can you be a bride without a tiara?

I hate coming up with subjects for blog posts. Why is the subject the first thing you write? I don't know what the subject is until I'm done writing, for the most part. So, just a warning, there may be a lot of blank subject lines in this blog.
Morning. Coffee. It's so hot outside that when I woke up, I was already sweating. Both H. and I slept on top of the covers last night. Or, well, he slept and I watched him. He has a great sleeping face, and makes the most contented noises... he doesn't breathe when sleeping, he sighs. It's very sweet. Anyways, so hot outside that I don't want to leave the house, and I have many excuses not to: homework, transportation, temperature. Yet another inside day for me.
Last night, when I was trying to fall asleep, I had an idea for a book. No, not a book... yes, a book... I had an idea that COULD turn into a book, but I'm scared to start writing a whole book, so I want to start with a short story. I have an idea. I wrote the first few paragraphs in my head as I was falling asleep. I think it could be really good. But I'm not going to write the idea here, because I think y'all will steal it :) No, I'm not writing it here because I think if I let it out in any form other than the story, I won't write the story.
Opened up TM music video I've been working on for the past few months, and remembered that the last time I worked on it, I deleted all the images in the 2nd verse. So now I have work to do on that as well. I've been working on this thing, off and on, since February. Now it's at the point where I just want it to be DONE, you know? But I also don't want it to be a piece of shit. And I've watched it so many times now, I can't tell if it's a piece of shit or not, you know? I've shown it to a bunch of people, no-one's said it's bad, but then again...
H. and I went out with D. and A. last night, and as usual I drank too much, and I think I said some stupid shit. H. assured me I didn't, but I always feel like I do. Like I blurt out inappropriate things. Like my comment about weddings. It wasn't a reflection on D., I didn't mean it that way, it was like she said... for some reason, if it's for a wedding, it costs more. It makes me not want to get married again, but at the same time, I can't get rid of the idea that I'm not "acceptable" as a married woman unless H. and I have a big, ostentatious, overly-expensive wedding. Unless I wear a big dress and a tiara, and he wears a tux, and the bridesmaids all wear shiny dresses, and everyone drunkenly dances to "Can't Touch This" late into the night. Truth is, deep down, I don't really care if we do it or not. H. and I are really happy together, we have a really strong relationship and we communicate well and we're both respectful. There are no "red flags" in our relationship, and I think it's safe to say that were each other's best friend. But I can't get over this idea - in fact, have cried myself to sleep over this idea - that our marriage "doesn't count" because it wasn't a big affair, or because we didn't go through the "proper procedure" to reach the aisle. What do I mean by that? We were never engaged. I was never a fiancee. I went straight from girlfriend to wife, with no time to pick a china pattern. I wore regular clothes to the wedding (no big white dress for me!), didn't get my hair done... the only thing I did differently was to wear a bit more eyeliner than usual. What did it matter? We didn't have a photographer anyways.
I guess it's this idea that the wedding is supposed to make all the dreams come true... that it's supposed to be a reflection of your personality, and a sign of how much you love each other. The bigger the wedding, the more love. Or something. Or is it about being princess for a day? I've never been a princess to begin with. I'm not that kind of girl, you know? I've never been the pretty one in the group, I've never been the one who gets advantages because of the way she looks, I've never been the one guys approach and say "you're hot." No, I'm the one guys come up to and say "tell your friend I think she's beautiful." Yes, this has actually happened. More than once.
What kind of dream is the wedding supposed to make come true, though? I mean, when I run down the list of things I want out of life, "princess for a day" isn't on it. Neither is "family reunion." My list of life goals looks something like this:
* Find a good partner (someone you love, who loves you, who wants the same things out of life as you)
* Find a good job (one that can accomodate the lifestyle you want)
* Buy a house
* Have some kids and raise them to be good people
* Publish a book
* Make a movie

...and that's about it. If I can do (most of) these things in my lifetime, I'll die happy. So far, I've done the first one.
Getting back on topic: if a wedding is supposed to be a sign of how much you love each other (which, for some people, like S. and T., I think it is... they're really putting themselves into it...), and if H. and I didn't put much effort into our wedding, does that mean we don't love each other as much as other couples do? I say no, but I get the impression that other people don't think the same way.
Both my parents have been married twice. My dad is divorced twice, and my mom really SHOULD be divorced twice at this point. My parents, honestly? They should have never gotten married in the first place. I think both of them regret it, and I've grown up feeling like I'm the product of bad decision-making more than a product of love. I mean, they can't even be in the same room together, let alone have a conversation. So I don't put a lot of faith in marriage to begin with. H's parents, on the other hand, have been together almost 40 years, raised 2 kids, built a house from the ground up. They're partners, you know? And they never got married.
I should maybe look at it this way: H. and I had two choices. We could get married, or he could go back to Sweden. If he'd gone back to Sweden, true, we could've stayed together. But I've done that "long distance" thing before, and I knew that, more likely than not, we would have broken up. And I couldn't imagine my life without H. We didn't necessarily want to get married, but we did it so that we could stay together. I can't really think of a bigger expression of love than that.
Yet the doubts (and the voices) still linger... the eyes are silently judging me, saying I'm not a proper bride and, by extension, not a proper WOMAN because H. and I didn't do it up right. Because I didn't wear a tiara, and I don't have any diamonds on my finger. It sounds so silly when I write it out like that, but these thoughts really do go through my head. Why do I care so much what other people think? I shouldn't, but for some reason, I do.

Maybe I should do this every morning, while I have the time? Sit here with my morning coffee, pour out all the things still in my head from last night. Hmmm.
Well, here's how my day went yesterday: I sat in front of the computer from 8am to about 11:30. In the background were the ever-present court shows, which, truth be told, keep me sane. They're what I watch instead of soap operas, because they're just as dramatic but without all the fuss of "investing in characters." You get a new story every 15 minutes or so. And you learn a bit about American law. I remember in Austria they had court shows as well, but the shows were fake. They were actually scripted, with actors and all that. FAKE court shows. It was strange. But they had just as many fake, badly-acted, badly-written court shows as we have "reality-based" ones. Anyways.
Then I decided I didn't want to go to film class if I didn't have to. See, here's the problem with being a film studies minor. Film classes are always 3 hours long, which means a 1-hour lecture followed by a 2-hour film. I have no problem with the lecture portion of the class. That's where the valuable info is, you know? But I hate sitting in a stuffy, darkened classroom, surrounded by people's breathing and sniffling and texting and (lately) Cantonese whispers... nothing against the guys I sit next to, but whispering on it's own is distracting, and it's even more distracting when it's in another language, because then the brain listens closer because it's trying to translate. I can't do it. I can't sit in that classroom for 3 hours a day.
And on top of that, my prof doesn't lecture about the films at all. He pretty much just talks about himself for an hour, then hits "play." He doesn't take attendance, and our marks are based solely on our written work and our "original perceptions" of the films we watch in class. In other words, there's no reason to GO to class. As long as the films are watched and the writing is done, there's no need to be there.
So I went to the video store, rented all the films I could find on the course list, and came home. Found out the rest of the films are in the school library, so really, I only have to go to class on the last day to hand in my work. One could almost say I'm ahead of the class right now. So why do I still feel guilty for not going? Because I'm not going today, either. Blah.
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Cut to 11:51 pm, the next day
I didn't go to class yesterday, but I did watch the film: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring. Very good film, I must say. Very Buddhist film, with the circular narrative, the focus on nature and impermanence and man's ability to be distracted by desire. Very good film.
Today was The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, another amazing film. Like seriously, this film is now in my Top 20, along with Wings of Desire (another film we watched in class!).
So here's my problem. Obviously, prof. and I have similar tastes in film. I've always felt that he and I could be friends if circumstances were different, not to mention his tendency to stare at me in class coupled with my tendency to say random things (like when he asked for a show of hands as to how many people had seen Wings of Desire, I was the only one to raise a hand, and said (loudly) "am I REALLY the ONLY ONE?". He then went on to say the film was one of his favourites, and he could teach an entire course on that one film alone...) I would say we were kindred spirits, and if the power dynamic were different (IE if he wasn't charged with grading my papers) we could be friends, eating expensive Italian meals with our spouses, then watching foriegn films and drinking red wine late into the evening. Especially in the summer. But alas, things don't work out that way, and I still have a term paper due on Wednesday.
My topic, I think, is going to be based on a quote from an essay by Tom Wolfe along the lines of "movies are the new books". I don't have the proper quote in front of me. Considering the class (a film class offered through the writing department) and the prof (a film enthusiast who mostly works in print), I think the topic is fitting. Now I just have to decide what stance to take. I don't know if I agree or disagree with Wolfe's statement. Is the print medium completely outdated, or is there still a place for books in our computer-dominated culture?
That's all for today (and yesterday....)

Good morning

Monday morning, 8:23 am when I start writing. I'm awake, but only barely, and since getting out of bed have been putting on more and more clothes in an attempt to stay warm. Because what I really want to do is go back to sleep.
There's no food in the house, no bread, no breakfast-appropriate meal items, unless I were the type to eat "just eggs", which I'm not. In high school, eggs were a major pet peeve. I called them "chicken abortions", knowing full well that's not really what eggs are. I just liked saying "abortion" for the shock value. 10 years later, I've grown up a lot, and gotten over (most of) my egg disgust, but I'm still not the type to wake up in the morning and be like "mmmmmm.... time for eggs", you know?
So. Liquid breakfast. Coffee with the last dregs of the milk. 4 1/2 hours till class. 12 1/2 hours till I'm home again. But it's not that bad.
Saturday night was my birthday party, and in the hours leading up to the event, I got really nervous. Both Henrik and I were worried that, because of my fragility over the past few weeks, I might.... I don't know. Have a panic attack or something. Have a crying fit in the bathroom. I don't know. First I worried no-one would show up, like maybe they all had the day wrong. Then I worried that I had the date wrong. Then I worried that we'd get there late and forfeit our reservation. Well, none of these things happened. There were actually MORE people there than I anticipated, and even though only a few (three) of us were drinking, and only a few (three) of us continued the party after dinner, I had a great time. Being purposely vague because I don't want to talk about people who don't want to be talked about.
...she says in one breath, and in the next she starts to talk about them. :)
An interesting question was raised over dinner on Saturday. See, half the people at the table were over 30, while the other half were sneaking up on it pretty fast. I don't remember how it came up, but someone asked "what did you want to do before you were 30?" and the question went around the table. One person said they'd wanted to go back to school, and they'd done that, so they were happy. I said I wanted to own a house by the time I hit the big 3-0, and I realized it probably wasn't going to happen. Did this mean I was less successful than I'd expected to be?
Well... yes and no. In my teens, any ideas I had about success were related to "coolness", not to money. Getting married, having kids, owning a house... these weren't things I considered important. I just wanted a cool job and lots of money. Once I had that, I could change my goals.
Well, of course, priorities change fast when you get out into the real world. I found the cool, high-paying job, and I didn't like it. I met a guy who was working on a Masters degree, and all his friends were working on high-level degrees too. ALL his friends had some sort of extra education. Except me.
It didn't bother him at all, because I think deep down, if we'd stayed together, he'd expected me to be a stay-at-home mom like his own, perfecting the art of dishwashing, making hot lunches for the kids. But it really bothered me, because I couldn't see myself as equal to him or his friends without an education. Which is stupid, really, isn't it? Education isn't a gauge of intelligence. You can be brilliant with a 5th grade education, and you can be a moron with a PhD. But as far as class structure goes.... in this day and age, to get ahead in life, it seems like having a degree is almost a requirement. Why? I don't know. What is a degree supposed to prove? What does it prove? These friends of his, with their doctorates and whatnot... they might have lots of letters after their names, but they didn't know much about "real life", as my mom would say.
I don't know how much I'm learning in university. I went through my academic summary today, and it seems like the only thing I've really learned how to do is get better grades. My first year at UVIC, I got all B's. Second year, B+, A-. Third year, A-, A. This year, all A. All I've done is adapt my style to fit the school's criteria. Will this help me get a job? Probably not. Will it make me a better person? Definitely not.
Do I need those letters after my name in order to reach my goals? Yes. Yes I do. I'm not saying everybody does, because I know lots of people who get along fine without a degree. But for me, if I want a house, a new car, kids, vacations... a "normal" life, the life I wanted when I was a kid and my mom worked at Kmart... then yes, I do need those letters. But why? Because society says so? Because there's too much information in the world today, and public schools don't have time to teach kids everything? It used to be a degree would set you apart from the others. Now, the degree makes you blend in. Blah.
But I digress. The question was "what did you want to do by the time you were 30?" Seeing as how I'm 28 now, I'm in the strange position of still *possibly* being able to achieve my goals, and also seeing how far away they truly are. What I really want before I'm 30? I want to be pregnant. I want to have a kid. But I know I can't do that, at the very least, until I'm done school. And then I have to think about maternity leave. And living arrangements. We can't have a baby in this apartment, our neighbours would complain about the noise. We can't afford a house. Do we stay here or go to Sweden? If we go to Sweden, do I qualify for maternity leave? How does it all work? And can I get it all sorted in 24 months, in addition to getting pregnant, taking the proper vitamins, reading all the books, etc etc... it's probably not going to happen.
When I was 18, all I wanted by the time I was 30 was... well, I'd wanted to make a name for myself. I'd wanted to meet important people, make them like me, and become important myself. But the word "important" is a bit vague, a bit abstract, a bit arbitrary. Who would decide if I was important or not, you know? It was an unattainable goal because it wasn't concrete. So I have to give up on it. Being important doesn't matter as much, these days, as being comfortable. And healthy.

Malaise

What day of the week is it? Thursday? It's Thursday, right?
Henrik nods and says mmmhhhmm, so I guess that means yes. The Canucks are playing, which also lends credibility to the idea that it is, in fact, Thursday. So we're going to say it's Thursday, even if it actually isn't... oh, and Lost was on last night, which means yesterday was Wednesday. Okay. I truly believe it's Thursday now.
See, I'm having trouble keeping the days straight, because I've barely left the house in a week. This is what happens when I have "time off": I stay indoors, sometimes not even getting dressed (like today, I'm still in pj's (although a different pair than the ones I wore to bed last night... "day pj's", if you will...) and have no plans to leave. I tried convincing Henrik to check the mail for me, but no dice. So, putting the shame of being in pj's at 5pm aside, I went and checked the mail. And of course, there wasn't anything in our box.
Yesterday I went out for a little while... I drove Henrik to work, and we stopped at Starbucks for cappucinos. Then I came home, got (properly) dressed, did my hair, etc etc. Then I went up to the Uni for a minute, got a new sticker for my student card. Then... well, then I went home. I had so many plans for my "big day out", too. I was going to buy some new lipstick (a nice dark pink, like Blair Waldorf...), maybe a new brow liner, maybe get my hair done, and most likely hit the fabric store. But after going to school, I got... I don't know. Not anxious, necessarily, but... just... not in the mood. I didn't want to do anything except go home. I thought "what's the point of buying makeup when you never leave the house?" "what's the point of looking at things in a store when you can look at them online?" and so on.
Then on the radio they were talking about the big cruise ships at Ogden Point, and I thought, "okay. Let's go see the ships." Not that this is anything I'm really interested in... I live close to Ogden Point, I see cruise ships all the time. It's just boats. But hey, the biggest ships EVER to Ogden Point? That's kind of exciting. So I drove towards the ocean. But then, a few blocks from my house, I got... I don't want to say nervous, but I didn't want to go anymore. I worried about traffic along Dallas Road. I worried about hitting one of those horse-drawn carriages. I worried about thousands of Americans milling about. So, at the very last second, I turned and headed home instead.
Then when I got home, I had nothing to do. This past week, I've spent more and more time each day reading. Just reading. Mostly blogs, the type that get updated every few minutes with inane stories. And every hour I spent reading these blogs was an hour of productive time that I lost. And I KNEW that, but I kept reading, kept hitting "refresh", hoping against hope that some story would spark my creativity and I'd start writing. Needless to say, that didn't happen. I did see lots of pictures of Rihanna in a black suit, though.
I'm just... blah. My mom once told me that every day, you should do something, at least ONE THING that makes you feel like you've accomplished something. Every day, you should have some sort of project. Even if it's something small like doing laundry or cooking dinner, every day you should be able to say you DID something. Today? I feel like I've done nothing. I've done stuff: I've cleaned, I've done laundry, I've looked online for a new apartment (Henrik got a raise! woohoo!). But it still feels like even though I've done stuff, I haven't ACCOMPLISHED anything.
It's like working out. I work out 3 or 4 times a week, either at the gym or at home. I've been doing this for a few months now. But... well... it seems no matter how hard I work, no matter how many calories I burn, I never see results. I measured myself the other day, and I'm the exact same size I was a year ago. On the one hand, I'm glad I haven't gotten bigger, considering I spent the winter in a semi-vegetative state. But on the other, I haven't lost any bulk either. I'm dieting now as well, and I've been doing that for about two weeks... and yeah, you guessed it, no results from that either. I don't understand it. It seems the only way I ever lose weight is through illness. The last time I lost a significant amount of weight, I had a kidney removed. The time before that, I caught a horrible horrible flu. In between, I ate right, went to the gym, counted calories, tried to take care of myself. But no matter what I did, the most I could hope for was to maintain. I just can't seem to lose weight without illness or major surgery.
Maybe that's what this blog should be about. Maybe if I force myself to write about it, it'll actually start happening.
No... everyone and their pet has a weight loss blog. And anyways, mine would be a total disappointment.
I've been getting more and more depressed these days, and when I get depressed, I always focus on things like weight. I, personally, don't mind my body. And neither does Henrik. I can buy (or make) nice clothes, I can do my hair, etc. I can be pretty when I want to be. But when I get depressed, I worry about what OTHER people think of me. My depression always comes back to this feeling that I'm being judged, not by any one particular person, but by society as a whole. I'm too fat, I'm too old, I'm too poor, I'm not talented, no-one likes me, I'll never do anything with my life. The question "too fat for what?" or whatever never comes up... that's not the point. The point is, when I'm depressed, it's because I don't live up to some sort of self-imposed bar that I've set. Has weight ever stopped a writer from expressing themselves? No. Has age ever stopped someone from buying lipstick? Probably not. Has talent ever stopped someone from watching a ship dock? I doubt it.
So I should focus on the positive. Okay, by society's standards I'm "fat." What can I do about it? Diet and exercise. Check. What else?
Learn to sew. I'm kind of excited for tomorrow, because Butterick patterns go on sale at Fabricland, and Butterick has some AWESOME historical patterns... 50's-era retro party dresses, Victorian bustle skirts, corsets... yeah :) I'm not quite down with their "contemporary" patterns, but the historical stuff is really good, and I'm glad they've re-released some of those old patterns. Same with Simplicity, whose patterns go on sale at Fabricland NEXT week... and they have a pattern for the exact dress I want to make for Sever and Tansy's wedding. Tansy says it should be purple, so therefore it will be. To go with that Blair Waldorf lipstick I will eventually go to the store and buy.
Writing and sewing are the only things I'm really excited about these days. I love the idea of making my own clothes, wearing what I actually want to wear instead of whatever I can find in my size. I love the idea of having complete control over my own image. I have so many ideas, especially for dresses, in my head, and I want to GET THEM OUT, but I'm not skilled enough (yet) to draft my own patterns. Hopefully after I've made a few more pieces, I'll get the hang of things. So far, my only really successful (meaning wearable) pieces have been two black dresses that I made with the same pattern, but one I modified so it was a bit less "casual". I've tried making a few skirts, but none of them have really turned out. Soon, though: soon I'll be making my own clothes, my own jackets, my own... hopefully everything. Except sweaters. I'll still buy sweaters.
The worst thing about being depressed is seeing how it affects other people. Poor Henrik, every time I'm sad he thinks it's his fault and tries to make me better. He does silly little dances, or he kisses me all over my face, or he makes up a song. It's very cute, and it makes me love him a bit more every time he does it, but sometimes I just don't want to smile, you know? And then I feel bad because I know he's trying to make me smile, and then I'm letting him down, and then... the cycle continues. I know he's been through it too... I've spent the past few years, while HE was stuck in the house, trying to keep him in good spirits. Maybe on some level, he feels like he's returning the favour. Maybe that's the problem... I'm so bored these days, my boredom has turned into malaise.
Well, soon it will be done. Next week I'm back to school, and then I've got to find myself a full-time job. Once I'm working, I won't be so bored. And I'll have more money, which means I'll be able to do more stuff. Not that I WILL do more stuff... but at least the option will be there. And in the meantime, like I say, Butterick patterns go on sale tomorrow, so I'll have something to occupy my time until Monday.

Writing exercises / The Room

My goal is 750 words per day. Think I can do it? I do. 750 words isn't all that much, especially when (like me) you're reading Tom Wolfe, and it takes DAYS to finish one article. My god, that man can go on.
Anyways, 750 words a day. I'm not saying I'm going to post the products here, but then again, maybe I will. If you have any topics to write about, any writing exercises, any ideas, let me know in the comments.
...and no, I'm not counting this as part of the 750 words. I filled my quota this morning.

And also. The Room. If you haven't seen it, you MUST. They have two copies of it at Pic A Flic, and from what I read, we're very lucky to have that. Because the film is independently distributed (by Mr. Wiseau, I believe), video stores have to be "approved" before they can buy copies of the film for rental purposes.
I'm not going to explain what The Room is to you, as many people have done it better than I can:
http://www.theroommovie.com/
http://www.avclub.com/articles/the-room,25723/
http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,20246031,00.html
http://www.youtube.com/results?orig_query=the+room&search_query=the+room+tommy+wiseau&orig_query_src=4
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Room_(film)

...I just wish this film had been around when I was in film school, because everything we did wrong in those student films, they did wrong here too: plot holes, continuity errors, focus problems, scenes out of context, bad dubbing, overly dramatic lighting... this movie is BEAUTIFUL. And priceless. And best of all, it's SINCERE. Tommy Wiseau likes to say, now, that the film was intended to be a comedy. But once you see it, you'll know that's SO not true. What makes the film so priceless is the earnestness of it, the seriousness. After seeing the movie, watch the "Behind The Scenes" montage. No-one on set was laughing. Or smiling.

Maybe the best way to describe how great the film is is this conversation I had yesterday at the video store, when I rented The Room for the 2nd time:
Me: Hi *gives cashier name and phone number*
Cashier: Oh, you have a 2 dollar late charge.
Me: Right, for The Room.
Cashier: Right.
Me: And now I'm going to rent The Room again.
Cashier: Awesome.
Me: Have you seen it?
Cashier: No, but we (she points to the guy behind her) were just talking about it. It's definitely on my list.
Me: It's AMAZING. There's this one scene where 4 guys are playing football. In tuxedos. For no reason at all.
Cashier: Ohmygod. That sounds awesome.
Guy: Are you talking about The Room?
Cashier: Yeah, weren't you just saying...
Guy: How it's the best movie ever? I had a dream about it last night. William Shatner and I were acting out scenes from it.
Me: Wow.
Guy: What do you think about the tuxedo scene?
Cashier: She was just talking about that!
Guy: My theory is that it's supposed to be the wedding rehearsal...
Me: Maybe, but why would the wedding rehearsal be before the birthday party, when the birthday party is a WEEK away and the wedding is a MONTH away?
Guy: Good point. I don't know. But that's the beauty of The Room.
Me: Very true.

See this movie... not because it will make you cooler in my eyes (which it will), but because if you're a fan of movies that are so bad they're good, this movie will become your next great obsession.