Monthly Archives: November 2010

thirst

they say if you put a seashell to your ear,
you can hear
the sounds of an ocean contained inside,
a tumultuous roar twisting and spiraling in echoing chasms

hissing and bellowing stories about the waves of the past
that once washed them to shore
where they were stumbled upon and treasured
and put on a shelf to try and bring a little of the deep sea
to the surface.

what i hear
when i lift the cold fragment to my ear
are a thousand murmuring voices
repeating the same soft discouragements over and over,
a pounding
rushing sound
like a hot wind ripping mercilessly across the floor of a
dry and whispering desert,
etching cracks deep into the broken and baked ground
without a trace of cool or soothing waters,
and when i close my eyes
i can feel my skin burning and splitting at the edges;
spiderwebs spilling from the corner of my eyes and
along the edges of my lips
as i am reduced to a desert
and you are magnified inside the wind
hissing in my ear.

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 1, or; I break my biggest personal rule of NO CRYING FOR MOVIES.

I just got back from watching part 1 of the movie I have waited half my life to watch. I’m still wiping tears from my eyes, so it may not be the clearest review ever, but I must gush.

Now, to start off, I do not cry during movies. Ever. I was the heartless person who sat next to her friend through Toy Story 3 and didn’t cry. To take it even further, I am the person who laughed out loud at the people who were crying. So when said friend told me I was going to cry, I just laughed because I don’t cry during movies, right?

WRONG! :)

I’ve been a huge Harry Potter fan my entire life. For about two years, I literally refused to read anything else, until my dad eventually banned the books so I would expand my literary horizons. I don’t remember the ban ever being lifted… I think it was probably when the next book in the series came out. From the fourth book on, when a new book came out, I would cease all other activity, including sleep, open the new book, and read until I reached the end, possibly stopping to eat, but that was rare. I read them all in one day, devoured them, loved every single character including the ones I despised, memorized spells (yes, I’m aware that magic is NOT REAL, to any possible people out there saying this proves their point that you should never let children read books like this because they can’t separate reality from fiction. I am capable of recognizing the two. I just sometimes choose not to for short periods of time) and fell head over heels in love with Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. I’m a sucker for a good bad guy/supposed bad guy. Never really liked Voldemort, though. The nose bothered me and he was bald, therefore in the vaguest ways reminding me of my dad, and I’m not the sort to fall for a guy like my dad.

I watched all the movies as they came out, of course. Most of them accompanied by the sounds of me yelling “THAT ISN’T RIGHT!!!” and complaining about how they ruined it, loving it all the while anyway. I don’t really re-watch the movies that often, except for my friend’s annual Harry Potter party in which they watch one of them. Even then, we’re generally too busy over at Honeyduke’s pigging out.

Anyway, from the fourth movie on (why is it always the fourth?) though, I started enjoying the movies more. At the fifth, I started going to see them within the first day or two that they came out. I re-read the series beforehand each time. I literally cannot count how many times I’ve read the series through, and each book individually. I mean, I started re-reading Deathly Hallows the instant I was done reading it the first day it came out. At two in the morning. Yep, after spending hours and hours and hours reading, I flipped the book right back over and started reading again. I can’t begin to describe the love I have for these books.

So anyways, enough nostalgia, on to THIS movie. I was dying to go to the premier. I am a firm believer that it is much better to see a long-expected movie after standing in lines for hours with screaming fans who want to see it as badly as you do, who have been waiting to see it as long as you have, who are willing to stay up as late as they have to and pay as much money as they are required to see the movie the INSTANT it is possible. My mom kinda shot that dream down and I had to wait an extra 11 and a half hours to see it with my family whom, while all Harry Potter fans (Mercy ALMOST as much as I) were not exactly as hyped up about the movie as I was.

I was firmly set on not crying in the movie from the minute I walked in. Okay, so, yes, I sobbed over each and every single death in the book. Deathly Hallows was, actually, the only book in which anyone died who I cried over, but then, everyone died, so that was to be expected. But movies are different. I never cry over them, remember?

I have to say, the movie was outstanding. There were things I was upset they missed. The scene with Dudley and Harry, before the Dursleys leave, for example. I feel like that scene in the book really made Dudley a Real Character, and even Petunia to some extent. I was looking forward to watching it. But they didn’t even show Dudley’s face. And the scene at Xenophilius Lovegood’s house, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione go up to Luna’s room and see the painting on her ceiling. I also really was surprised that they left out Kreacher’s story. After all that search for R.A.B., they aren’t even going to let us hear the story? That was one of the reasons Kreacher became one of my favorite characters!

I was disappointed in some of the casting (Mundungus Fletcher, anyone?) but other than that, it really was pretty good. Very different from the other movies, although then, it was different from the other BOOKS, too. I must admit, I miss Hogwarts a little bit. But some of the things they added in were quite good. While it was never in the book, the little dancing scene with Harry and Hermione was sweet and had me a little teary-eyed. Seeing Neville on the train, even just for a few seconds, I was flooded with all of my fond Nevillesque memories and was reminded how much I love him. Teary-eyed again, even if he only had like two lines. Harry and Hermione at Harry’s parents’ grave? One whole tear slipped down my cheek, at which point I announced loudly to my sister that I was NOT going to do this.

And then Dobby. I should have known it was coming. Dobby has such a special place in my heart. I adore Dobby. When I saw him, I went “Oh no. I’m going to cry. I can’t believe this, nothing’s even happened yet, but I’m going to cry. The instant he gets off that chandelier-” and I was right. I was breathing hard and blinking harder, and then he looked Bellatrix Lestrange in the eye and said “Dobby is a free elf.” And I completely and utterly lost it. My sister was laughing at me, and he wasn’t even dead yet, and tears were rolling down my face. I was crying so hard I could barely hear him talking to Harry as he died, and I didn’t stop until the end of the movie. I was tearing up again in the car on the ride home. I cried updating my facebook status to tell everyone I had cried. I cried again thinking about it. I’ve never been so emotional over a character’s death.

And then I got to thinking about what will happen when I watch Alan Rickman/Snape (the two biggest loves of my fictional and celebrity-loving life united in one character) die. I can’t even imagine. I am probably going to go into mourning for days and be escorted out be security because I can’t control myself. I am getting teary just thinking about it. I’m already scared, and I have eight months to go.

But even though I broke my biggest personal rule of NO CRYING FOR MOVIES, it really was incredible. The best movie yet, I think. I truly did love it, and I would pay to see it again AND buy it on DVD. I think they did a wonderful job overall, and I can not wait for the next one.

What were your thoughts watching it?

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do you?

do you know
what you do?
that this
everpresent wondering
is a weight every second,
every day, ever week?
that you trigger each and every
single moment in which i feel
naked and empty
before a crowd of skeptics with
perfect blue eyes and invisible
yet obvious and understanding smiles?
do you know
how it feels,
this dull weight
that hits me every time that i
look you full in the face?
do you know
i still see a spark
of what fire there was once?
i think
you know.

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seek me while a stranger

be my spare lungs.

wrap me up tight in deep maroon notes and brush my
face with liquid-silver sound
don’t breathe with me, don’t breathe into me, just breathe me
i want you to hold me and never let go, i want you to
be worth that one hundred percent surety
that doesn’t matter anymore and is always wrong,
that hurts like hell every morning
and makes me open lockets and scratch out the pictures inside with
angry broken fingernails.

damn this damn this damn you

i am drowning in piles of unretained knowledge and ignoring
the dirty dishes and cat vomit and bottles of painkillers building up around
my bed, instead swallowing a few sleeping pills and turning up the volume,
trying to forget the load of shit ahead of me and
begging you like i have for months,
and i know i am not effective and am not bringing in the lost sheep
but what about that sheep that was me?

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my first poem

to the best of my memory, i think my first poem was written when I was about six. our family was in the condo we had rented on imperial beach, which remains to this day my favorite place. i had just finished reading the wanderer by sharon creech, and i loved it. looking back now, i only understood about half of it, but that didn’t matter to me then because i didn’t know there was another half to grasp.
we have video of my reading my poem aloud. i’m standing in the living room, in front of a crackling fire, and you can hear the ocean through the open window in the background. my hair was still ridiculously long (my mom didn’t let me cut it until i was eight or nine) and blond, and i kept on brushing it out of my face while i talked to the camera. i’m reading off a sheet of paper with my horrible, large handwriting scrawled across it. come to think of it, i still have it somewhere. dunno why i saved it. i was a bit proud of everything i did back then, so maybe i thought it was the best poem in the world.

the sea, the sea, the sea.
it rolls and rolls and calls to me.
come in, mom calls,
and i always get out.

anyone who’s read the wanderer will know right away what i called my “inspiration.”

“The sea, the sea, the sea. It rolled and rolled an called to me. Come in, it said, come in.
And in I went, floating, rolling, splashing, swimming, and the sea called, Come out, come out, and further I went but always it swept me back to shore.
And still the sea called, Come out, come out, and in boats I went- in rowboats and dinghies and motorboats, and after I learned to sail, I flew over the water, with only the sounds of the wind and the water and the birds, all of them calling, Sail on, sail on.” ~The Wanderer, Sharon Creech (page one)
but to me, it wasn’t copied. to me it was a poem, a real poem, written by me myself. kind of funny. i fancied myself as very good at a lot of things when i was little, and at some point decided i was destined for a career in every one of them. but as obviously proud of the poem as i was, i don’t think i ever even considered writing any more. colored a picture in the lines? i was going to be an illustrator. rode a pony that someone boarded at my grandmother’s house without falling off? i was going to be a jockey. reminded a little kid what sound the letter “a” made? i was going to be a teacher. but write a poem i was proud of? well, obviously, stick it in a box and forget about it for eight or nine years.

but i know now i will never be an illustrator, even though i’m not terrible at art. i’m just not very good. i don’t live for it. i found out i was basically terrified of horses a few years later and decided i should just be a groomer instead, and then a few years after that realized i just don’t really like horses that much. the idea of being a teacher persisted for a while, until i realized i am impatient and a bit conceited and i take very little pleasure in dealing with people who can’t match my skill level on things i love.

the one thing i never considered being is the one thing i want more than anything. i want to spend my whole life putting everything i love and hate and find beautiful and find ugly into words on a page or computer screen and sharing it with other people. i don’t really care about being published. i just want to be able to share. when i see something beautiful i want to give to someone, or something i want to say, i want to be able to write it down and give it to them and tell them these words are for you.

some of the plans i had have stuck. i knew from the beginning i wanted kids. i knew from the minute i watched sense and sensibility when i was four that i wanted to get married, although my idea of what that really means has changed quite a bit. i don’t really expect some tortured proposal from my husband, although it would be rather nice. some things just never change.

but i know now. writing is something i never want to give up. it’s like breathing. why would you give it up? i mean, giving up writing wouldn’t kill all of me, but not sharing my life feels a lot like that. so no matter how frustrated i am, or not matter how strongly i feel that i cannot write, i do anyway. because it’s just part of my life now.

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