Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones
cleolinda

Sunday evening, prematurely sleepy

Sister Girl and I were watching a rerun of Judging Amy over lunch, the one where Amy goes to her ten-year Harvard reunion and all of her former friends are inexplicable asshats to her, and then Chris Sarandon randomly shows up and pwns them all. It was pretty awesome, in a lunchtime-rerun kind of way, until Sister Girl says, "Did you see the thing that came in the mail for you about your reunion?" Oh, shit. It's been ten years since high school, hasn't it? And the funny thing is, I'm not even feeling any sitcom agita about whether I should go or not. I know with cold dead certainty that I do not want to. If I magically become famous and fabulous by the next reunion, I'll be there with bells on. But I think it says a lot about my high school experience that I wouldn't actually be interested in seeing anyone; it would be all about showing them up. There's no one I really want to get back in touch with, either; the one friend I still have a relationship with, I've already seen her a few times since college, and while I need to get back in touch with her, that's independent of any group reunion. There were a lot of nice people at my school, don't get me wrong, but--I guess I felt extremely alone and detached throughout my high school career. I had a few kids to shoot the breeze with when our schedules intersected, kids I played spades with in Spanish class and had lunch with before going to work on the lit mag, kids who joked around in English, kids who smiled, sometimes, when I saw them in the hall. But I never dated in high school. I never went to homecoming or the prom. It wasn't that I wasn't invited to the parties; it was that I didn't even hear about them. I felt like a very lonely satellite making my orbit through the hall, passing other ships in the dark without ever making radio contact. And you know, I don't even know that I blame my classmates. We all had a very weird cocktail of shyness and awkwardness and insecurity floating around us--I thought everyone was ignoring me on purpose; they probably thought I was that writer girl who didn't want to talk to anyone. We want so much when we're teenagers, but we're so unequipped to give to anyone else, and so we all go hungry. And so the fact remains that I'm not invested in the class of 1997 at all, and it's not worth beating myself up over how not-yet-successful and un-thin I am for a bunch of people I feel disconnected from anyway.

However, if Chris Sarandon feels like coming over and pwning a bunch of football players for me, I might reconsider.

Meanwhile, here's how my weekend went: Bad Cat escaped to the wooded gully behind our house. Then some hours later, Bad Cat Retrieval was achieved with a can of gooshyfood and a chicken tender. I found the missing half of my favorite pair of turquoise earrings. I downloaded Google Desktop and felt very organized. And then I accomplished absolutely nothing the rest of the weekend.



From youngcurmudgeon: YAY! GOLDEN COMPASS PREVIEW! (Have no fear; the "finished" CGI looks kind of crappy precisely because it isn't.) If it goes away, let me know and I'll upload it somewhere. ETA: Why don't I ever learn that I should just upload it myself from the word go?

Hagel: Bush impeachment an option. Yes, I just gave a movie preview priority over a potentially important piece of political news. And I'd do it again.

Royals deny Harry involved in scuffle.

What if the Jayson Blair Was on the Other Foot? "Gerry Marzorati, the editor of the Sunday Magazine, told the Air Force Times that he doesn't think Randall was lying on purpose. 'I think she thinks she was in Iraq,' he is quoted as saying. 'I don't think she was trying to pull the wool over our eyes.' "

bibliotech: Orangutans face extinction by 2012.

101 Shareware and Freeware Programs Every Nerd Needs.

Hugo Weaving to Voice Megatron. NOOO! Don't tempt me to see this! This is lowdown!

First Shots of Stallone as Rambo. Did we just go back in time thirty years or something?

From grayeagle: More 300 macros. I like the Sbarro one for some reason.

I can't help it, I just love Neill Cumpston. "That’s what GRINDHOUSE is. It’s a taquito buffet that you puke up after getting hit with a motorcycle, and it turns into a bikini chick that blows you and kills your boss with a hammer. Rodriguez and Tarantino probably don’t read this site, but someone should tell them they can use that last paragraph as a quick blurb."

fox_gloves reports on what actually happened at the Mel Gibson/Apocalypto blowup: "The faculty of CSUN turned off her microphone and Mel Gibson said 'No, let her talk. Please.' And she became angry and said that her voice was being silenced even now by the fact that they were turning off her microphone. Mel Gibson said 'I'm listening to you! I can still hear you!' She began berating him again and accusing him of not doing ANY research. He kept repeating that he HAD done his research and that the story was not about portraying the Mayans as violent people but it was a chase story and about a man trying to get back to his family. He then said 'Lady, you're nothing but a troublemaker and Fuck OFF!' At which point the AUDIENCE cheered. They were there with the SOLE purpose of putting on a demonstration." This account is, incidentally, corroborated on Deadline Hollywood Daily.


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