my dreams remind me of an ocean

When I saw the promotional stills and posters for Snow White and the Hunstman, I was cautiously optimistic. Given the recent trend towards strong female protagonists and princesses, I thought we were bound to get an awesome retelling of the fairy tale, with a sassy Snow White who kicks major ass. Unfortunately, this is far from the case; if you’re coming to Snow White and the Huntsman looking for an strong, empowered princess, you will be sorely disappointed.

This Snow White is no Mulan, Tangled’s Rapunzel, or the Snow White on ABC’s Once Upon a Time. She spends the vast majority of the movie running away from danger and being saved by besotted male characters. There are no fewer than four males who try to make a move on her after falling for her charms, but as a member of the audience, I wasn’t sure what these charms were supposed to be. Snow fights for herself a grand total of twice, and it is not until the last twenty or so minutes that Snow White does anything remotely badass, or wears the armor she’s shown in on the posters. We get more insight into the personalities of almost every other character than we do Snow White, as her actions and dialogue aren’t at all illustrative of her as a person. Without doing anything besides being the king’s daughter and being beautiful, she is hated by the queen and put on a pedestal as tall as Mt. Everest by everyone else we meet. In short, she’s a Mary Sue of epic proportions, and kind of a feminist nightmare.

Also, to what you’re probably wondering: Kristen Stewart is definitely passable in the role, and sometimes is even quite good. Her acting is several steps above anything she did in Twilight, and only managed to distract me a few times. (Also, I didn’t even notice a single case of lip biting, which is unprecedented.) Her British accent is patchy, but never noticeably laughable. Though she often comes off one-dimensional, I think it’s mostly the fault of the movie’s writing rather than Stewart’s portrayal.

Despite how much Snow bothered me, I didn’t hate the movie. It was visually stunning, especially in the Dark Forest, and the music was great. (In particular, the song “Gone” by Ionna Gika and the way it was used gave me chills.) I also thought the narrative style was lovely, especially at the beginning. The movie was extremely faithful to the original Snow White narrative, which felt uncreative to me but will probably be a plus for others.

Also, a couple of standout actors saved the film for me. Charlize Theron, who plays Snow White’s evil stepmother, really steals the show with some incredible acting, and the effect work on her and her birds is ridiculously well-done. She is delightfully creepy, and surprisingly, we get some idea of her back story and motivations, so her degeneration is upsetting to watch.

Chris Hemsworth as the huntsman, best-known as Thor in The Avengers, also does a brilliant job. He has a good story arc, he’s written well, and Hemsworth runs with the material. Watching him act is a delight.

Overall, the movie is a mixed bag. If you’re game for a beautiful, generally well-done adaptation of Snow White, you’ll love it. However, if you’re a feminist or looking for it to bring something new to the table, I would wait for the DVD.

Overall score: 3/5 nerds.

Your eyes are brimming with life,
Your skies always blue and rarely ever cloudy.
I’m drawn to you,
Not becaue of your eyes or your sunny disposition,
But because I’m genuninely curious
How much it would take to make you like the rest of us,
How many curse words and taken-back I love you’s
It would take to break you,
To take the life from your eyes.

She looked at me with those warm brown eyes, the color of hot chocolate when I dump in five or six scoops of powder instead of two. Her lips quivered, the way they did she was cold, or in this case, lonely. They probably no longer tasted like her cinnamon lip gloss, but like vodka and menthol cigarette smoke and the saliva of another boy, and when I thought of her tasting like that, I couldn’t even look at her.

That night, I felt like destroying something beautiful. I wanted to yell at her until her mascara smeared down her cheeks; I wanted to make her feel the ice that was paralyzing my chest. Because one lapse in judgment, ten seconds, could undo months of forehead kisses and stuffed animals won at theme parks and the things done sneakily under bedsheets.

But in the end, when she started crying and my voice felt hoarse, I didn’t feel powerful. I just felt emptier than when I’d started, and like a dick to boot. I could barely hear her apologies and pleas through my pulse pounding in my ears.

Finally, I got up off of her bed and simply walked out the door. I didn’t grab my favorite sweatshirt or my Kickass DVD or even the ring with the little diamond in it that I’d saved up all summer to get her. Those things would always make me think of her anyways, and they’d probably end up in my trash can after a week or two.

We hadn’t been friends before we started dating, so I got the luxury of not even considering being friends after. She left me a couple of voicemails and text messages, but I deleted them without hearing what she had to say. Even though I was ignoring them, they stopped far before I felt they should have.

I saw her in the grocery store about two months after that night. By that point, my mind had made her into a monster, and a horrific one at that. But when I saw her, she was just wearing a hoodie and picking out breakfast cereals, and I couldn’t hate her. I just couldn’t.

When she noticed me, she gave me a small, sad smile with the left side of her lips, that seemed to say, “I’m still sorry I was a bitch and hurt you like that.” I shrugged my shoulders and gave her a little smile that I meant to say, “Hey, it happens. I’m ok.”

And then I walked towards the pop tarts, she walked towards the oatmeal, and I never saw her again.

Disclaimer: This is already published in two publications. Plagiarize it and die. (No but really, please please don’t plagiarize it.)

1. Read 100 books. That’s right. 100.
2. Review all of those books on Goodreads, except the textbooks and stuff.
3. Get a job, preferably one at home and one at school.
4. Finish Doctor Who.
5. Watch at least the first three Star Trek generations. If you finish them all, you’re a fucking badass.
6. Write, record and sell another album with Patty, probably the wizard rock one.
7. Get 400 followers on this Tumblr.
8. Get published in at least one non-college publication, preferably Hayley and Kristina’s book.
9. And while you’re at it, get published at least 3 times in college publications.
10. Maintain at least a 3.5 GPA.
11. Finish NaNoWriMo.
12. Start journaling at least once a week and keep with it. Your memory’s atrocious.
13. Start making Youtube videos, and get at least 50 subscribers.
14. Go to Leakycon.
15. Branch out and meet more friends in Boston.
16. Finish Ewoks, Homosexual Stimulation, and Captain Picard.
17. Finish a draft of The Unfortunates.
18. Become generally more secure with myself and my body.
19. Go on at least one date or something. Your love life consists of tumbleweeds blowing in the desert breeze.
20. End 2012 happier than when it started.

Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone. Stay safe and have a blast. I plan ring in the new year drinking an entire bottle of fake wine, playing Catan, and watching nerdy TV shows on Netflix with my 3 best friends, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. <3

1. Read 100 books. That’s right. 100. (This didn’t happen, but I did read 72, which is quite a few in and of itself.)
2. Go on a road trip. (Nashville!)
3. Don’t date anymore slackers/asshats. (Granted, I didn’t date anyone, but baby steps, I suppose.)
4. Get into an awesomely fantastic college that you’ll love. (Emerson?) (Got into every college I applied to, and did end up going to Emerson.)
5. Finish watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Office and Avatar: The Last Airbender. (Didn’t finish The Office, but watched Angel, How I Met Your Mother, Dollhouse, Pretty Little Liars, and some Skins and Doctor Who. Good enough, I say.)
6. Lose at least 10 pounds. (Yeah, no. That was pretty ambious.)
7. Get another piercing/tattoo. (I realized that I don’t want another piercing, and damn, tattoos are expensive.)
8. Blue hair. Definite must. (I had my blue hair for about 2 months in the summer. It was more green, but whatever. It was boss, and I miss it.)
9. Go to Leakycon.(Went, and it was absolutely amazing.)
10. Finish Argus Filks. (We pwned this CD. You can listen to it here.)
    
11. GET MY LICENSE. (Yeah, this didn’t happen either.)
    
12. Develop more of a personal style. (Still working on this.)
    
13. Finish at least a first draft of a novel. (Preferably The Unfortunates.) (Although I’ve made tremendous bounds in my writing this year, finishing a novel was not one of them.)
    
14. Win a writing contest. (Unfortunately, I didn’t really end up applying to many, so this didn’t end up happening.)
    
15. Win at least one scholarship. (Ditto.)
    
16. Start writing fan fiction again. (You can read what I’ve written so far here.)
17. Learn to play the ukulele. (After I found out about my carpal tunnel, I was too scared to try this.
18. Get 500 followers on my reblog Tumblr and 100 followers on this one.(I’m totally happy with the way this panned out.)
19. Keep in touch with my best friend Patty. (Done. :))
20. Step out of your comfort zone and meet a bunch of amazing people at college. <3 (I’ve met a couple of amazing people, but I’m still quite shy.)

Although it was kind of depressing filling this out, I’m more than happy with how this past year has gone. I’ve come a very long way, and I finished about half of these, which is better than I thought I would be able to say.

I’ll be posting my 2012 New Year’s Resolutions tomorrow once I finish writing them. Have a great start to 2012, everybody! <3

Title: Ewoks, Homosexual Stimulation, and Captain Picard
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Dollhouse
Rating: M
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Topher Brink/Andrew Wells
Summary: Topher Brink and Andrew Wells meet at Comic-Con, and sparks begin to fly. Andrew’s totally smitten, but Topher refuses to accept that he’s not straight. Will Andrew be able to get Topher to open up before they have to go back to their separate lives? Basically, if you like adorable, nerdy boy slash, this is the fic you should be reading.

Read the first chapter here! If you like it, please add it to your favorites or something, because I probably won’t post about it after this.

I like food too much to be anorexic,
And hate throwing up too much to be bulimic.
So I’ll go half of the day without eating,
Then stuff my face with Snow Caps and Doritos
And continue my toxic relationship with food.

I’ve always been a bit of a nervous flyer, the little girl who spent her whole flight chewing the cinnamon gum her mom gave her to keep her ears from popping. She would stroke my hair and put a finger to my lips when I asked her how high up we were or why our seat cushions even needed to be floatation devices.

It wasn’t that I was an irrational child. I was just aware of my abysmal luck, even at that age. I knew that if one of the flights leaving the Baltimore airport were to crash on that day, it would be mine. So I snuck a rabbit’s foot in a pair of my socks when my mom wasn’t looking, and said a few hail mary’s before take off and landing. Not because I thought they would help, but because they sure couldn’t hurt.

At twenty years old, I’m still a bit jittery getting on airplanes. I have to drink two black coffees before even thinking about boarding, and I always think about using the fake ID I never use to get one of those outrageously priced mini bottles of white wine. I try not to replay the pilot of LOST in my head over and over, and I try not to count the layers (probably just plastic, insulation, glass, and metal) between me and certain death.

But, after we’re over the Atlantic Ocean, when the black water turns into the welcoming lights of cities and town, I’m glad I got on the plane. There’s no better feeling than trying to figure out which pinprick of light belongs to his house; no better feeling than knowing he’ll be waiting in front of the baggage claim with a sign that says my name; no better feeling than being wrapped up in his arms after nothing but letters and Skype calls for four months.

He makes me feel safe, even when I’m 30,000 feet above the ground.

I always feel a little bit weird about celebrating Thanksgiving,
The day when the pilgrims and Indians became friends,
Only for the first to betray the latter.
It reminds me of throwing a party on the birthday of Benedict Arnold,
Or celebrating the day Magneto turned against Professor X.
Plus, I don’t eat turkey, so there are no turkey endorphins to make me feel better about it.

But, no matter how messed up its roots, Thanksgiving is one of the better holidays.
It’s not filled with trinkets to prove something or obligatory cards or green beers.
It’s about tasty gluttony and seeing the family that you only see a couple of times a year
And maybe doing some introspecting about what matters most in life.

I’m thankful I got to visit home for the first time in three months,
Sleep in my own bed, not write essays, and go to Taco Bell.
I’m glad that I got to run around an empty parking lot with my best friends this week,
And that college has eradicated any trace of writer’s block my body had been holding inside.

But I’m also thankful that my dad didn’t drag us to Thanksgiving mass,
And that I have my headphones to tune out my little brothers.
I’m glad that the goody two-shoes façade has worked for another day,
That there’s no way for them to see the words I think and write down,
Words like atheist and democrat and possibly bisexual.

I’m thankful for the friends and the family,
The food and the Black Friday sales,
And most of all, I’m thankful that I get to live another day in hiding.

You didn’t die, but it sure felt like you did,
When you started breaking yourself
And wearing eyeliner that looked like
It’d been put on with permanent marker.

One day at lunch, you let us peek
Into your backpack to see the bong you’d received.
And when your eyes lit up brighter than I’d ever seen them before,
I knew I’d lost you.

You had huge dreams, of falling in love
And singing punk rock to masses as fucked up as you.
You wanted to write books, travel to Spain,
Be an artist, solve mysteries like that guy from CSI.

But I saw you in Wal-Mart last week,
Your hair still straight and your spirit broken like a horse’s.
But your eyelids were getting their color
From sleepless bags, not eyeliner.

You told me you worked at a hardware store,
And you’re engaged to a boy who should definitely be a man by now.
I didn’t tell you what I was up to, how I was doing.
I didn’t want to seem like I was rubbing it in your face.

Your dreams were meant to take you higher,
Than the moon, than the ceiling, or at least your sofa.
But instead of reaching higher,
Honey, now you just get high.

NaNoWriMo background
And John Green quote on laptop
Let’s write together