Every time I realize I’ve started to write a new book I feel like a grown up watching a little kid pretending to be a movie star. I start typing feverishly and then I stop and remind myself that only real writers write books and that I’m a very silly person in pajamas, who, after several hours at the computer, finds herself laying on the floor singing to the dog and then staring at the ceiling. There’s not so much as an ounce of pain involved. There should be pain. Real pain. Real writers smoke, they drink black coffee, they hang out with other depressed writers and they have jobs. They have apartments in the city, they have writing groups and bar hang outs and they can communicate with their subconscious. They have a million and one things to distract themselves from the loneliness and the suffering. All I have is Guitar Hero.
Archives for December 2007
I saw Juno last night and I’m willing to go out on a limb and predict that it will win most adorable pair of jeans of all times in any movie ever filmed anywhere on the face of the earth. There’s more. The main character, Juno, is so cute and such a good role model for teens (aside from the whole pregnancy thing) that I almost wished I could go back in time and be her and be smart enough to know the difference between what is good and what is truly, truly dumb. How many sixteen year olds know that, but I digress.
The movie is about a really pretty, edgy, articulate teenage girl who could, with the right haircut, pass for a really pretty, edgy articulate teenage boy. Amazingly, the pretty, irresistibly androgynous teenager gets pregnant by an awkward, tongue tied, soft spoken kid in painfully yellow shorts. I know, it seems unlikely, and yet, the hip little anti-hipster actually talked him into getting intimate.
Because our smart little heroine knows she’s not mature enough to care for her child—right there you have to hand it to her– she goes ahead and finds a couple, in the local penny saver, who wants to adopt a baby. The wife is Jennifer Garner who, in my opinion, makes the best sad faces of any actress in the movies today, aside from Kate Winslet and Toni Collette. Jen, who has an entirely different name in the movie, unfortunately one I can’t recall, is desperate to be a mother. I felt really sorry for her. You will too.
Anyway, a bunch of stuff happens and then just when you think Juno is about to make another huge mistake, she does something so grown up, I started crying out loud in the theater. I had to actually blow my nose in my pretzel napkin, and I never blow my nose in public. It was that awesome. It just killed me that a little kid like that could see right from wrong so clearly after screwing up on every other possible level.
If nothing else you will come away wishing you dressed more like a little boy when you were a teenager and loving women (and girls) for being so cool with each other- especially when one of them is on the verge of becoming a mother.
I think I might go see it again just to see if I can cry that loud again. You should have heard me, but I have to say, the movie isn’t really that sad at all. I’m pretty sure it was partially hormonal on my part.
Still, go see it, and tell me what you think.
I wish I knew how to scan things and get them on my blog. I would do it all the time instead of telling snoring stories. As soon as Jesse wakes up, I’ll try to get him to help me because I want to show you the cover of the Russian version of “She’s Got Issues.”
It was so exciting to see my book again, in a whole new language, despite the fact that my name in Russian is either Cmepahu Aeccuhz or Kehckue Npuuyqbl. I can’t tell which word is supposed to be the title and which is supposed to be my name. If you speak Russian, forgive me for choosing random letters to replace the ones I either couldn’t read or had never seen before. They went with a really quirky typeface and apparently they totally messed up the alphabet.
Still, there it is.
Actually, this is sort of funny. Last night Dan woke me up because I was snoring so loud he couldn’t hear the TV. I realize this is more gross than funny. Fortunately, I have an explanation for my behavior. I was drugged. Not in a partying sort of way, in an over the counter cold medicine way. Now that I know how badly a person comes off while medicated and sleeping, I would recommend letting your cold symptoms subside on their own, particularly if you’re sleeping with someone you don’t know very well. I’ve known Dan since 1978 but I still feel it was too soon.
I was trying to figure out why I don’t blog as often as I used to. It’s because nothing funny ever happens to me anymore. I don’t know why.
Yesterday morning when I was walking Mikki in the woods, she found a dead deer and started eating it. I can’t believe I just wrote that, but it’s true. I screamed at her and begged her to walk away from it, but she just looked up at me with blood dripping out of her mouth, and what appeared to be a dog grin.
We drove home in silence. I refused to touch her for the rest of the day and called the vet to make an appointment to have her teeth brushed. They can’t take her until tomorrow.
Everyone in the house is no longer talking to her. My daughter refuses to sit on any furniture. Dinner was ridiculous. I had to serve everyone standing or sitting in high places.
“Did the dog sit here?”
“She has a name, you know.”
“I know. Did she sit here? I need to know.”
“No, she did not sit there.”
“Did she sniff over here.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Not good enough. I’ll sit on the kitchen counter.”
My son sat on the counter too. I would have sat up there with him but I was determined to take the dog’s side despite the fact that I will never kiss her on the lips again for the rest of her life.
“Can we give her to Aunt Robin?” my daughter asked.
“Remember when she was a puppy and she ate doody? We still loved her,” I protested.
“We should have given her to Aunt Robin then,” my daughter answered.
“What if she has rabies?”
“She had a shot for that.”
“What if there’s a tiny bit of deer meat still in her teeth.”
“Oh my God! I just saw a piece! I swear!”
That was me talking. I actually saw something red in her mouth. I don’t know what to do. She sleeps on our bed. She licks my face goodnight. But now it’s like I don’t even know her anymore. The doody was one thing, but a dead deer is just too much. I want to forgive and forget but I keep picturing her doing it. I just can’t get it out of my head. If only I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I could have convinced myself it wasn’t true and we could have gone back to the way we were. But it’s all over now. It’ll never be the same.
Since Hanukkah is tomorrow night and then for like a hundred more days, I can’t blog. I realize this is the worst excuse I’ve come up with so far but I can’t think of anything else.