For all you wackadoos who love weird-ass movies, I’ve compiled a list of my favorites.
So, little Amelie, your bones aren’t made of glass. You can take life’s knocks. If you let this chance go by, eventually your heart will become as dry and brittle as my skeleton. So… Go and get him, for pete’s sake!
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
My crotch is still here, just as you remembered it.
I believe death is only a door, when it closes, another opens. If I care to imagine heaven. I would imagine a door opening. And behind it, I would find him there, waiting for me.
Scott Pilgrim VS the World
Scott, if your life had a face, I would punch it.
Caroline: If you have the audacity… the… inaccuracy… to describe me as “ethereal,” as some flawless, perfect thing, then fuck you.
Caroline: No, fuck you. You don’t know anything about me. The only reason you think I am ethereal is because all we do is have sex and flirt and have sex.
Barry: There is more to you than that.
Caroline: I know that! I know! But I’m not here to save you. I’m the main character of my life!
A Beautiful Life
If I die tomorrow, I’ll have no regrets because I have seen you.
Vanessa: Your parents are probably wondering where you are.
Juno: Nah… I mean, I’m already pregnant, so what other kind of shenanigans could I get into?
I accelerate down a road I have not yet traversed. I travel beyond the red walls of a home I can not again call my home.
It occurred to me then, that perhaps the reason for my growth was I was intended for larger things. After all, a giant man can’t have an ordinary-sized life.
I wish I could tell you I am a completely independent woman. I really do. But getting lost on the Paris metro system, missing my train to London, and having to grovel for a cheap hotel room in a bad area made me realize that I am a dependent woman. And maybe that’s okay.
So today was a hazardous day at best. At worst utter shit. But there is always a sunrise on a cloudy day, and my sunrise was in the form of a fabulous kurti that I bought online. What, might you ask, is a mainline, upperclass white female doing with traditional Indian garb?
I’m embracing the beautiful.
You see, Fellow Readers of This Wondrous Blog, your monarch has often felt that American fashion is limiting, especially for the young adults. Frankly, it’s a bit of a bore-fest. I mean, come on–how many ways can you wear skinny jeans and tight tanks? Yawns galore. And in this wandering mind of your overlord was a love of all things foreign and unique. I’ve always admired different cultures, ethnicities, and nationalities because they seem so exotic, so full of life. And I’ve often wanted to show appreciation and respect, though I am only an outsider. I want to grow an afro (unlikely, but still) and wear a hijab and attend an Indian festival. I want to go into a synagogue.
And yet I am frightened. You aren’t supposed to act outside your established identity–a white person can’t “act black” or “ghetto,” a religious person can’t have doubts, a man can’t possess feminine sensibilities–because then you are a traitor to your identity.
I was also afraid of what they might say if I did some of those things. “She’s not one of us. She doesn’t share our way of life. She just does it for the material.”
And they would have a point.
But in the end, I don’t see such a difference. When I saw an old woman in a casual brown saree at my town’s annual festival, I thought, “That is beauty. I want to be that beauty.” I wanted to wear a saree and a choli. I want to stick a bindi on my forehead and feel the beauty that was the old woman.
Today I did. Or I would have, if not for the sweat stains and lack of a dupatta and traditional pants. Maybe next time.
Very interesting experiment!
I’m about as Pennsylvania Dutch as they come, blonde hair, blue eyes, with ancestors that came over on the Mayflower. So when it comes to women in head-coverings, I’ve always been the observer, not the observed. But that all changed the day I decided to write a book about world religions. In my book, No Fear: My Tale of Hijabs, Witchcraft Circles & the Cross, I’m not just researching religions, I’m living them.
image by Anne Garboczi Evans
I live in a 90% European-Caucasian middle class suburb of Denver. So the last time I saw someone dressed in Islamic attire in my town was — never. Fortunately, you can buy anything on Ebay.
My hijab came in the mail at 1 pm today. The blue head-covering consists of two pieces of knit fabric roughly resembling large socks. Then there is the abaya, the unfitted, plain-colored robe mandated by…
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I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a month. But I think that’s about to change.
Over the weekend, I partied. I drank. I danced. I toked (once). In essence, I kind of did the whole college experience, sans the horrible rap music in the background. And I met this really nice guy. Brad is into hard rock, baseball, and marijuana legalization (for obvious reasons). He’s the most fun I’ve had in ages. But if I’m not making out with him, I don’t know what to do or say.
The face lowers. The mouth dries. All train of thought drifts away, like the smoke in which he engulfs himself. Even now, his smell is still in my clothes.
“What do you want from this?” he asked me, my hand in his as he drove me back to my door.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I have no clue.”
But that was a bit of a lie. I did want something. I wanted security, happiness, friendship. I wanted conversation that didn’t feel like small talk. I wanted people to say, “Oh, there’s Chloe’s boyfriend, Brad. Aren’t they so cute?”
I can’t say that to him, though. It seems too much, too soon.
People are afraid to be vulnerable. They are terrified of it, and so they hide in distraction and misrepresentation. The heartthrobs of television and media are tough and merciless. They don’t give a fuck about anyone, and dat’s cool. But no one tells you vulnerability is beautiful. No one says that the bared neck receives more, be it kisses or scars. Heartthrobs get more action, but the soulful are the real winners.
I used to think that if I was a good girl and waited for my fantasy, I would get it. But it doesn’t work that way. You have to work for what you want, and he is what I want.
It’s time for a change.
A great example of alternative storytelling mediums, the Lizzie Bennet Diaries has won two Streamy Awards and one Emmy for Outstanding Creative Achievement In Interactive Media for an Original Interactive Program. The Lizzie Bennet Diaries is an American adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, and appears in vlog form.
On my 18th birthday, I skydived! Yeah, I was kind of afraid. But after seeing such beauty at around 12,000 feet, all that fear was worth it. You should totally try it!
I plan to do my next dive this coming summer:)