More about the wild.

"I read somewhere... how important it is in life not necessarily

to be strong... but to feel strong." - Christopher McCandless

It's amazing how certain films and literature can affect me so. In opinion, vocabulary, style, and so on. But in this case, I've been affected in multiple ways... and I haven't even finished the film yet.

In my english class we're watching Into the Wild, one of my teacher's favorite movies. I've never read the book but the film is excellent thus far. This is the plot if you don't know:

A young man scorned by lies and society leaves the material world behind to live in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his back and tools to acquire the bare necessities (almost typed "bear" thank you, Jungle book).

After watching this, or most of it, as we have fifteen minutes left, (how cruel can you be, Mr. H?) I've thought about the characters and plot to a ridiculous extent. And I understand the main character, Christopher McCandless a.k.a. Alexander Supertramp far too well. He's a loner who tries but fails to understand the world around him. Christopher reads a lot and excels in most of the things he does. Of course, after having this initial thought walking out of class about six people smiled, waved, and struck up conversation with me, ironic as it hardly happens. There goes my relation with the movie. I kid, but the way it played out made me giggle.

This film also makes me really want to go on a road trip and just be. Not to the extent that Mr. Supertramp goes to but just imagine: Walking around... no, floating wherever the road takes you and just... being. Meeting new people, seeing new places... It has to be liberating to an insane degree. I can't even imagine. But I know at some point in my life, I want to do that. I want to float.

This third thing this film has instilled in me is my current venture: better intake habits (as pictured above). I've been a sugar fiend for awhile. I'm assuming Into the Wild has subliminal messages about eating healthy because as soon as I got home the first day of watching it, I grabbed raspberries and grapes, got some water and was totally content. AND I went running later. Crazy, huh? I've been keeping this up for the past couple days and plan to for... well.. as long as I can. I'm not going to lie, random thought here, but I did not know the word raspberry had a "p" in it until just now. Tip of the hat to spell check.

Winston emerging from lands unknown.

I had to post this. Most of you, I assume, have read about Winston's mischief in my mom's blog. We found him in the street as a kitten and he's a booger. Loves to get into everything, as you can see here. I recently found a video on youtube by this guy who is more in love with his cat than anyone I have ever seen. Conan is almost identical to Winston in looks and behavior, but Winston has something on this web celeb feline: he's discovered a world I've been looking for for years.

Winston goes on little exploits most mornings into the sofa in the "wreck" room. I mean literally crawls into the cushions of the sofa and disappears for a good amount of time. He doesn't make any noise or anything and I have come to this conclusion: Winston has discovered couch Narnia. And I am supremely jealous.

Draco, another one of our cats whom I don't have a picture of at the moment, can't quite fit into the portal to Narnia. He's a big boy and I'm willing to bet it's frustrating to not get to join the fun. I picked Draco out and named him accordingly as he is all white and used to have a small "Dark Mark" on his head. Sweet as he is (he's a super-mush), he's a little... light in the cranium. He'll often stare into space with his mouth hanging open (I'm not lying), and snore. We have a very diverse little family of critters. It's quite fun to talk about.

But back on track, I cannot wait to finish the movie. And for the first time, I don't want to read the literature that inspired it. My mom tells me that Christopher (Alexander) comes off as spoiled in the book and honestly, I don't want that image of him in my head. I like this rambunctious, loopy extremist with his baby face and wild eyes. This movie is speaking to me in ways that I haven't been spoken to since Fight Club. Not as much, but almost. And don't even get me started on the cinematography. It's breathtaking.

"I'm going to paraphrase Thoreau here... rather than love, than money,

than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me truth." - Christopher McCandless

Time is a fickle thing.

And so I have barely been on here. Between make up homework from being ill and working, I haven't had time to do anything I'd like to. My to-do list isn't large but it's full of significant things. Reading books that aren't assignments, running so I can get my be-hind into decent shape, and going on www.livemocha.com to continue learning German. The latter is, I think, my top priority as I want to visit my aunt in Germany by summer. After that comes running. I need to get my behind moving. Anymore, getting weighed is the worst part of going to the doctor. Number's always going up. Granted it's mostly due to inflammation but still. Ah well, we'll see what happens. Anywho, luckily I had time to dye my hair. Or rather, my mom had time to.

Bad picture quality but I just wanted one that

showed the spectrum, front to back.

Since freshman year of high school, I have been dying my hair. And every once in awhile I stop and go brown or blonde, or attempt to grow it back out. And I think I do that because I have this belief that guys will like me if I look like a normal person. And usually I laugh at this but sometimes I'm not sure. What sucks is how torn I am between conforming and doing what I love.

I am always happier with color in my hair. I feel like something is missing when I'm natural. But I also don't like the judge-a-book-by-its-cover attitude I get geared towards me. It's win/lose and sometimes I really don't know what outweighs what. Single, judged, "weird", colorful, and a bit more upbeat? Or taken, invisible, "normal", bland, and bored to tears? I don't know which is better...

Drew Barrymore in Mad Love. I adore her haircut.

Maybe I'll find a happy medium. Chin length hair and one color? That means no more patterns though... it's amazing how much of a dilemma this is to me. To dye or not to dye? Cut or not to cut? I have much bigger things to stress over and yet, this is often what I worry about most. Well... perhaps third most.

Point is, I have way too much of a problem with my appearance. I'm a nit-picker and it's something I need to stop. Despite the fact that I'm in love with my hair, I keep telling myself, "After this, it's being grown out." I care too much about what others think. So, essentially, I think my number one goal has become training myself to not care. It's hard though.

For some reason, and I have yet to figure out why a million compliments never seem to take away the sting of half a dozen insults. Maybe it's because people significant to me have dished them out, or maybe I just cannot take criticism, whether it's bull or not.

Agh, I'm being a whiner. I didn't mean for this to be a complaining post. It just sort of ended up that way. So my apologies. I guess I just needed to vent. I have way too much on my mind and if I don't let some out, my eyes may pop out of my head.

On a brighter note, I saw Where the Wild Things Are. It was beautiful. I cannot lie though; I did cry. And I have only ever cried during five movies: The Green Mile, Brother Bear, The Perfect Storm, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and Where the Wild Things Are. My mom cried as well but, as she admitted in her blog, she cries during almost every movie. And even some trailers. ;]

I usually get more emotional with books. I'm reading The Lovely Bones for school right now and sobbed through the beginning. It's great though, I can't wait to finish. The last three Harry Potter books made me cry too. But that was because Rowling killed my five favorite characters. That's not really a spoiler right? I didn't say who. Another tear jerker was John Steinbeck's The Pearl, which I absolutely loathed. I read that sophomore year and threw it out of my room and down the hall at the end. Ridiculous book haha.

Okay, now I'm rambling. Enough for now. I'm going to try to sleep. I finally saw Gladiator today and I plan on attempting to keep the image of Russel Crowe in his gladiator get-up in my head before drifting off.

Green with envy.

And over a fictional character too. Do you ever ask yourself, “If I could be anyone, who would it be?” I do all of the time but I think I’ve found a new answer and here it is: If I could be anyone, fictional or not, I would be Pam Beesly from The Office. And here is the reason why:

*sigh*

This past week, Jim and Pam got married. As much as I love them as a couple, and I truly do, the stupid part of me pouted and whined “Why not me?” I mentally groaned in jealousy when Jim cut his tie in half after Pam ripped her veil and got upset. It was just so sweet. You can see the love in his eyes and smile when he talks about/looks at her. I now have a quest in life. I must find a Jim Halpert.

I know I’m young and have little experience in the dating field, but majority of the guys I know are either total jerks or simply immature. And it makes me wonder if Jim’s are a rare type of man. Maybe once some of these guys grow into their twenties they’ll be different. But still… it’s the equivalent of Where’s Waldo, but the picture is the size of an SUV. And I actually feel like finding the guy. Pathetic, isn’t it?

And now you’re going to laugh at me really hard because I found out something new while looking for a picture for this blog. John Krasinski, the actor who plays Jim, is engaged to Emily Blunt. I don’t really know much about her, though I’ve heard of her. All I know is I want to hear him say my name. I’m so corny.

So this is a short but sweet one today. I needed to get my love for the Big Tuna off my chest. I really cannot think of a better example of the closest to perfect a man can get. He’s just so sweet, and funny, and… well, look at him. :P Way too adorable for his own good. And despite two searches on youtube, I can’t find him saying “Emily”. Ah… the hunt continues… ;]

Braaaaaiiiiinnnnnssssssss.

Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg) and Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson)

prepare to kick flesh-munching ass in Zombieland.

Well, hello. Welcome to my little corner of the internet. I’m not really sure how to go about writing a blog; I’m just sort of winging it. So today’s topic is going to seem a tad gruesome and I guess I won’t be shocked if you don’t return to my page after this. Discussion topic for today: Zombies.

If you follow my mom’s blog then you will know I spent Saturday limping and groaning around Asbury Park looking dead as can be. If not… now you know. That was my first Zombie Walk. Needless to say, next time one comes lurching up I’m there.

But even besides the walk I’ve been having a zombie-filled week. On purpose of course: I needed to prepare. I watched Shaun of the Dead 1 and ¾ times (I was too tired to finish it the first time) and dragged my mom to Zombieland on Friday. If you haven’t seen it yet and enjoy the undead, I highly recommend it. Oh, and I even planned on watching Dawn of the Dead (Snyderized) last night but I had some studying to do.

Even though I love this genre of film dearly, whether serious survival adventure or goofy gut buster (literally), I always end up thinking morbidly about if I ever could pull through this sort of apocalypse. And I tend to reach this conclusion: No. I’d be an easy appetizer.

Here’s the deal (minor spoiler alert ahead*). In Zombieland, one of the main characters, Columbus, has rules on how to survive. Number one is cardio. Now, I’m not terribly out of shape but I do have asthma. Sounds like I’m in a bit of trouble, right? Well if the zombies are runners, that is. Hobblers I can take. Columbus also has IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome); I have Crohn’s disease. Though he manages, if I couldn’t get my meds, I have the feeling I’d be an easy catch. And there’s his rule number three to consider: beware of bathrooms. But since he could deal, I guess I’d be all right (no more spoilers after this point :] ).

Another reason, and this is a kicker: I have never fired any sort of gun. Not even a paintball gun. Oh, wait, I lied: I’ve fired a Nerf gun many times. So other than sniper mode in Star Wars Battlefront II and Nerf wars, I’m assuming Gov. Patterson has better aim than I do (don’t groan, SNL rips on that guy every other week). Seriously, I most likely couldn’t hit water if I fell off of a boat. Plus, psychologically, zombies are probably more than I can handle. I lose my cool over research papers. Flesh eating family and friends? Yeah… I’d be a goner.

If you think this is paranoia, you should have met me three summers ago when I was introduced to the undead. Talk about a wreck. I constructed a survival plan and bought the Zombie Survival Guide. Almost had a heart attack when I had to stay in a house in North Carolina for a week with no TV and radio. “What if the outbreak starts?! We won’t know!” I suppose if you’ve read this far, you’ll probably be back to laugh at my pathetic arse. I don’t blame you. My mom continues to bust on me for it.

But I still love zombies. Just the concept, and all of the literary and cinematic magic they inspire… It’s the kind of genre that allows you to scream and then laugh later (even if it does takes years of reassuring that the idea is fictional… right?). Plus, who doesn’t love a man kicking brain-hungry butt in a snakeskin jacket… I love you Woody Harrelson. ;]

All in all, I have an 85% love, 15% hate relationship with mindless cannibals. I’ve had many a nightmare about them but I cannot and probably will never get enough.

*I will always do this. If there is one thing I hate more than people on their cell phones at the cinema, it’s when folks blurt out spoilers. I almost wrote an angry letter to Rosie O’Donnell about blowing the ending of Fight Club ON PURPOSE even though it happened a decade before I found out. That is THE biggest wrongdoing in my book in terms of movie etiquette.