Last night I supervised the movie Mama. I was actually surprised that it was being shown at work considering that it’s a horror film. Nevertheless, it was shown and I watched it.
Mama is the story of two young girls who are abandoned in a dilapidated building in the middle of the woods and when they were discovered again after several years, they are sent to their uncle’s house to start a new life. But what was the story behind their odd behavior? And were they really alone in that old building that everybody has long forgotten about?
Mama is the kind of story that wants to follow in the footsteps of The Ring (especially) and The Grudge but it was the kind of movie that fell short to live among movies such as Darkness Falls and Paranormal Activity. The director used scare tactics that have been overused and predictable. Throughout the movie, I expected the nightmares and terror to build, both physically and psychologically, but the expectation prematurely imploded with the ending being sub par and unsatisfactory.
If there was any positive to this movie, I would say that it was made because the man who played Jaime Lannister in Game of Thrones was the main character who took his nieces after they had been found. But even with that incentive, I wouldn’t recommend watching it. I certainly wouldn’t watch it again. But that’s just me.
Every now and then, there comes a point in a person’s life when going to sleep right away is hard to come by. When those kinds of nights hit me, I sometimes listen to music in order for me to relax and drift off to sleep. Several years ago, when I was still in high school, I had one of these nights where I needed to pull out my walkman (this was back before iPods were the mainstream).
On this particular night, I heard what sounded like my mom calling my name. Thinking she caught me awake, I quickly put my walkman between the covers and pretended to go to sleep. Several minutes went by, but nobody came into my room.
“I must have been hearing things,” I thought, pulling my walkman out again and pressing play.
Several minutes later, I heard my name being called again.
“Alright, that’s it,” I thought. “I’m putting my walkman away.”
I turned over to my side to put my walkman on my nightstand. But as I turned onto my side, I came face to face with the profile of a ghostly woman. Her hair was done up like in the 1800′s or early 1900′s style, her dress flowing down behind her, the dress’s collar up around her neck. She would’ve been beautiful, except for the fact that she was ghostly white and I could see right through her.
As soon as I saw her, she immediately started walking, went through my end table and wall lamp, disappearing into the wall. I quickly threw my walkman onto the end table and threw my blankets over my head.
I never saw the lady again, but neither could I figure out who she was. Our house was built in 1958 with my family being only the second people to own the place. Maybe she lived in the area and her house got destroyed. Perhaps she was one of the millions who traveled past the area on the way out west. Maybe she was attached to one of the many antiques that we have in the house. Or maybe she was just a lonely soul following me home, wishing for someone to know she made a mark on this earth…
When I was about 16, my parents decided to renovate the entire main bathroom. During this time, we were to shower and such down in the guest room. One particular night, I dried my hair after taking a shower (as many of us do). When I was done, I turned the dryer off, placed it on the side of the counter next to the sink and left, leaving it plugged into the wall and went to bed.
Later that night, I was awoken to the sound of the dryer going off. Thinking it was four a.m. when my dad usually got up to get ready for work, I immediately went back to sleep. 5 minutes later, I was once again woken by the ongoing sound of the dryer.
“Surely it doesn’t take him *that* long to dry his hair?” I thought with annoyance. I rolled over onto my side, the glow of my light pulsating in my eyes. It was 10:30. Confused, I got up and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, but the lights were off. The dryer was running all by itself.
Terrified, I slowly reached in through the crack of the door, switched the dryer off, and snatched my hand back, afraid that whatever turned it on was going to reach out and grab me. I walked into the family room.
“Didn’t you hear the dryer going by itself just now?” I asked my mom, who was watching the television.
“No,” she said. “Maybe you didn’t turn it off all the way.”
“I turned it off all the way. It wasn’t on when I went to bed.”
My mom shrugged. I was sure that she wasn’t believing a word I said. “I don’t know then.”
I went back to bed, terrified I might hear the dryer go off on its own accord for the second time. I never heard it turn itself on again, but neither did I leave it in again for a pair of pale white hands to dry ghostly hair.
There are certain times in life when a person has to make a decision that will change her life forever. The decision may be deemed unfavorable in the eyes of others, but if it’s a choice that is healthy for her, then she will make that choice regardless of popular opinion.
Today marks 1.5 years since the man I was seeing broke up with me, 1.5 years since I made the conscious decision to remain single forever. It’s painful, conflicting, beautiful, singular. I wish others could see it the way I do, understand how my decisions are best suited for me as an individual rather than trying to fit in with societal expectations and beliefs. If you don’t like it, don’t adopt it. The shoe that fits me might be too big or too small for you’re life. Live your life how you want to, let me live my life for my own sake.
Beautiful. Singular. Mine.
I haven’t been blogging recently. Not because I want to, but because of the combination of recent circumstances and my inability to think of anything creative to say. I’ve had several ideas, of course, but none of them seemed to coalesce into something meaningful for a blog post. At least, in my opinion.
I could talk about dinner dates with men and my coming awareness of what my expectations are when such things occur. I could talk about graduation and my inner fear of what comes after. Work, religion, writing, movies, becoming a year older. I could talk about them all and yet all seem terribly irrelevant to the current moment. Just when I start to write about something, the whole idea seems pointless.
Maybe I’m in a writing moot. That doesn’t seem surprising, as I haven’t been writing at large for a long time. But maybe I’ll start again, even if I have to force myself to get started again. They say that something in motion stays in motion and something at rest tends to stay at rest. Getting myself moving in the writing world is hard because I’ve been at rest for way too long. But once I get into motion, I’ll stay in motion.
Until then, what should I write about?
Humidity screws everything up.
It makes everything hot and stuffy and hard to breathe, but as soon as you pull your sweater off to be more comfortable, you realize it’s not as warm as you thought it’d be. And thus this is the painful choice, as Weather shamelessly laughs in your face:
Do you want to be cold or should you suck it up and wear your sweater and feel like you just acquired asthma?
When I’m on a date, one of my biggest pet peeves is when my significant other is texting on the phone the whole time.
Imagine, if you will, having a romantic dinner date. The man is keeping you enthralled with lively conversation and a witty compliments that not only flatters you, but keeps you interested in the conversation. You want to know more about him and hope he’ll ask you on a second date when he takes you home in his newly bought sports car.
But then, just when he’s about to put the icing on the cake, his ex-girlfriend comes over, slides into the booth next to him, and any chance you had with him evaporates instantly as he turns his attention onto her as they reminisce about good times and flirt with each other in a way that makes you feel embarrassed to have witnessed in such a public manner. He doesn’t even care that he’s supposed to be on a date with you, trying to prove that he is worthy of your attentions. In fact, you’re a mere annoyance, if he even remembers that you’re sitting there to bear witness to his shameless womanizing and open cheating (even if it’s just one date).
You wouldn’t put up with that if that were to happen to you in real life, would you? And yet, we put up with our significant others texting while we go out on dates for some much needed one on one time. To text during that time period suggests to the other person that you’re not really having a connection with the person you’re with. In fact, you’re suggesting that the conversation you’re having with the other person over this little digital device is much more important than having a meaningful, real time conversation with the person sitting right next to you. The only message you’re conveying is the one that says, “You’re a waste of time, you mean nothing to me. I’d rather have a digital conversation with this person who obviously has something more interesting to say than what you’re saying or doing right now.” It’s demeaning and makes the other person feel left out and demoralized.
About a year and a half ago, I was on a double date. My date and I held the same belief that one should not be on the phone while on date and were both equally miffed when the other couple felt the compulsive need to reach for their cell phones every couple of minutes in order to text the person who’d just communicated with them. Whatever it was they were saying was clearly more important than having dinner and talking to the people who sat directly in front of them.
This pet peeve can also be extended to when I’m hanging out with friends for the day or evening for much of the same reasons. If you make plans with someone only to be constantly texting with other friends, then clearly you have no interest in developing a real, meaningful friendship (or relationship) with the person you’re with. You’re only telling the other person that the friendship means nothing and you’re motives are shallow.
There are times when we need our cell phones. A family member’s having surgery, you got separated with you friends at the mall or in some big city, someone’s just passed away, some kind of emergency that requires you to check your phone. These types of things are excusable and even understandable. However, texting another friend to tell them that you and your friend just pulled into the parking spot at Macy’s is no excuse to divert your attention from the person you’re with. It’s rude and annoying.
Maybe times have changed, but I still find it classy for someone to give me their full attention to me and the activities we’re taking part in. And yes, if I’m on a date, my first impression of the man is significantly deduced if he’s on the phone regardless of it’s a phone call or a text.
What do you think about cell phones on dates (or anything else)?