears. My room number is TWO-thirty-TWO. I will be turning TWENTY. "Popstars TWO" is on the WB. "The Real World" has TWO gay people. Does no one see the pattern here? Basically, I'm destined for couplehood. It's all in the numbers.

Of course, being a part of a couple is by no means easy. It takes hard work, dedication, and above all, a plan of action. Direction is essential. Finding a boyfriend is like getting a job. Your resume has to be impressive while your cover letter should be informative and communicative. Lie, lie, lie. Make sure to leave some questions unanswered, though -- there needs to be something to talk about during the interview.

I have devised a plan unlike any other in my pursuit for Mr. Right (or Mr. Right Now). It is called, (drumroll, please) Operation GLWC2 -- Get Laid with COMMITMENT and CONVERSATION. "GL-ing" is by no means difficult. It is proven to be, in fact, quite easy. Take Woody Allen for example. It is the WC2 part that presents the major hurdle.

But fear not, because I am a skilled hurdle jumper -- famous in many elite hurdle-jumping circles -- and I am here to impart my expertise upon one and all.

GLWC2 STEP ONE

I decided that if I am going to face the vast gaping black hole of dating, I need to put the best possible me out there on the market. Polished, well presented and put together. This involves coming through on at least a few of my new year's resolutions. I need to be all that I can be, without resorting to the armed forces. This means above all, hard-bodied, well-read with an updated haircut. First things first, I took care of the haircut over break. My curls now have a flattering come-hither face-framing bounce. Phew.

Next, I made sure to compile a thorough reading list (remember, organization is key). Among my top choices "Fire on Ice -- The Biography of Eric Lindros," Henry Kissinger's "Diplomacy," and, of course, "How to Drive Your Man Wild In Bed," by everyone's favorite Brit, Graham Masterton.

As for the hard-bodied part, no quarters are bouncing off my abs quite yet, but, maybe one day -- sigh. I've heard that at BJ's you can buy one of those Electronic Ab Zappers for $35 that they advertise on BET. Stay back -- I'm first in line.

GLWC2 STEP TWO

As many of us know, the cardinal rule of investing is diversify your portfolio. This applies to Operation GLWC2 as well. Do not limit yourself to stocks, or bonds, or mutual funds alone, instead, try a little bit of everything and making a profit will be more likely. In order to do this, I have decided to join a variety of organizations in order to meet a wide variety of men. As you know, I write for the paper. This allows me to meet the slightly shy, intellectual, well-read sort.

Next, I am a member of the Yale Entrepreneurial Society -- a place where I'm sure to encounter testosterone-charged, hard-nosed, but inwardly sensitive future investment bankers (i.e. a long term investment with high payoffs in the end). A community service organization allows you to pick up the giver. This is the guy that will give give give. We're talking the listener, we're talking -- you, yes you ladies, WILL have an orgasm (gasp!). Try FOOT for a romp in the woods with a scruffy, socially aware, granola-eating stud -- the possibilities are endless. Just stay away from a cappella -- high-end dividends with diminishing returns.

GLWC2 STEP THREE

If all goes according to plan, Operation GLWC2 will lead me to a loving caring boyfriend, but along the way, I have pledged to leave no man behind. I am an equal opportunity employer, and the man who may not seem like the number one choice right away, may prove to be so eventually. Thus, I have pledged to say YES. YES YES YES to the man who says, "Hey -- take a chance on me!" I will, I will take a chance, I proudly say. Because, although I have found that getting a boyfriend may take devotion, enthusiasm and an impenetrable strategy, keeping one is easy. Just swallow.

Natalie Krinsky has had over 104,000 hits on her last column online. When was the last time that many people hit on you?

Too much junk in the trunk

Let's talk about asses, shall we? I propose that women's pants should not have pockets in the back. Some don't support this idea on the grounds that it would make people with large posteriors appear even larger, but ponder this: If everyone does it, the shock effect is largely negated. In a similar sense, if we all were nudists, no one would care or note the difference, taking us back to a kind of dilluted Garden of Eden.

So, in summary, no pockets = the Garden of Eden.

Thank you.

Boys: sometimes a girl just needs one

What a nice skill it would be to act level-headed around boys. Today Mr. Jon Nice (Em's boyfriend) and I had a lovely day together. Jon, a philosophy major, made the remark that he doesn't want a job from anyone that will give him one, invoking the age-old Groucho Marx comment, "I don't want to be a part of any club that will have me as a member," to which I responded, "That's kind of how I feel with boys." Not many hours later we found ourselves tromping to the house of a boy that clearly does not want me. Then I found out that he lives on the very same street as a the man that I put to sleep on Friday night. What is this? Oh yeah. My life.

I have decided that John C. Reilly and Rhys Ifans (whom many of you may know as "Spike" from Notting Hill) are my 2 new favorite actors. I watched Once Upon a Time in the Midlands with Rhys Ifans last night. While the movie itself was altogether not what I expected it to be, I realized that I just really love it when the poor schlub without many redeeming qualities wins out in the end. It gives me hope. Maybe that's why I go for Steve Buscemi, too.

Off to read Mankind, possibly one of the most pointless plays ever -- but I've got 9 more weeks of Key Texts in Drama to prove me wrong on that score.