When I found out I was being given the opportunity to guest blog while Kim was on her honeymoon, I was excited. Knowing the subject was love made me ecstatic. But when I sat down to write it (this is my 3rd try) I could not figure out what I wanted to write about.
So, I decided to tell you all a story about a boy and a girl. It all started on a football field one chilly fall afternoon – truth be told, it was probably actually the 11:00 a.m. hour, but afternoon sounds more poetic, don’t you think? – in 2006. Our director called the marching band to a particular set of steps that needed some serious work. The boy in front of me was an upperclassman and I a lowly sophomore. I knew better than to think anything could ever happen between us, but I was thankful for the eye candy at practice nonetheless.
This particular day, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped as clouds rolled in. But Mr. Cute Upperclassman was in typical high school male attire: gym shorts and a t-shirt. In a move made up of equal parts bravery and humor, I offered him my jacket – sure to be a slim fit on him. Much to my surprise, he took it. Was it a little snug? Yes. Did he look marginally emo? Absolutely, but he also looked completely adorable.
That was how it started. Marching band season gave way to jazz band season and I had formed a friendship with that cute upperclassman whose name had become a fairly regular part of my vocabulary – Andrew. Early morning jazz band became something I looked forward to more than the usual good music anticipation. I was seated (stood, really, which is how we do in the trumpet section) right next to him. Taken aback, but immensely pleased, we flirted. Oh, did we flirt. Naturally, I was on Cloud 9. When pep band opportunities came up, I always managed to make sure I was sitting next to him.
It was official. I was crushing. Crushing hard. To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to ask – but I invited him to the winter choir concert – as friends, of course. That night, we held hands. As a sophomore, this was ecstasy and scandal. It took a couple weeks and some prodding via one of my good guy friends, but something blossomed. The rest, as they say and cliché, is history.
Almost 4 years later, I am still with that cute, totally out of my league upperclassman. Sure, we’ve had our bumps and bruises, our bad days, our close calls, and even a painful, if brief, break. But the thing about love that astounds me most is that if it is strong enough between two people, you will always come back together.
I could tell you not to pine after someone, not to over analyze or lose sleep or look at them sideways to see if they’re looking at you. I could tell you not to take a chance in getting to know them, or jumping in not knowing if the feelings will be returned. I could say don’t waste your time crushing, don’t give into your heart. I could sit here and tell you not to gush and have puppy love, not to ever fight, or even risk it all by really letting your guard down, but if I told you any of that, it would be doing you an injustice. Because that’s all a part of the game, and all of it, even the hard stuff, is so worth it when you find someone who becomes not only your best friend, but the person you hold dearest in your heart.
Love is this amazing, ever-changing thing that is absolutely worth the work you have to put into it. And make no mistake, there is work required. But when you can open yourself up, and share with another person everything you are – and they do the same with you, and there’s just that connection. That warmth, that spark, that….indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. That, my friends, is love – and what they say is true. It is worth everything.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Thoughts on Assassination of a High School President
(Russian posters are so much cooler)-Bobby Funke (pronounced either Funk by himself or Funky by everyone else, at one point he corrects a guy on the pronunciation, and the guy just says 'No it isn't'. And that was that) is an ambitious wannabe journalist, with dreams of getting into a prestigious journalism program, despite having never finished an article for his paper. Editor-in-chief Clara (Melonie Diaz, who keeps popping up as second banana in these quasi-independent comedies, and frankly deserves a vehicle) gives him an assignement: an article on Paul Moore, student body president (as opposed to class president, which means exactly jack shit). After it is revealed that Paul apparently stole the SATs, Bobby finds himself in the noir his inner monolgue would suggest.
-It's like Brick with Rushmore and some Chinatown, if we must play that game.
-Mischa Barton is surprisingly tolerable as femme fatale Francesca, former girlfriend of Paul, love interest of Bobby (oh, yawn), and step-sister of new SBP Marlon Piazza, who Bobby keeps trying to talk to, only to be rebuffed by him and his little posse. Somewhat captivating, sometimes stilted, but overall, not bad at all.
-Reece Thompsan is convincing as the nerd with delusions of grandeur, making some of the contrived, hardboiled analogies work. He doesn't get beat up nearly enough, though.
-Like I said, Melonie Diaz is the unsung hero of many an indie. Zoe Kravitz gets in a decent turn in one scene, as the secret girlfriend of Paul, from a *horror!* public school. Kathryn Morris, who's on some show my mom digs, is kind of brilliant as a spacey school nurse.
-And, of course, Bruce Willis. The movie's fine until he shows up. Then it reaches a scale of awesome not seen since, I don't know, the moon landing. Or whatever. As the Desert Storm-veteran Principal Kirkpatrick, who will absolutely not tolerate any gum-related activities, guys, he is so bloody intense it's not even funny. Except it is. Wait.
-The plot could use some work. They take characters set up as Very Important, then drop them somewhere else so they can silently be a plot device, some of the dialogue is painful, some of the performances ridiculous. But most of the acting it spot-on brilliant, especially from bit players, and for the most part, the script will soldier on, and even if it's not the next great high school comedy, it gets the job done.
-Right. I love it when people call other people vaginas. Cutting the bullshit, slang, and innuendo, and you'll know they're serious. You must, indeed, be a vagina.
Here's Something That Will Make You Want to Dance!
Well, apparently the folks at the CSN stores really like my readers. They like you so much, in fact, that they want me to give one of you another gift certificate. This time they want me to give someone reading this blog a $55 gift certificate to use at any one of their stores. That ought to make you feel like dancing!