Hunger Games Part 2- Catching Fire

Catching Fire poster

My dad was entitled to actively try and interact with his oldest daughter this week, so tonight he totally messed up and thought I really wanted to go see Catching Fire, that second Hunger Games movie. I mean, personally, at first glance it wouldn’t have been a movie I was interested in paying to go see, but I can’t really pass up free dinner and a movie.

I feel like everyone in the English-speaking world knows  the generalities of what goes on, so I won’t bother. I was kinda peer-pressured into reading the trilogy, just because I was in seventh grade and all the cool kids were doing it……

So, the graphics for the movie were good, for what they were working with. I mean, they had computer-generated monkeys (scary m*therf*ckers), and they were simulating tidal waves and lots of natural events like weather and lightning, which technologically I can respect are pretty hard to make decent-looking. Whoever made the water park needs a raise 😀

I think stemming just from reading the books, I did not like the casting. I mean, depending on who’s read it, you may or may not have an issue with this and/or the actors, but some of them just don’t work. I do not like the guy who plays the Peeta character, for instance. I like him as an actor, but he just didn’t fit the character description, in my opinion.

Sounds nitpicky, but parts of the dialogue bothered me, too. I don’t know, they just sounded really disjointed and kind of false. Like they wouldn’t come out of anybody’s mouth if nobody told them to say it. If someone can think of an adjective for that, let me know. Again, it might have been the actors’ deliverance, or gone back to the writers.

Seriously loved the costume design. They sounded really elaborate in all the books, so obviously that was a huge priority in the movies, but even background characters had crazy shit going on. The woman Effie had this dress covered in Monarchs, and I kinda wanted it for a second. Yeah, that’s kinda sad 🙂


Find Your Own Sink


See, I knew immediately that I would never be able to do dishes ever again had this ever happened to me, I’m that allergic, but this still kind of made my day.

Breaking In The Bipolar

Bipolar break-ins

Those in the know just kind of know. There kinda always comes some sort of moment where new friends/family/colleagues just become privy to the fact that you are bipolar and/or possess a mood disorder. It being a mood disorder, it makes public appearances sometimes. Oh well. I mean, depending on who they are, hopeful it won’t do anything to your relationship. I know with a lot of my friends, they knew me for so long beforehand that being diagnosed just “explains a lot”.

Then again, I know romantic relationships and otherwise more personal ties can get stickier. The significant other may get more offended when you/I have an episode; things could just get messy. I’ve had relationships, for instance, where the other person gets really defensive of me, and they want to be the superhero and fix everything, and I sorry- bipolar don’t work dat way.

Family can work lots of ways, I’ve found. Some don’t even acknowledge it exists, like any disorder with any person, really. Others can get over-defensive, again, or don’t know how to approach it, because they are the ones who’ve known you you’re whole life and now want to treat you like you can break. It’s kind of easy to treat bipolaroids like that, I suppose.

I mean, we’ve always been family/friends/girlfriends/boyfriends/et cetera we’re jst on pills now and seeing a psychiatrist, why should you care? You don’t ever have to go to the doctor with me. Just have a little empathy. And you thought PMS was bad.

How’s everybody doing today? Not bad, personally. Doesn’t happen too often, so I’m quite happy with that.

But I’m a bit unhappy ’tis holiday season, I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m one of those people. In particular I hate Thanksgiving.

I mean, the principle is awesome. We’re supposed to be thankful for what we have, and acknowledge that some people don’t have those things. But you know, they also don’t have those things the other 364 days of the year, why are we only noticing one Thursday in November just because a newscaster said to? If anyone honestly cares, and itsn’t just doing it to look awesome, then do it in fucking April or something and be awesome then. You’ll still be feeding the Pedro the Homeless Man.

Another point, what is so fucking festive about stuffing yourself with food? Going back to being thankful, why gorge yourself in the faces of people who don’t have anything to eat at all? No? Makes no sense, correct? Did not think so.

In particular, do you see this family at any oter time during the year? If you are like a teacher of mine, and you spend it with a neighbor who has no family in the country, then I respect you fully, but don’t fake it


Ladies and Gents, We May Have News

So, talking to my newest editor friend I met by way of my old radiologist (only good thing that man ever did for me), and she was looking through my finished book, and told me she sees promise. Said, um, she’ll ‘talk with whom may find interest and get back to me.’

I think this sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship, children. 🙂

To My Old Love(s)

Old love, one day we have to
Give up and say we’re tired
Of leeching the warmth off each other
Does something like that
Mean we’re moving on?
Those classic angry
Grins and red-stained teeth we
Never laugh any
More at the end credit screen
It’s the end and it’s
Always what it seems
We always seemed like good kids, right
But everything ends eventually

More Misadventures In Creative Writing!

Dirty girl

So, we’re supposed to be on this poetry unit, and I’m kinda bored because I took this class last year. So, our assignment was to write a poem about our favorite food. Sounds like a dumb thing, right? Yeah, not when you’re writing about crabs! Holy CRAP, there is no humanly possible way to make anything written in prose involving crabs not to sound incredibly dirty……..

So halfway through I just gave up. Like, I’m just done. I handed in this poem that sounds mysteriously like third base, and now my teacher’s really pissed at me because ‘cuz it looks I seriously put effort into being an asshole on this project. But it’s impossible! I want him to write a goddamn poem about crabs that doesn’t sound like literary pornography! It’s not easy!

I give the f^ck up.

Only Human (Only Breakable)

“Have you lost weight?” My mom’s standard pick-up line. Been with Old Faithful since we all went off to college. Not that it’s a particularly impotent partner.

                I look her dead in the eye for a moment, and finally smile.

“I have to have lost weight? I can’t just be the total package every time you see me?” I shoot back half-teasingly. Hmmm, she got more work done. Subtle, but something. But what, Watson, but what………

                “Well, you certainly are beautiful. You look just like your momma!” She smiles her old self-assured smile, and I can’t help being fairly amused. If only she’d forget about the deal I made when I was twelve to have her retire to a room at the Ritz Carlton, we’d have a pretty good relationship by now. I think I’ll keep her.

                What’s coffee here and there between old inmates?

                “Are you still with that man from the hospital?” Go right for the money, mom, good for you. Bless her. And she wonders why Dad doesn’t talk to her anymore.

                She had a year or two taken off around her jaw, I finally decide. Got a nice doctor to do it, too. Well done.

                I manage to order myself another cup of coffee before I have to answer, “Yes, of course. Things are going wonderful with Will.” I mean, she’ll remember him as ‘the one she dated who was the doctor’ for the rest of her short years, but I let it go. She’s not the one sleeping with him.

                “Oh, good. He seems like a nice man.” I nod and agree awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. We do this about every six months if I can stretch it out long enough- she talks and I listen and everything’s great, but I just can’t talk about myself to her. Sharing has never been very customary for my mother and me.

                “Still got that….um….math job you had?” My mother says, primping her over-dried hair. It looks fried and over-highlighted. She looks like a twenty-something gay man. Or French.

                “I’m an accountant, mommy dearest. That math job is your retirement. It’s wonderful. I have a nice view from my apartment building, too. Will and I are thinking of adopting a dog. There’s a rescue Mastiff he sees every day on his way to work that he wants really bad.” I shrug and mouth ‘check’ to the waiter before my mother can object. Sorry, this is just too stiff for me. I can’t do it.

                “How nice.” My aging nutcase says politely. I don’t particularly adore my father either, but at least he makes no attempt to see me any time but New Year’s and his birthday.

                I look down nervously at the Dennis bracelet Will brought me back from seeing his sister at Thanksgiving. He had the maker’s charm removed and one put on with our initials on it. Calms me down some. I look at me mother with pure envy, how calm she seems to keep me here.

                My phone vibrates like mad in the side pocket of my Versace jacket, and I jump out of my skin. My mom grunts irritably, like I shouldn’t’ be ignoring her presence so suddenly.

                “Hello?” I whisper, not wanting to be too loud in the café, (or let my mother eavesdrop too much).

                A tinny voice whispers, “Stephie, is that you?” It’s Will’s niece, Carrie.

                “Carrie? Are you okay, sweetie?” I get up and walk outside.

                She starts crying, “It’s Uncle Will. He got hurt really bad and I can’t find my mommy. I don’t know where she went, Stephie, I’m scared.” She whispers.

                I whisper, “Baby, where are you?”

                “I’m at a hospital. A man called a truck and they took Uncle Will. The man drove me to the hospital.” Without thinking, I run back inside, grabbing my purse and waving goodbye to my mom like nothing’s happened.

                “You’re just going to leave me?!?!” She screams after me. I can’t help rolling my eyes, even though I’m almost crying.

                “Is-is that man with you, Carrie? Is he still with you?”

                Someone with a deeper voice answers, “Is this man your husband? Umm……Will Parr?”

                “No, I’m his girlfriend. He has a sister in the area, that’s the little girl’s mother.” I sniffle, “Her name is Rebecca Parr. Please, what happened to him?”

                “Ma’am, your boyfriend was hit by a car on 30th street. He was running in a crosswalk when he was hit. I saw it myself.” I almost fall to my knees. I wipe my eyes furiously.

                “What hospital?” I finally say, gasping. I hang up without another word and run to Brooklyn Hospital, crying and shaking. I can’t even think. My mind goes blank. I almost faint.

                I almost scream at the front desk to the ER, “Will Parr. Please.” I cry. The fat nurse looks up at me impatirntly, waving me through atomatic doors. I see poor Carrie immediately, her orange hair a mass flying at me. I pick her up and spin her around, screaming and crying, holding on for dear life.

                “Carrie, oh my God.” I sob. “Were you hurt, sweetie?” I sniffle. She shakes her head no.

                “Mr. Roger found my mommy,” I look up. An older man, definitely sixty-plus, Hispanic, nods in my direction.               

                “Mr. Roger?” I smile hysterically. I prop tiny Carrie on my hip.

                “Roger Canas. She said she’ll be here as soon she can. Nice to meet you.” He shakes my hand.

                “Thank you so much.” He nods.

                “Of course, Miss. Your boyfriend didn’t do much damage. Just banged up a bit. I think he may have broken a leg. Right in there, if you’d like to go in. I can watch the little one a bit longer.”

                I look at Carrie, “Is it okay if I go in?” She nods.

                “Stop crying, Aunt Stephie,” I kiss her on the cheek and put her down. I wipe my eyes again, sniveling like a baby.

                I sit down by Will’s bed in a huff, his face scratched up and bruised, his leg in some sort of brace contraption and various body parts bandaged. But the man’s alive. Suddenly he opens his eyes at me, and attempts to smile.

                “Yeah, sorry about that one.” He winces. I kiss his bald head.

                “What the hell?” I whisper more to myself than to him. “What part- whatever. Thank God you’re okay.” He raises his hand to scratch through my hair.

                “I thought I wasn’t ever gonna see you again, Will.” I whisper, leaning my head up against his.

                “Dumbass, you should know better by now.” He retorts, kissing me on the forehead.

                “I love you so much.”

                “Love you, too.”

                “No more playing chicken with cabs.” I tell him.

                “Yep,” He says tiredly.

                “And no dogs, if you keep this shit up.” Will smiles.


Wow I

Never realized how

Lucky I am

That I can fall in

And out of my mind

So easily

I seem to know everyone in the world

Who can only

Suffer their own human



They said crazy was
All the man was but
Devoted was
What the woman had
Doesn’t that just sound like normal fucking
Nutcase love?
Well good, because that’s all there ever really was
He was just the right place, the wrong love
She was the right words come undone
Heavy hearts, they weigh a ton
Things too bad to speak of
We just turn around
And long for that other sun
Soft sounds and foreign tongues
I’m familiar with
He said to keep my head down
Go find another crowd
They’ll take you like their own
You’re that beautiful
The right place, the wrong love
Beneath your lover’s fingertips
The same gun
And it hardly makes a sound
And the ashes all fall down

Ha, You’re Sad

Happiness is
Just your good
Punishment in disguise
Yep, I’m your ugly
Karma right now
Aren’t I?
I’m probably right how
Many times have you
Been so uncomprehendingly happy, been
In love or had a new job or had money,
And nobody knew what
To even do with being happy?
So everybody just lost everything because
They couldn’t get their bearings in time?
People just don’t know what
To do with 
That’s why there are starter marriages
And credit card maxes
And psychiatric wards
Been there
Be there
So people if you know
What’s good for
You stop being happy
It’s killing the rest of us
I’m personally on my way out
Be miserable if you have to
Keeping it clean and submitting
To your queen
Whatever he was meaning

Hearing Loss- WHAT?!?!?!?!

Hearing loss

It is official- I, as of 11/23/2013, have lost 60% of the hearing in my right ear……….and only 10 in my left. I’m sorry, that sh*t is messed up. I mean, I do everything I’m supposed to- I don’t listen to loud music (common teenager thing), I wear earplugs at concerts and the races (unheard of, right? LOL), and I don’t go getting concussions like everyone says not to do. I’m doing everything right, why is this HAPPENING????? My ENT is telling me I HAVE to go get that stupid hearing aid, which my insurance won’t pay for, and I can’t afford that sh*t! Life is expensive! And it’s all the stupid chemo’s fault! This is absolutely non-cancer at all! Nowhere near where hearing is controlled! Blah!

This ain’t right.

Think I Turned Him Gay……

Just saw a pic of my ex on Facebook (yeah, we’re those weirdoes that still stalk each other on Facebook) at legitimate cheerleading practice. And not even making fun of it, he was actually, like, practicing. Oh my God, I thought I was going to die. I mean, this and……the fencing team and- I’m so lost. Fencing’s a sport now? They’re just plastic swords! That’s not a sport, that’s a Shirley Temple! Whatever. Tiny spiteful ex moment. We all have them, don’t even lie.

I feel so Grace Adler right now it’s ridiculous, but probably only the first time when she thought it was funny.