Monday, October 31, 2005

Ahhh!!!

Weaver:Oh my god! Oh my god!
Voice: What? What's going on?
Weaver: NaNoWriMo starts in 8 minutes!
Voice: What?
Weaver: Can't talk! Must prepare! Bye!

Sunday, October 02, 2005

The Over-Dramatization of Just Like Heaven

MistWeaver: I suppose my father does have his uses.
Voice: What do you mean?
Weaver:
I mean that I just saw a great movie with a great friend and may be going to Montreal at the end of the month, all because he's in suck-up mode.
Voice: I see you've softened somewhat towards him.

Weaver snorts.

Weaver:
Softened, my ass. If he thinks he can buy my love, he's sorely mistaken. On the other hand, I think that every dollar spent is a little bit of retribution for everything he's taking away from my mother. But that's not what I came to talk about.
Voice: What did you come to talk about, then?
Weaver: I came to talk about the movie I saw. Just Like Heaven, with Reese Witherspoon.
Voice: Considering your earlier comment, I assume it was good.
Weaver: It was more than good. It was excellent. Amusing and supremely conductive to a case of the warm fuzzies. Even the dude from Napoleon Dynamite had a good role, much as I disliked that movie.
Voice: I'm guessing that you're going to expand on your review.
Weaver: Yes, I am. Now would probably be a good time to warn for...

SPOILERS!!!!!

Weaver:
Just so that I can talk all that I want with a clean conscience.

You see, there are just some movies (and books) in this world tha tmake me feel good. Not just good, but great. They make you want to squeak and squeeze the book (or yourself, in the case of a movie tightly and wish you could share in the feelings. Usually this is when there's love involved, and it's believable, just for a second, that happily ever after does really happen.

Voice: Even when the said person is like you, and can predict the supposed 'plot twists' and surprises?
MistWeaver: Especially when the person is like me and can predict everything going to happen. It's like you know it's going to happen and that just makes it all the sweeter when it does. It feels like they try so hard to make things unpredictable, give things unhappy endings, that sometimes you can forget just how nice it is to see other people happy, in love.

In JLH, 'twasn't easy, the ending. Everything wasn't perfect. I predicted that he'd build the garden for her on the roof. I wasn't sure if she would remember him, or if they would have to start over as real people instead of the circumstances that were thrown at them.

I guess the story all comes back to balance. They were destined to meet, and that fate was interrupted. Thus, the world unbalanced itself and had to regain that balance in some way. That's why only he could see her, feel her. She wasn't dead, therefore she wasn't a ghost and semi-tangible to all. The little imbalance caused by her accident made her semi-tangible only to him, because until they righted things by meeting and falling in love, that little imbalance would remain and probably grow.

Voice: I believe I speak for many when I note the insensibility of that which you just said.

MistWeaver: That's okay. I understood it and that's all that really matters.

MistWeaver sighs.

Weaver:
Some things just hit me hard in that movie though, as I'm sure they were supposed to. For instance, when she can't remember him after she wakes up. That broke my heart almost as badly as it broke his. I get all worked up just thinking about it. He went through so much to save her life, and after everything he did, all the research he did to bring back her memory, all the stuff they did for each other...

HE FREAKING FAILED!!!!!

Through a freaking accident, her breathing tube got freaking cut off and she freaking DIED!!!!!

And then...

MistWeaver sighs again, tiredly.

Voice:
Needing sleep?

Weaver: I need to talk about this more. Where was I? Oh, yes. Screaming out in indignation and fury over the injustice of it all.

Anyway. He fails. She fades. He cries--well, I can't remember if he really does but I sure as hell did--and leans in to kiss her comatose lips. Holy shit! I think. Can't she feel what he does to her real body? Indeed she must, because as she fades from view, her eyes widen and her hands fly wonderingly up to her lips.

Who else was betting she was a virgin?

Fuck yeah, I was. No pun intended.

Now, this must be the final connection needed to set things straight, because she comes alive! Yes, that's it. Spirit reconnects with body. She wakes up.

Voice: I'm sure that at this point, others are complaining about the corniness and predictability of it all.

Weaver: Be quiet, you. Yes, it's predictable. Yes, it's corny. But do I care?

Fuck no!

But then she doesn't remember him. After all of that, SHE REMEMBERS NOTHING!!!

That alone is enough to send me back to tears. So sue me. I'm in an emotional mood.

He realizes this, and stumbles back in shock. Blinded by tears, I'm sure, he pushes past the security guards and run for his life.

Sorry about the over-dramatization of it all. But that made me so sad...

I get these emotional moods sometimes. I just crave a happily-ever-after story to make me happy, to let me drop the cynicality and sarcasm that make up a lot of my existence and dream about one day finding my own happily-ever-after.

Voice: Do you think that you'll find it?
MistWeaver:
No.
Voice: Then why imagine it?
Weaver: Because imagining is what I do. Sometimes these kinds of imaginings depress me, make me long for what I can't have. But sometimes, I can almost taste it. Besides, there's always that tiny little cursed piece of hope that is present in all I do.
Voice: Would that tiny little cursed piece of hope perhaps be the reason that you imagine?
Weaver: Exactly. It's the reason that whenever I fall for someone, I fall hard and long. There's always the chance that they'll like me back, way after that hope should have died (or been squashed out). Like the guy I will almost admit to liking. He has a girlfriend, even. And hates me, kinda. Like, what the fuck? Who in their right mind would persist under those conditions? Never making a move because she's too fucking shy, always just talking and listening and wondering. Hoping. And that's not even to speak of the other one...

Hell, if it weren't for the fact that nobody reads this, I wouldn't be admitting this right now.

Voice: Everyone has their weaknesses and strengths. This is probably both for you. You're loyal. That's a rare and beautiful thing. Being too shy to ask anyone out... Maybe you'll grow out of it. Maybe one day it won't matter. I know that you think these things, and they are a part of that little kernel of hope. Just remember that que serĂ¡, serĂ¡. Whatever will be, will be.

There's a moment of thoughtful pause where the mist swirls around Weaver's feet and she comtemplates this, nodding absently.

Weaver:
I think that I've just been a recipient of one of your rare moments of advice. Thank you.

A faint tugging pulls at Weaver's grey skirt. All of a sudden there is a lot more mist, and Weaver looks away into the distance towards the source.

Voice: I think that your dreams are calling you again.

MistWeaver nods and begins to walk away, fading bit by bit as she does.

Weaver:
Good night.