anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

oh my, an actual update.

While Equity A people were having their weekly Monday afternoon lectures, I was sitting in a darkened theatre in Orchard drooling over Kate Winslet's body.

I watched Little Children and more than ever I wish I had curves. Yes, I admit, I like my body a lot more now than before, but simultaneously, I wish I could pull off having flesh without having fats. Like Kate Winslet. I think she's absolutely beautiful and I want a body like that - curves, meat, and breasts, exactly like a real woman. 'Cause I'm all skin and bones and lumps of celluloid and yes, my cousin my grandmother my uncle my parents are all right, being skinny isn't nice to look at.

Well, fuck, what am I supposed to do about that? I ate two brownies today, I eat lunch and dinner every single day without fail, and I swam a grand total of two times last month. The next time someone asks me why I'm so skinny, I'm just going to say, "I don't fucking know so stop asking me."

The next time someone accuses me of being anorexic, I'm just going to say, "If thinking that helps you sleep better at night."

I hate bitching about my figure/weight/whatever because it gets old and things that get old bore me half to death, but it's just so irritating when people keep asking you to eat because you're getting too skinny when you are eating and you know that you're getting too skinny. I mean, the last you checked, you were the one who almost died in disbelief when you successfully put on a pair of size 32 EDC jeans and bought it for Chinese New Year. (On the bright side, it was on clearance so probably it was stretched a bit or something. And the cutting is damn big. Yeah. It's looser than my size 34.) So really, there's no need for other people to constantly get in your face about your weight.

I was at lunch with the extended family on Sunday. Horrible lunch; I can count on one hand the number of things I ate, such that I had to swing by Starbucks en route to somewhere else for food. What the hell, right? I didn't stick around for them to finish up dessert, considering I stuck around and basically sat there drinking tea for an hour and a half. I bailed when all the main courses were served and when they were waiting for dessert.

The point: The usual "Yelen you're damn skinny!" chorus ensued, the same thing I hear whenever I meet up with people whom I don't see regularly. Sigh. The next time I drag myself to shindigs along those lines, I'm bringing earplugs.

**

Anyway, Little Children was amazing. I entered the theatre dry-eyed and left it misty-eyed. It's one of those understated, quiet films that slowly and meticulously document its characters' gradual break down/growth, almost pretentious, but not quite. I don't know how to describe it; it's like being privy to someone's fiercely and intensely private life for a couple of hours and coming away from it with mixed feelings, like you're changed, but not really.

Okay, simply put, it was a very me sort of film. Yep.

And Kate Winslet is gorgeous.

**

Was watching In Her Shoes on Star Movies Sunday night and at the end of the movie Cameron Diaz's character read out an e.e. cummings poem. I thought it was absolutely gorgeous, but because I don't believe that poetry should ever be read aloud, hearing it as opposed to reading it kind of took away some of its beauty for me.

Luckily, I found it towards the end of my copy of 95 Poems.

I really fucking love this poem. And so I'm going to waste five minutes typing out the whole thing when I can just copy and paste it from somewhere online, just because it's that good.

92

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

A poem like that written for you is totally reason enough for you to marry the person who wrote the poem.

When all's said and done, the written word is still the easiest way to my heart.

**

Of course, you must be able to write for that to work; otherwise, I'd just scoff and thumb my nose at you and either be nice by saying, "This is a joke, right?" or be mean by saying, "Why are you even bothering? Don't bother. It's a complete waste of time."

What can I say? I have high standards. But since we only live once, I won't settle for less.

On a different note, rhyming poetry is so trite.

**

I'm way too lazy to write about what I've been up to over the past few days so I'll sum it all up and say I HAD SO MUCH FUN OMG!!!11!!1!ONEONE!!!11ONE!!

I was at VideoEzy last night and I rented The Break-Up (I love Vince Vaughn!), John Tucker Must Die (brainless entertainment <3 and Sophia Bush is SO pretty) and Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle.

I want to watch Notes on a Scandal.

Tags: family, guys, i'm fat, movies, poetry
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