I want you to want me

As I was talking to my friend this afternoon our lives and their trajectories and traverses became a bit too painful to plot and follow. He described having a rendezvous with a gorgeous man this morning... while I was buying resume paper and envelopes at Staples. As he touched this man, I was buying grapes at Sam's Club. And tonight? As he connects with beauty and sexuality and desire, I'll be working on said resumes and envelopes.

I explained my fear at not being able to get another job. "I'm a bit fearful about being wanted," or something of the sort left my lips. And my cells got a bit heavier, because I realized that that wanting pertains to every area of my life. I have noone to want me in a beauteous, sexual, or desirous way, let alone in a very practical, gainful employment kind of way.

I simply want to be wanted with the fierceness of my own wants.

Man from the Future

I took a bit of a nap this afternoon. And in doing so, I choose to believe I saw my future. I dreamed that he was there. He came in with our son and daughter and saw me sleeping. He wished he could've been ahead of our son, who was running in tearing his coat off. I roused out of the sleep-state and he held our daughter over me so that we could kiss one another hello. He took my iPod and headphones from me, taking care of me. As I woke and joined my family, we convened in the kitchen where we danced to Nikka Costa's "Till I Get to You." He and I bumped our hips-- his left, my right-- together as he kept holding our daughter on his right hip. Our son and I danced to the right of him. He was wearing a white shirt with tie. I was casual clothes fit for a nap.

It was vivid. And I believe it was a peek at the future.

I told God a few days ago that I was truly ready to find love. I've never believed that before, and I've certainly never made such an affirmative statement.

Ever since, I've been claiming these visions of the future. No mocking is necessary, my heart confirms.

Did I tell you how happy we were? The four of us? And what a good father he is? And how much we all love one another?

We were/are.

George Sodini didn't succeed

I, along with much of the nation, was disturbed by the news that 3 people were killed yesterday at a suburban Pittsburgh fitness club. A friend joked that the shooting was even further proof why one should never go to the gym-- trying to digest the illogical.

This morning as officials try to make more sense of the tragedy comes the release of his website where he chillingly revealed the fragmented darkness that led to the shooting. One thing is clear-- he was filled with hate. From women to blacks to religious figures to his entire family. It is disturbing. At the bottom of the website is his set of 'instructions' for the site, including a statement that the site should stay up forever so that he is remembered.

As I read his words I couldn't help but thing of a news report I heard in the wee hours of the morning. Supposedly Sodini fired 52 rounds of ammunition into the darkened fitness classroom. He killed 3 women and injured at least 9. I refuse to give him the credit he so craved, so desired. I'm not sorry George to tell you that you're a lousy shot. I refuse to give you the attention to wanted so crazily. I refuse. Consider me one of those 'bitches' or 'hoez' you described in your blog. You did not frighten me, and I plan on forgetting you as soon as possible so that you're sick plan for immortality fails too.

"Twilight" angst

I did it. I broke down and rented Twilight. If you've been living under a rock for the past year and don't know what I'm referring to, then let me explain. Twilight , in this case, refers to the film adapted from the book bearing the same name by Stephanie Meyer, a Mormon mom from Arizona. Her series of four books revolves around a teenage love story between vampire Edward and human Bella. Yep. That pretty much explains my conundrum. I actually allowed myself to watch a film about that.

Snarl. (I would usually say "Ugh" or "Sigh" here, but in trying to harness the energy of vampires and werewolves, I'm choosing to "snarl.")

So I watched and I can't stop thinking about it. I am utterly befuddled and perplexed that that would be the phenomenon it is. USA Today is writing about how Meyer's books are phenoms to be noted. Whatever. I fully admit that I've not read the books. Had no desire. Still don't. But I guess in my quest to figure out how in the hell Twilight has come to rule the popular culture universe, I'd better give them a twirl.

Part of my angst about giving into Twilight was simply about vampires. Not a big fan. Never have been. I thought that the film Interview with a Vampire was disgusting. I remember returning the video (video, not DVD) and telling the clerk how awful it was. He asked why, and I explained that I had no desire to listen to LeStat slurp his phlebotomous meal. I certainly wasn't looking forward to watching teen vampires at all. Well, I shouldn't have worried because the kitsch and camp and cheese of Twilight surpassed the drama and seriousness of the older film.

Let me start with Kristen Stewart who plays Bella Swan. (Yes, that's the character's name. I know.) I get it Kristen. I get it. You're working hard, hard to show us how much angst Bella is in. Yes, please hold your cell phone 6 inches away from your head once Edward appears. You're depth perception is off and your muscles go limp as his presence. Just like in the photo above. You do listless really well. Now what is interesting about that photo is that your mouth is closed while Robert Pattinson, who plays Edward Cullen, has his open. That's pretty much a reversal for the film. You're mouth constantly gaps open in that teenage-angsty way. You are just too non-chalant to close it. It's like a subtle middle-finger to adults. "See, look at me. I'm so cool, I'm giving you a droopy bottom lip." The reason I chose that photo was because it did capture your general blase demeanor. It says to me, "Yeah, I may be about to fly through the Washington forest on the back of my vampire boyfriend, but I'm cool. No big deal."

I must address the dialogue in the film. No I don't. I won't spend the time. I'll just give the lamest lines, in my humble opinion. Choice #1: "You're like my own personal brand of heroin." Choice #2: Hold on, spider monkey." My nephew explained it best when he said, "Well, they didn't read as lame as they sounded [in the movie]."

No rant about Twilight would be complete without discussing the heartthrob-mania-inducing that is Robert Pattinson. He's handsome. No doubt about it. He passes the "I'd do him" test. But holy goodness... I get it! You're tormented by how much you want Bella. I get the inner turmoil. Seriously... it was painful to watch in places. But I forgive you because of those few moments like the kiss. That was some good shit. I forgive you because of that stern "You're my life now," to Bella as you head off to track some bad vampire. I know that I'm asking you to make steak out of hamburger, but seriously, when did cinematic teenage brooding become so painful to watch? I don't know, but I'm sure I'll see more of it in November when New Moon comes to theaters.

Ultimately, my angst about Twilight comes as a result of my strongly held belief in right and wrong. It seems so utterly criminal to me that this is what holds the imagination of teenaged and middle-aged (quelle horreur!) females. Where is the Barbara Kingsolver in their libraries? Margaret Atwood? Toni Morrison? Isabel Allende? If they're not in the library, they're surely not in the movie theater. It says something that some of the very best storytelling in the last two years has come from the folks at Pixar. I admit it. I'm jealous. Jealous as hell that Meyer is the rich bitch she is because of this junk. I'm jealous that I didn't have a vampire boyfriend in high school that looked that good in a black suit and/or pea jacket. It feels wrong that I'm jealous.

Or maybe it's just the lack of oxygen in the cultural air that makes me feel so dizzy.