My Heart Will Go On

It is Sunday night and nobody is around so I have decided to share my most unpopular and controversial opinion. The highest hill upon which I will die. The fight I will take to the death.

Jack could NOT fit on the door with Rose.

So, okay, yes, TECHNICALLY Jack could have fit in the door. I have seen your diagrams and drawing and re-enactments, yes. But we all watched the movie. He tried to get on the door and it started to tip. Had he continued to try, the door would have tipped Rose into the water with Jack. Should they both have died when one could have lived??

Add to this the fact that it was late and cold and they were in shock. They had spent the night running for their lives only to be thrust into freezing waters. Their manual and intellectual capacities were most definitely not at full strength. The thought and effort it would have taken for an already nearly frozen Jack to keep the door upright while climbing on top and in the process not throwing Rose to the icy depths was by this point extinct. The only option was for Jack to sacrifice himself in the name of love. He died so Rose could live.

So sure, while technically Jack could have fit on the door, in the end, it was just too hard. As I am someone who easily gives up in the face of adversity, I cannot fault him for this. I cannot fault Rose for not thinking of how to make it work because her brain was frozen both from the cold and the fact that she was running away with a pauper. I will no longer stand idly by and allow you to sully Rose’s good name with your diagrams and logic.



On a Sunday Afternoon

Technically it’s not afternoon yet, but I am a writer so I am familiar with lying. Just kidding. I’m familiar with lying because I’m a liar.

Writing is hard. I am sure nobody has ever said that before. Because I am a writer I try to avoid being cliche (sorry I can’t figure out where to find accent marks) and/or stealing other people’s words or ideas.

Before I can move forward in this current book, which is about drugs and emotional numbing, which a thing I am very NOT familiar with (the emotional numbing, I mean. Not familiar. But also drugs. I am not familiar with drugs. Except for that one period in time when I used to save Percocet for a rainy day and by rainy day I mean cramps), I have to decide if the sister lives or dies and I realized that in my last book there is a dead sister and why is this a theme for me?

I am pretty sure it has to do with the fact that I am 99% convinced that I am a twin and my mother refuses to tell me the truth about it. I’ve asked her multiple times. But here’s the thing – other than the fact I’m not totally convinced she’s not out there somewhere – I have a friend who is a twin and she was born a year before me and her mom didn’t know. She was having her baby and then they were like, “surprise, there’s another one!” So maybe my mother didn’t give birth to two babies, but maybe at some point there WERE two babies and I ate the other one in the womb. This would absolutely set the precedent by which I have lived the rest of my life out of the womb. Emotional eating. Maybe there was some trauma and I was like, “I know, I will just eat my twin.”

This may also by why I’m a little obsessed with cannibalism? Also a thing I am not entirely convinced didn’t happen in my family, as my grandmother was in the Ukraine during the famine and I read an article in the New York Times about a family who sent their daughter off to dinner at another home where they were having “something special” and the “something special” ended up being the daughter. They found her clothes in the woods near the village and my grandmother lived in a village near the woods. I’ve talked about this before, but it’s just because I think about it so much. It also entirely possible that they didn’t actually eat the daughter but just brutally murdered her.

I think I’m gonna let the sister live.

I’m sitting in the kitchen at my new job eating a lunch I made all by myself. The lunch involves a pita and an apple and an avocado. I know, right? I could be a chef (in a raw food restaurant). Any time I spend more than five minutes in the kitchen, I think of my dad, who actually was a chef. He was such a chef that he had a huge scar on his foot where he spilled boiling oil. I mostly remember it because it was the only part of him that didn’t tan. Just this huge patch of skin that never changed. He said he used to cook barefoot, which seems unsanitary. But I don’t know if he meant that in the restaurants or just like at home in general because I am barefoot 99% of the time I am in the kitchen and also just at home. I hate shoes  so much. Who decided that we needed shoes? I mean, I like not getting diseases from stepping on stuff outside but I assume I’d eventually grow immune.

Anyway, my dad never actually cooked at home, which I guess makes sense. Why do at home what you do all day? Except he didn’t always have a job so he didn’t do it all day. What a waste of culinary school. The only thing he taught me about cooking was how to chop vegetables so I didn’t chop off my fingers. And I am pleased to announce that to this day I have not chopped off any fingers. Also when I was little he would impress me by making roses out of tomatoes and a basket out of a watermelon. So maybe culinary school wasn’t a COMPLETE waste. He also catered his own wedding. But the only thing I remember is the watermelon basket. I’m pretty sure there was other food but who even cares, you know.

I was six when he and my mom married. I was a flower girl. The morning of the wedding I said I didn’t want to do it. They thought they were threatening me when they said they’d get my cousin to do it instead, but I called their bluff by telling them that would be fine. (They made me do it, in the end.) That may have been the very moment I decided that if I ever got married I would elope.

Always This Ridiculous Obsession with Love

I am back! Back again! “Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years, I’m rocking my peers….”
Hi. Hello. Been a while. Here is a blog post about Moulin Rouge, one of my top five favorite movies.
Fun fact – I recently had a big breakthrough in therapy (you may congratulate me if you wish, I will accept), and I went back through old journals to find evidence of this thing I broke through on and I found an entry where I talked about my first time watching Moulin Rouge and I said, “I never had any desire to watch this movie, but I ended up loving it!” This was in college. I apparently watched it at my friend Ian’s house. I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF ANY OF THIS. This is why you keep journals kids. Anyway, I never did find the thing I was looking for in those journals, but the thing I was looking for would have been way before college journals and to be honest, college me was a DRAG and I got bored. 
ANYWAY. so this summer, August, two months-ish from now, Rachael and I will be traveling to Boston to see Moulin Rouge the STAGE MUSICAL. Moulin Rouge in REAL LIFE. With BEAUTIFUL people in the REAL, LIVE roles! I mean, they are all probably very beautiful, but I am only focused on the one very beautiful person who will bring the beautiful Christian to life, and I am speaking of Aaron Tveit, star of stage and screen, *my* Danny Zuko, and the future Mr. Orsini. None of this is the point of this blog post!
I have been carpooling to work with a co-worker and yesterday in the car Elton John’s “Your Song” came on and I very excitedly told her about this trip to Boston to see Moulin Rouge and she said, “I’VE NEVER SEEN THAT MOVIE.” (emphasis mine because I mean WHAT.) She said she gets very stressed out during movies and can’t watch most of them. She asked if someone died in the movie and I said yes. She said, “ a car wreck or something?” She knows NOTHING about this movie! “No!” I said, in a very condescending manner. “Like, from COUGHING. She has CONSUMPTION.” 
Fortunately, I found a new job and only have seven more days of carpooling with this MONSTER. 
My top five favorite movies are:
1. Amelie
2. Moulin Rouge
3. The Wizard of Oz
As it turns out, I only have three top favorite movies. That is something I learned just this minute while making this list. I mean, I know there are other *favorites* but they change constantly. These three are forever. And you know it’s serious because I have some pretty intense committment issues and can’t even commit to a favorite color. Is it blue? Sometimes! Green? Also sometimes! It all depends on the shade! But sometimes I’m more green than blue and vice versa and SOMETIMES, I don’t like either of them! I don’t know myself AT ALL, which is something I’ve been working on. It’s been quite the journey, to be honest. I am both not nearly as interesting as I thought I was but also way more interesting than I thought I was. I AM VERY COMPLICATED. 
I hope the future Mr. Orsini likes puzzles because lol I am one. 
I’m going through some stuff. 
Okay, and now I will go back to writing my Moulin Rouge-inspired novel about drugs and conjoined twins! Probably. Writing is VERY hard. Just fyi.

I Don’t Wanna Wait (for my life to be over…(sing it with me))

I am not a patient person. I don’t like waiting for things, working for things, learning things. Even before the era of instant gratification I demanded instant gratification.

When I was learning to tie my shoes I threw a fit, stormed out of the room, and declared I’d wear velcro for the rest of my life. (I eventually learned to tie my shoes.)

When I was learning to ride a bike, I gave up and said I’d just not ride a bike. Who needed a bike. (I eventually learned to ride a bike.)

When I was learning to drive, I made a stupid mistake. Nobody was hurt, and maybe one person beeped at me. It was small. Stupid. When I pulled into the driveway I burst into tears and said I didn’t need to drive if I had friends who could drive. (Okay, so it took me six years to finally get my license, but that is for a totally different reason.)

On top of this impatience is a need to get things right. I want it to happen now, and I want it to be perfect. I had trouble with math so I gave up on math and subsequently had even more trouble with math. I had trouble with science so I gave up on science and subsequently had even more trouble with science. Because that’s how things work. You have to keep trying. But I’d rather fail spectacularly than pass only…mediocrely. (Is that a word? I’m too impatient to read all the links debating it.)

When I finally did take my driver’s test, I hit the curb during the parallel parking, so I hit the curb three more times just to fail the test. Fail spectacularly.

I am currently waiting on multiple things and I can’t really talk about any of them. They are taking forever. While I’m waiting I am going over all the ways I could have made a mistake and it takes everything I have not to go back to all the people holding the things I’m waiting on and say, “wait! wait. Let me try again. I’ll get it right.” Because if they don’t respond positively immediately, I obviously did something wrong and if I take it back then the waiting is in my control. By which I mean, I won’t be waiting at all. See, if you try nothing you are never waiting and this is the motto by which I live my life. Except for right now. When I’m waiting on literally everything.

Anyway, the point of this, is that waiting is the worst and I want it now and basically I am a hero.

Thank you.