Holiday Cheering

It's a week till Christmas. And every bit of holiday-thought has been swirling in my head.
This would have been fine if I werent thinking about the boatload of reading I have to do before Christmas spirit finally seeps into the ticker.

Sigh. Yes, Virginia there will be Christmas.

Amidst all of this, I'm struggling to feel the tide of the sentimental and the drama the season brings.

Who am I kidding? Hee.

Fragment Monster Still

If there's a quick fix to all these alzheimer-ish quirks today, a minor lobotomy is on my shortlist.

Reading hasn't been helping either. Perhaps my brain has turned to mush? I cant seem to transmit any cohesive thought. Somehow, it deadens before any audible word is made. Oh well. Perhaps muteness suits my style?

Fragment Monster

Today is blender-shaker-word day. Or otherwise put, becoming-less-lucid.

What is it with these fits of nuttiness? It's a personality glitch which I spy to be genetic . Nut-- that is ME. No amount of psycho-babble can cure this. I cannot be talked out of this, er, bad habit, of loosely stumbling into every worst possible moment a klutz, like myself, can get into. I have no mold for finesse. That is the incurrable truth. Oh well.

I'm all fragment-monster today. I havent been talking(as in with audible words) too eloquently. It's all-- Uh-huh, Yeah-um, Ahhh, Errr. Whistles and Clicks. I have all my audiences baffled. Great way to create mystery, ey? I tell you there is nothing more sad than being an idiot these days. Everyone around me seem to be sparring off adages and tales of eloquence. They're all freaking achievers! Oh Well.

At least mediocrity hasnt fallen out of fashion, yet. Oh yeah, I still have that stamped on my forehead.

Breathing And Sulking Still

Hello universe!

I cant say I'm fully recovered. Post hibernation and treatment, I seem to be fine. With the way I openly became insanely vague-neurotic b*tch after that muppet broke my insecure little heart, I can now officially say that from here on, it is blatant that I shall be the world's oldest living (breathing and sulking) twenty five year old spinster. Oh well, what's new?

Anyways, I have come to a resolve. From now on, I shall, to fill in the void, so to speak, live vicariously through Brangelina and the chosen ones. Mild obsession(I hope, for my sake) is like the designer drug for that post-epic trauma. It gives you excessive highs--especially when you see TOUCHING in the latest candid/authorized/ staged/ unstaged razzie pics and lows-- wait, what lows? I love this couple, there never seems to be a let-down. It's always happy-happy-joy-joy. OmyGus, I love Hollywood and all its smut.

All this coming from a girl who has a passion for all things Karen-O-ish and has a special soft spot for Kim and Gerald. I amaze myself. It's all fluff from here on out. The gods help me. And just for the record, I've never admitted to class or lack thereof either. So that brings me to that proverbial question? What am I? Hmmm...What, indeed...

I hope I'll be able to at least make intelligent verbal nausea for the days to come. Hmmm... or I could just become like a fragment monster like Ms Jolie herself(although I find it endearing, it makes her soooo human.. Gus, I love her), but I dont think I could carry that too well. I might as well channel inner Carrie and stave off future plans of becoming diety-level. That always seem to be comforting at most.

Rabid Thoughts

There is nothing more terrible than having know that the idea --- that existential truth about yourself --- you have harbored your entire life is all but one big lie.

You are not the person you have always imaginged yourself to be.

Forget strong-willed and independent. You never came close to Haydee-Yorac proportions. Discerning and collected? You wish. You though you had it in you --- that heroine-potential, capable of turning an entire Greek Fleet into granite with one deathly stare. Yet you are not medusa, lest Carrie befor she torched the gym. You surmise, nothing but grand delusions of grandeur.

How could you have been this so gullible? Hook, line and sinker, you fell for it. 'Guess you were the punchline. Ha. Ha.Ha.

Birthday Bashing

I.am.now.twentyfive.

I am officially senile.

I am now a fledlging for the quarter-life crisis. Ready to be sworn in.

So here goes...counting down to that sweet sweet rockstar future.

Weekend with Shyamalan and his Lady Friend

After having my Sundays subjected to hollywood crap for movies for most of the year, N. Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is like my answered prayer from boredom and mediocrity.

Despite all the hogwash critics are throwing, Lady in the Water is a gem. How a movie appeals to the audience is relative anyway. You might hate it or like it. However, most of the people I know who have seen it, whose thoughts are the former, seemed they really "didn't get it".

However, I understand their "what-the-heck" impressions on the film. I blame that on the viewing public and Hollywood's sin of boxing movies into naught categories. What really is a scary movie really? Should it always be complete with gore and nudity and sans plot and sense?

Lady in the Water is far more original than what "mainstream" media throws in nowadays. The bedtime/fairy tale story was brilliantly executed. The humor thrown into the story with the quirky dialogues and odd-ball characters are dead giveaways that the film isnt meant to be seen as 'just a scary movie'. Shyamalan is absolutely brilliant at being cryptic, yet accessible at the same time.

The film isnt just a thinking-movie as some might disagree. What I love about Shyamalan's work is not how creepy and clever his stories are but how it makes you feel after going out through those theater doors. It throws fundamental questions at you--- about the human spirit, defeat and self-awakening, about purpose-- without sounding or appearing preachy, and without you noticing. It makes you feel.

This has to be the Shyamalan's most personal film yet, opting for a fullfledged main character rather than the usual cameo. The whole thing with Story "awakening" his character seemed to be too telling for truth. It seemed like an attestation "to matter." However personal that storyline could have been, I felt connection with the character. We all need to matter.