Crying at the Movies

On Thursday July 14, I went over to a friend's house for her birthday party. And it was an enormous nostalgia fest for the eight of us there, because five of them were going to the midnight premiere of the eighth Harry Potter movie.

(I, unfortunately, was the slag who didn't reserve her tickets on time, and would be going to see it at four P.M. the next day instead. I am dumb. The other two didn't like Harry Potter. I'm not quite sure what they were doing there. They must have felt very out of place.)

Quite a few of us had grown up with the series, and for the three hours before they left we were talking about our hopes for the movie, how great it would be, how everything was ending, but really nothing was. As one of my friends said, it wasn't like our books were going to disappear overnight. And we would always have our experiences, all the memories tied to years and years of reading this amazing series, and talking to friends about this amazing series, and making other people discover this bloody amazing series. All the fake wand duels, all the dressing up as Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley for Halloween, all the waiting, waiting, waiting for the next book or movie or announcement was not going to be erased from our memories because there weren't going to be any new movies or books.
They left for the midnight premiere at 10:30, and I was picked up and taken home with a heavy heart. Talking to my friends, most of whom had been similarly affected by the Harry Potter series, made it hit me--hard--that this basically looked like the end of my life. And I'd better damn well appreciate that now, while I still can.
The next day took forever, because I was waiting until four o'clock and torturing myself with Tumblr, which was Potter-saturated. We got to the theater at three o'clock, waited in a line that was already enormous and made me panic that we would end up in the first row, looking up at the movie screen like it was the top of the Sears Tower. (But we didn't, thank the gods.)
I had puffed myself up before, thinking that I was emotionally prepared for this movie. I'd read the books! I knew what was going to happen! I was prepared for the fact that every minute that passed by was my childhood being wrenched away from me! I was totally prepared, yeah?
God, no, I wasn't.
I cried:

1. When the Death Eaters burned the Quidditch pitch, and I remembered Harry as an untroubled first year playing for the first time on that pitch, and my eyes welled up before I could help it.
2. From when Snape died to the end.

Most people kept drinks in their cupholders. I kept tissues.

And then the Hogwarts Express sped away at the end of the film, it felt so final. That's it. It's only lucky for this generation that we were here to see it.

Quote for Monday, July 18, 2011:

"If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[ pasdlgkhasdfasdf." 

— Lemony Snicket (Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid)

Muse for Today:

I saw a GIF of Jo Rowling saying this on Tumblr, but I can't find it now, but I was emotionally vulnerable the other day and it made me cry.
“Whether you come back by page or by the big screen, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.”

Also, in less important news that I feel like I have to share anyway: It is my blog's birthday today. It is two years old.

A Desperately Scattered Post

Generic Friend: Heyy

Me: Hi.

Generic Friend: What's up?!?

Seriously? I might kill you.

I don't like people who do that. If you are bored, don't spread your ennui my way. I am happy here. On the internet. Or, you know, not on the Internet. Um, yeah. That happens, um, often. All the time. *coughs, refuses to make eye contact, pulls at collar of t-shirt*

As much as I like hearing from my friends, them being bored is not really something that stimulates my interest. Become less boring, and then talk to me.

Oh. I'm a jerk. Don't look at me. DON'T LOOK AT MY TEARS

Exams are over, but I still have to get my results, and I am maybe 89.4% sure I failed math and physics, but I am not worried about anything else. Because I am totallyfreakingwonderful at everything else, right? *begins to cry anew*

Also, I finished Darkly Dreaming Dexter. The ending traumatized me because Jeff Lindsay is a brilliant, annoying sadist who likes toying with the vulnerable feelings of his readers. But I quite like the book, and I would read the second one. Dexter's an interesting guy.

Things what I did today:

• Woke up
• Took an English final
• The bell rang in a disappointingly un-High School Musical way
• But we were let out of school forever! (Until next fall)
• Walked to a restaurant to have breakfast with three of my friends
• Ate breakfast
• It was really good (banana-nut French toast)
• Wandered around my town
• Realized that if you are a group of nerdy teenagers there is nothing to do in my town
• Walked to a craft store
• Bought black half-masks
• Wore them on the street
• I'm fairly sure people in their cars thought we were crazy
• I know at least one of them stared
• Went to my house
• Watched Phineas and Ferb
• Hmm
• Anyway
• Got a shot
• It didn't really hurt that badly
• But I would say that anyway, because I want the Internet to believe that I'm not a sniveling little coward
• Ate pasta
• Gods above, I did a lot of eating today
• And putting it on this list just makes me look like a bigger pig
• Ah well
• I do like eating
• I am watching Tron: Legacy
• And it is well-made and quite technically proficient
• (HONESTLY, GUYS--THEY'RE WEARING LIGHT)
• But Disney needs to stop using the name 'Flynn'
• Tangled and Tron: Legacy had close release dates, and they had 'Flynn Rider' and 'Sam Flynn' respectively
• The next film they release will have a guy named 'Flynn Flynn'
• I wouldn't be surprised
• I am done
• I have to finish watching this film

Quote for Friday, June 10, 2011:

I assure you, a tiger, or a venomous serpent could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he wakens.

-Isabella Heathcliff

(http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Wuthering_Heights#Wuthering_Heights_.281847.29)

Muse for Today:

Sometimes, being with people you like very much is exhaustive, because you actually care about their opinions. I tend to be more honest with people I barely know than people whom I actually trust. Why is this?

Desperate

Oh, my gods.

School ends tomorrow.

It will be my last day at a school where I basically grew up, yo-yo-ed between friends and stood up for the ones I actually liked, eavesdropped, laughed, cried, worried and smiled.

Now, I am hit with the realization that I will never never ever go back there as a normal student. Only a little while ago, I would have embraced this and run out of the place screaming.

I hate change. Especially change of mood. Especially change of mood about something important.

I need a stunt. I need something big and miraculous to happen to me. I need something different to happen in my life. I always know what to expect. I hate being like this, but there is nothing exciting in my life!

BLEH.

I am in a dark-gray mood.

Which is not a mood for a Muse or quote.

If you must know.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians Trailer

Is it bad that the only thing I was thinking when I saw this was "I hate this"?

I really, actually don't care if that's bad. That's what I thought.

Here's why:

• I don't like the Annabeth actor.
• I don't like the Grover actor.
• I don't like the Annabeth actor.
• I don't like the Percy actor.
• I DON'T LIKE THAT SILLY ANNABETH ACTOR.
• I don't like that they made out that Percy is some iPod obsessed Zac-Efron-haired-kid. (I mean, honestly? Logan Lerman, the idiot that plays Percy, had a voice that reminded me of High School Musical. And using his iPod to look at Medusa? What are they playing at? I know they're trying to make it all modern, but they're losing the spirit of the books!)
• I don't like that they acted like Grover was some skirt-chaser instead of a nervous little goat-boy.
• I don't like that Percy is seventeen years old. Has the script writer read the book? It's all-important to a prophecy that Percy turns SIXTEEN. SIXTEEN is slightly younger than SEVENTEEN. So what are you going to do, huh? Percy Jackson and the Suburban Family of the Camp Half-Blood Kids?
• Did I mention that I DON'T LIKE THE ANNABETH ACTOR?

George

George was a good fish. He deserves a post.

George has died. He is gone forever, and I feel really bad. I didn't take care of him properly. I forgot to feed him, I forgot to plug the oxygen filter back in, I felt lazy and forgot about him. And still resilient little George swam on.

K is crying. He feels worse than I do. I remember when Blues, my cousins' fish that I took care of, died. I felt the same way.

Death is weird. It's hard to comprehend. It's odd to think that someone was there yesterday and be gone the next.

Fred, my dear, other little fish, K's fish, actually, will probably die too. He is not used to being alone.

He is little too.

Then the fish tank will be put away, something else will take its place, the singing of the filter will stop, and those two, orange little fish will be memories.

Where the Wild Things Are

I've cannot count how many times I've seen blog posts titled this.

Where the Wild Things Are can refer to one of two things, sometimes both. One is the picture book written by Maurice Sendak in 1963 that many schoolchildren have read, at least in my experience. The other is the recent movie that was directed by Spike Jonze (sounds like a biker. It's a cool name). Wait. There was another movie made in 1973, but I'll stop trying to be professional and not beat around the bush. I am talking about the book and the recent movie.

I've heard a lot about the movie. It is confuzzling me. I recently re-re-re-re-reread the book and there is not much content you can use to create a movie. I heard they put in a reason for Max being a bad kid (Max is the main character, a badly behaved boy), like his parents were getting a divorce or something. When I read the book for the first time, I didn't think much of it. I was about five to seven years old, so I thought very simply. Max=boy. Boy=bad behavior. But I also heard the movie was geared more towards adults 'looking for deeper meaning in a favorite childhood book.'

Hmmm.

I shall postpone further criticism until I actually see the movie.

Have you realized how much the movie industry is running out of ideas? They're all based on books. Harry Potter. Twilight. Coraline. Fantastic Mr. Fox. Confessions of a Shopaholic. Angels and Demons. The daVinci Code. I Love You, Beth Cooper. Inkheart. Sherlock Holmes. The Time Traveler's Wife. A Christmas Carol. Slumdog Millionaire. Alice in Wonderland. Marley and Me. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Ballet Shoes.

Just off the top of the top of my head.

Quote of the Day:

People would cry for the death of a bird, but never for the blood of a fish. Blessed are those who have a voice.

-Ghost in the Shell

(http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Fish)

Muse for Today:

George, my fish. Rest in peace, little fishy.