When I Was 13

During my time writing this blog I’ve admitted to a multitude of secret shames. Keep in mind dear internet that I do have family and friends that read this blog, who have therefore discovered far more about me than I care to acknowledge in their presence. For instance: my fear of having a stroke, my love of Little Ashes, my subsequent obsession with Robert Pattinson, even my abhorrence of crying in public places. But none of that will compare to what I’m about to tell you…

I LOVE THE MOVIE TITANIC.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, “But Nina, Titanic won tons of awards. It’s a top grossing movie. It was beautifully done and historically as accurate as it could be. No way is that worse than loving Little Ashes.” And I’d reply that all of those responses are true, but my love of Titanic goes beyond a normal appreciation of the movie.

Titanic came out when I was in middle school. As a girl of the 90’s, 6th thru 8th grade were prime Leo loving years. And boy did I ever. I scribbled his name on composition notebooks. I fell asleep to thoughts of him every night. I even had a life size plaque of him in my room. It was sad. I knew that then, as well as I know it now.

When Titanic came out I saw it 16 times in the theaters. I’d ball like a baby at every viewing. In my defense, what else was I going to do at the age of 13? Go to parties and get drunk? Not likely. Someone’s mom had to drive us wherever we went; coming out of a party smelling like liquor would probably make for a horrible ride home. Not to mention I was the girl in the back of class in the plaid jumper. I wasn’t being invited to many parties. So I delved into Titanic with my whole being. I loved how tragically romatic it was. I hated Kate Winslet for not giving up her spot on the floating door so that Leo could have lived. I’d go to sleep at night with the radio playing so I could wake up whenever they played “My Heart Will Go On.” I was a dork. I was a loser. And Titanic was my purpose in life for a few brief months.

Eventually I got over it. I moved on. I bought the movie when it came out on VHS, but never watched it. Later on, my friend who had shared my obsession bought me the Collector’s Edition DVD. Again, I never watched it. Until this past weekend that is.

I was home alone and needed something to do. Going out was out of the question as I had acquired quite the sunburn the previous day. So I threw in Titanic, meaning only to watch the first half in hopes of stopping myself from overwhelming depression. Of course that didn’t work, and I watched the whole movie all the way through including special features. By the end, I had been watching Titanic and Titanic related material for about 6 hours, maybe more. I had instantly reverted to a 13 year old girl. I was depressed for the rest of the day, and most of the next. Movies like that just do that to me; something I’ll thrill you with in future posts.

Anyway, I’ll be watching Titanic again sometime this week. Haley said she wanted to watch it, and who am I to deny someone. A big bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues for anyone else wanting to join in. Afterwards I’ll be boxing up my Collector’s Edition to remain out of sight for a few more years. Or until the next time I’m home alone with nothing better to do. Whichever comes first.

Baby Otter, Baby Otter, Baby Otter!!!!

Too cute for words. Go here.

It Might Get Loud

It Might Get Loud Trailer from Roma Sha on Vimeo.

Still pissed that I didn't see this while it was playing at the Enzian. Jack White is one of the coolest men to have ever walked this planet. He's up there with Bowie and Prince, and dare I say it... even Duckie from Pretty in Pink.

Stroke 101

I am what some might call a hypochondriac. Ok, so most people would call me that, and they'd be right. Probably the most odd delusion I suffer from is that I will have a stroke at any given moment. And it is all this woman's fault. Now everytime I have a headache I think I'm having a stroke. Everytime my eyes hurt, I'm having a stroke. Everytime my voice goes out, I'm having a stroke. Everytime I lie awake at night pondering the existence of life, I'm having a stroke. To assure myself I'm ok, I sing Christmas carols and count to ten over and over again. It calms me down.

Unless of course I forget the words to Silent Night. Then I'm definitely having a stroke!

Party Monster

The other night Kyle, Haley and I watched Party Monster. Dear God, do I ever love the living hell out of that movie. Fabulous gay men, the 90’s, great music… It’s my Mecca. Granted it is a murder story, but man was it ever fun before that point.

I had a long discussion with one of my co-workers about this same issue. I had spent the majority of my day reading up on the incident, as well as the history of the whole Club Kids scene. My co-worker walked up while I was watching a video of the group’s visit to the Joan Rivers Show. He asked what I was watching, and I explained that I had just watched the movie for the umpteenth time and was just relishing in all of the Club Kid madness as a means of filling up my day. I told him I loved the movie, and that I adored watching all of the interviews of the real Club Kids. His response? “But isn’t that movie about a murder? It was depressing. I really liked the guy they killed.”

1. Yes, it’s a movie about a murder. But it’s also a movie about a movement. If Michael Alig hadn’t been involved in the killing do you really think anyone would still care? No. He was a leader in the group; a face that America recognized.
2. The murder is only during the last few minutes of the movie. Up until that point it’s pretty amazing and fun. Yeah, there are downer parts, but for me, it’s mostly just fun.
3. Really? You liked Angel? He had like no personality in the movie. He was barely even in it. You only like him because you feel sorry for him in the end. In real life, I’m sure Angel was a great guy (fun, sweet, personality to boot), and in no way did he deserve to die, especially in the savage manner he did. But come on, his part was really poorly written in the movie. You don’t have time to get emotionally attached to him as a character before he’s killed.

Anyway, I still like Michael Alig; not as much as James St. James or Richie Rich, but still. I know, I know… He’s a murderer, and a brutal one at that. But hey, someone has to like the murderers and rapists of the world, and John Waters can only do so much to cover that duty on his own. So I’ll take one off old John’s hands I guess. You know, for posterity’s sake, or something like that…

Goodbyes to a House

A little while ago I lived in this nice little house on Parkland Dr. Now, 8 months after I said my goodbyes to that place, someone else has moved in. And what does this mean for me, why is it a big deal? Well, that house was a part of my life; a much bigger part than I thought it would be at the time. I made friends in that house. I fell in love in that house. I learned to cook in that house.

Parkland was the first house I lived in after I moved out of my parent’s. I had maintained residence in many of an apartment, but Parkland was a house. A REAL FUCKING HOUSE!!! It had two living rooms, a separate kitchen, and best of all a huge back yard with orange trees that scented the air on warm days. It felt like a home. It was a place that I longed to get back to after a day at work.

It also marked the first time I was really making it on my own. I’ve worked since I was 14, and have always made my own way. But my parents were always there to bail me out when I was less than prepared come bill time. At Parkland though, I was able to pay my own way. It was great being able to call my dad and know that I wasn’t just calling to ask for money.

The Parkland house had its drawbacks. It was old and dirty. The plumbing clogged up, the windows let in a constant breeze, bugs resided in the air vents, and every door was used as an entry way by the roaches of the neighborhood. My roommates rarely cleaned. The kitchen was far too small. And a certain dog that slept on the couch made my life hell every other day.

But for all of the negatives, there were equal positives. After 2 years of being heartbroken over my ex, I finally found peace while living at Parkland. I decided to stop being scared and entered a relationship. I was never lonely or able to live in my head, as I often do, thanks to my roommates. Rebecca taught me to care, really care, about the loved ones in my life. Samantha taught me what comfortable silence is. Jess taught me why I’ll never hang an ugly tapestry. Jeremy taught me to laugh at crazy people, even when they’re someone you love. Friends came and went. Parties were had. Life went on…

I got a kitten while living at Parkland. I bought a bike and then wrecked that bike while living at Parkland. I got sick, I laughed, I cried… All while living at the house on Parkland Dr. And out, buried under a tree in the back yard, I laid to rest my hamster Joey in a Chinese take-out box using a plastic kitchen spoon as a shovel and a candle for light. I’ll never forget Parkland, but I say my goodbyes now knowing that the portion of my life I had there is gone.

So goodbye Parkland! I’ll miss you!

Kate Micucci

Possibly the most adorable thing ever. And she's crazy funny.
katemicucci.com
garfunkelandoates.com

Fact:

Whenever I see the word "organism" I always read it as "orgasm."

Dreamland

I want to live in a world that looks like this, even if just for a day. Which is the only possible reason I would ever take acid.
(via minililimi)