How could I forget this! HAHA... While Toni and I were watching SW3, there was a little boy directly to our front right who kept squirming throughout the entire movie. He seemed to be more interested in the projector than the film. I'm guessing by his appearance that he was about 6 or 7 years old. Anyway, as Padme gives birth to the twins, the little boy asks very loudly of his father, "Where did those babies come from?" Toni and I immediately burst into a fit of laughter.

...So not the place for this conversation. XD

I wonder how this dad and many other parents who took their children to the movie handled this question :3

Call me crazy, but I think it's sorta sad when a kid that old doesn't realize she was pregnant or what being pregnant means.

At any rate, thanks George Lucas for making parents everyone give a little sex ed to their brats!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you've all not been waiting for... *drum roll*

I just saw Star Wars III. Actually, Toni and I went to see it. Throughout this horrid piece of tripe, Toni and I kept exchanging glances, as if saying to each other, "It can't really be this bad, can it? Please tell me that you see how bad it is, too."

Oh, indeed, dear friend, it truly is as bad as you think.

When we walked out of the theater, we were giggling at how awful it was. We then proceeded to gut the poor thing for the next hour or so over pancakes and eggs. We came to the conclusion that the people that told us how "great it is except for the acting, of course," have somehow deluded themselves. Maybe they didn't want to believe that the last Star Wars movie ever made could suck so horrendously. At any rate, it did. George Lucas should buy stock in Hoover for sucking so much.

Suck... suck... suck.

I normally don't tear into a movie too bad if it has at least one redeeming quality. This movie has none. I also don't make it to point to spoil a movie. But seeing as talking about Star Wars really isn't spoiling anything since everyone knows what happens... well, I'm not ruining anything for anyone. I will not go into specific plot lines, though.

First off: the acting and FANTASTIC script.

I blame the director for the acting. These are good actors. You can witness them acting decently or even spectacularly in other movies. There's no excuse for the acting to be so utterly shitty in episodes I-III except that the director couldn't direct an actor out of a paper bag. "No, no, walk that way, dammit... out the open end!"

Ewan McGregor, in my opinion, did the best job handling the poor script. Everyone else... Well, even Christopher Lee couldn't work with this cheese, and he's the Lord of Hammer Films.

The lines were so bad. Beyond bad. They were terse, anything but dramatic, poorly written, etc. etc. I've seen better lines scribbled on bathroom stalls. I don't think even the most masterful line delivery could have saved them.

Lucas cannot write touchy feely scenes worth a damn. If you need proof beyond Episode II, by all means, watch III. Be mortified as you watch the characters uncomfortably touch each other as you lose more and more insterest in what happens to them.

This was one of Toni's biggest beefs, and one that I strongly agree with: you have no sympathy for the protagonist or anyone else in the story. From the moment you begin watching Revenge of the Sith, you don't really care what happens to Skywalker, because you know he's going to become a bad guy. But here's the thing: he's already proven he's a dickhead. You don't give a crap if anything bad happens to him. It's no surprise that such a dickhead becomes a bad guy.

Every story has to have a protagonist and an antagonist. That's just the way it is. That's what makes a story a story. In this story, that roll falls more on Obiwan and Yoda than on Skywalker. Ah, but there's the rub. The protagonist, the hero, must be "human" and have a fatal flaw. And in this story, Skywalker is supposed to be the hero with the fatal flaw. Trouble is, he's flawed from the very start. You're suppose to like the hero, understand him, and sympathize with him. There is nothing to like about Skywalker.

The whole sympathy thing goes for all the characters. Oh, poor Padme. Yeah, right. Padme dies of a broken heart and you don't feel an ounce of pity for her.

You should feel awful for Anakin... what with how he grew up and what happened to his mother. You should feel terrible for Padme watching the man she loves become this twisted jerkoff. But you don't.

The scene in which Skywalker becomes Vader, to put it bluntly, is retarded. He goes from saying, "What have I done?" to "Sign me up to the darkside." It's too abrupt. If he'd put up more of a struggle or didn't act so damned naive, you might care that he loses all hope and joins the Sith.

Bleh.

I could go on and on about what the movie lacked. It couldn't even redeem itself with all the fight scenes and special effects. Some of the fight scenes were pretty good, too. Particularly Yoda's with the Emperor and Obiwan Vs. General Android with flesh parts... um.. yeah (unnecessary and pointlessness, anyone?). But these scenes, as well as the other battle sequences, were too unrealistic. Too much CG. I just love watching old farts do backflips and trying to believe it, even when they do have super FORCE powers.

-_- Godz.

What sucks even more is that I went in with minimal expectations. Minimal meaning, "Please, just don't suck."

I want my damn money back.

It's depressing thinking about the movies and how wonderful they could have been. All it would have taken was some better writing.

All of you that are fans who have brainwashed yourselves into thinking this movie was good, pull your collective head out of George Lucas' butt, please.

I grew up watching IV-VI, and most of the fans I know are younger than I am. Hell, I was just a twinkle in my dad's eye when the first movie came out. I'm trying desperately to imagine how I-III would have been received had they come out back then and not now.... I can only assume they would have gone over very well because of the special effects and not the content. Perhaps, Lucas thought this is how the first three episodes would be received now. IV-VI were successful because they were ahead of their time, therefore I-III will be successful if they are visually spectacular. :/ If only.

Maybe Toni's right; we need to hand in our geek memberships because neither of us liked Star Wars III.

Comic books... still... a mess ><

So, I decided to take a break from the comic book mess because my dad's den is just too little to sort that many comics. Scary thought. I cleaned out the closet in the front bedroom instead. I shit you not, I threw out 4 garbage bags and one box full of CRAP.

The true question is why I kept it in the first place. A lot of it was old notes from school or actual school work and clothes. I kept maybe one box of notes and things from my youth, and everything else went into the trash. Actually, I filled the herbie and two bags are sitting beside it. Another bag and box are still in the house, waiting to be taken out. That's a lot of fucking trash. The closet looks decent now. *sigh*

I tossed a ton of magazines, too. The whole time I was bagging this crap, I kept thinking to myself, "Why the hell didn't I throw this away back in 1996?!!"

The packrat gene is strong. I plan on going through the three other closets in the hall and family room. Eventually. I suppose the comics should get done first.

Cleaning up 10 years of mess is a nightmare.

So, I was cleaning out this big, hideous chest of shelves and drawers and came upon a ton of old junk. It's nicknamed the blue beast for good reason. It was originally a piece of furniture in my sister's room when we were iddy bitty kids, so it's from either the late 70's or early 80's. I'm guessing it is older than me. It's a shitty blue-green color. Anyway, after moving into this house we've been in since 92?, I have been sticking pictures and crap on it, as well as painting it. It's an eyesore.

I threw away half the contents stored in this thing. I had to pull the draws out of it just to move it, which is what lead to the cleaning. I found this old IM conversation with Justin W. I had printed up for some reason or other. Reading it made my stomach twinge and made me laugh out loud at how idiotic it was. To summarize, Justin was desperately trying to get to Rhapsody through me. Rhapsody was a girl I knew from WA a few years ago. We fell out of contact. I wouldn't say that she was in love with me but that she cared for me and liked me a lot. He wanted her, and he didn't even know her.

Justin was very tricky in the conversation. He was as subtle as a brick through a window about bringing up Rhapsody. He tried appealing to my curiousity and to my weaknessess just to get me to talk about her. Heh, I could rewrite the conversation but I'm afraid he might come slap me for it. I think the only reason I kept the conversation was because I was so blown away by completely devilish he was. At the time, it really pissed me off. I thought he was trying to use me as a springboard to get access to her.

Luckily, I look back on it now in good humor. It was utterly ridiculous, juvenile, and unrealistic. He even said that he loved me just to butter me up. XD

Oh, I also found a hand-written note from him that was from high school. I'd forgotten about it.... it went something like, "How could you do this to me? You're consumed with this evil," or some such. That provided a good laugh, too, 'til I tossed it in the trash. I'm still not sure what the hell he was talking about. He put down Toni a lot in the note, too. I think he thought I put a curse on him or something.

My back and legs are killing me from moving furniture and lifting all those comics. I've been up since 8:30am, and I'm already dead tired. Guess I'll tuck in early tonight.

Sorting comic books with my dad (because he just stuck them in boxes for the last couple years... in no order at all, the savage) could easily be compared to stepping on a jellyfish.

I used to sort things for a living. DVD's, CD's, Software, games. I can alphabetize and catagorize like a motherfucker. As it is now, my own CD and game and movie collections are in order.

This might be why I am so anal and have very little patience with my dad as he thumbs through some comics, going, "Hey, I wonder what this one is worth..." and wanders off to look it up. ><;; I started this project because I am moving the comic collection into the recently finished front bedroom (yay! I just have to put the electrical plates back on the wall and wax a small bit of floor by the door, then put the metal strip on the threshold). So, I'd like them to be in order so we can easily file away comics--instead of bagging and boarding and shoving them in a box.

My nerdiness knows no bounds.

But, goddammit, he's irritating the piss out of me. /cry

I had the weirdest dream.

It started out at some sort of carnival/school fair. Larry, whom I used to work with at Best Buy, was there, and we were in front of some shooting booth...

A second later, everyone's outside and we're walking around a crag (a crag from Final Fantasy 11--it's a giant bone-like structure with telepoints which white mages can teleport you to or you can enter a world called the Emptiness). When I write "we" I'm talking about dozens of people. Out of no where, enormous flying dragons with web-like wings appear and begin sweeping people up in their wings. I get caught in one, but I manage to untangle myself and run underneath an outcropping on the crag. I could see two dragons, but I think there were more.

Then the dream shifts to South America. South America is actually the United States. Again, I'm in some sort of school, but I think it's more of a military academy (reminds me of Starship Troopers). I'm in a hanger with suiting up lockers which each have doors directly in front of them which open up to the outside, like mini launching bays or something. There's a guy in front of me and a guy behind me in this small, dead-end hall of lockers and bay doors. I think we're doing a security inspection? Anyway, the doors to the outside pop open by some automatic switch and we're closing them all by hand, as we had heard about the recent dragon attacks up north (Don't ask me how I was in two places at once... I don't think I was actually dreaming I was myself but two different characters in this "movie"). I look up and see a gaping hole where something has torn/shredded through the building and I shout at the guy ahead of me that we have to get out of there. The guy behind me is also shouting and then we see a small dragon emerge behind the guy ahead of us. The guy ahead of us is pointing up and behind us at another dragon, a much bigger one. I turn around to see the guy behind me become dragonbait, and I make a run for it. I somehow dodge the dragon at the opening of the hall and nearly run smack into a nother one. The hallway situation was almost movie formulaic... but I don't think I've seen it done before. Don't ask me how my brain came up with it. If my description of the scene sucked too much to understand, here's a visual aid:

D--dragon, g--guy, m--me.

[D__g_______m___g___D___

So, I'm running in a panic, as is nearly everyone else in this academy's halls. I follow a young, very urban guy into a restroom/dorm shower room where twenty other people are huddled under the showers with cold water turned on and pouring on them. The urban guy and I do the same--turn the water on and huddle under a showerhead.

Now, as some last joke from my brain, I'm naked under the shower while everyone else is fully clothed and fearing their demise at the hands of dragons. I wasn't naked before >.> But this doesn't seem to matter to me in the least, anyway, since I'm too busy worried about my life.

And that's it. I have no idea why we were under cold shower water... I think maybe the dragons didn't like water? Erm... yeah.

I also had another dream about wanting to rent out a store property to open a shop or something. I don't recall much of this dream except that the city I was in was a small, podunk town like Maysville, KY.

Well, that didn't work. -.-;

After staying up through Tuesday night, I went to bed around 9:30 PM on Wednesday. I've been un since 1pm yesterday.

GREAT.

And there are things biting me. I think a spider bit me in my arm pit. HOW THE HELL DOES A SPIDER GET IN YOUR ARM PIT?

My brain hurts. /cry

Also, my printer is possessed by satan. I use it so infrequently, anyway... and last year, I had to print all my school papers in blue or green because the black cartridge head is evil n' stuff. Well, I went to print up some crap about titles for ToS, and the thing just spewed blank pages at me for about 5 minutes. After some re-aligning and BS, I finally got it to print in green.

Surely, one's eyeballs sinking back into one's head is not a good thing.

Wow, it's Friday. I think I'll sleep through it.

O_O Sleep depravation... soooooo good. I've been up over 24 hours now, trying to straighten out my sleep hours so that I actually see some daylight once in a while. Oh mah god, the sun! It burns! So, what did I do all night and all today? Well, I painted (woot one more coat on the crowning on one side of the room and I are done), played Tales of Symphonia for several hours, cleaned the bathroom sink, did a load of laundry, had a mildly amusing conversation with my TV, played more games, painted more, chased Morg around the house while calling her "poo poo kitty," and... uh... put away laundry. YES. THRILLING.

In case you missed it, slap-happy mode has hit me with a baseball bat in the face. Now the question is... can I stay away tonight long enough to watch Lost? 4 hours to go... Rarrrrrrrrr. Or will that over the counter speed and green tea extract leave my tummy all hurty and send me into a seizure? STAY TUNED.

Hmm. I now take a vitamin. *gulp*

Must go paint more.

I just watched a National Geographic special on Taboo "Bloodrites." Gotta love On Demand. If you haven't seen the program, it contains footage of Shi-ite Muslims slicing themselves with razors and knives until the streets are literally red (see why here), a tribe in Papua New Guinea which has a sort of initiation process in which boys must be bled of their tainted mother's blood to become men, and overly corny American Vampires.

Corny American Vampires. It's coming to Fox this fall.

I've always had a fondness for blood. Yeah, it was probably growing up a vampire nut. I'd read every vampire book I could get my hands on and watched every movie, good or bad. Love the bad ones. One of my guilty pleasures is indulging in a horribly cheesy vampire movie.

Of course, I also have a strange obsession with sharks. Maybe I just like thinks with razor sharp teeth. Hmm.

They say that your imagination withers as you enter adulthood. Many times, faeriefolk and dragons and vampires are replaced with god, gods, or atheism. I dunno. If you can believe in a big daddy in the sky, why not a spirit in a tree? Peer pressure and conformity, I guess.

I don't know what I believe, personally. I have no absolute religion or set of beliefs which rule over the choices I make and how I live. I have my morals, and those are good enough for me. Everything I need to know, I learned in kindergarten... and all that jazz. I'm not an atheist or agnostic. I just am, and that is all that matters.

I began re-reading Tuesdays with Morrie last night. I was prompted to after I saw the movie adaptation a couple days ago.

I've been reading a lot of old books lying around. Something to do before I sleep. And my memory has gone to complete shit the last few years, so when I read things, I enjoy them as if it were the first time. Strange, I used to be able to recall exact details in books or movies. Now, I really have to be fixated on the subject to retain anything from it.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, blood.

There is something very personal about flesh and about blood. Sharing was deeply personal, intimate. It's erotic for some. There's that whole bond thing to consider. Blood brothers.

Blood fascinates.

I used to be a cutter, and just the act of watching my blood flow would put me in a trance. Being in that place, that self-hypnosis and meditative state, is very addictive. To this day, I sometimes have the urge to return there. I don't know how I ever stopped. If you asked to to explain it, I'd be lost for words.

Sometimes, when one lies in bed too long, trying to sleep, strange memories come fluttering into the mind--much like some random moth sensing the light's still on.

Oh, the shit that comes into my mind!

For example, I had a very sudden and clear memory of an old friend named Jennifer Rogers. The particular memory was of her strange habit of making bubbles out of her own saliva, and how I often wanted to bop her on the head for it. Stop being so disgusting. I don't think I ever said anything to her about it, and perhaps that's why it took up some corner of my mind... to taunt me randomly at times when I should be sleeping.

Other memories to surface... A very disturbing crush I had on a boy I met only once when I was... what, 14? 15? I was at the birthday party for a friend of a friend. Well, she was my friend... but not really, since she lived in another city. Julie would often take me to this girl's place, and I would watch them try to roll joints in the pathetic way only a rich girl mingled with white trash can. That was the first time I ever smoked pot. Needless to say, I didn't even catch a buzz and was less than impressed. But that was their thing, and I suspect it was one of Julie's only motivations to be there in the first place.

I digress.

I was at this party, and this pretty blonde thing strolls in. He has chin-length hair, pale blue eyes, and the kind of lily-white skin you'd have a better chance seeing on a cadaver than a living boy. When I saw his neck, I was in love. Don't ask me to explain why his neck did the trick, for I have no idea how the teenage girl brain works.

I fixated on him for about a year or so. Bry would love to take every opportunity to poke fun at me for it.

I saw this boy again in 1998. He'd turned into a young man, somewhat scruffy around the chin. He had the same presense, but I felt no spell wash over me... and I wondered what the hell had compelled me to admire him for so long just a handful of years before.

Another memory slips in, and I'm thinking about a summer night in Woodland Park. There were many of those... lots of trodding about in the dark like we didn't have better things to do. Avoiding bums and cops just to sit on the swings for a bit and converse about nothing at all... oh, yeah, that was great fun.

This specific night that came to mind included two of my close friends. Well, close at the time, to be sure.

You ever feel like you just arrived in the wrong place, so you sorta stumble along until something feels right? Nothing felt right that night.

I remember Justin W. whispering in my ear that he was going to kiss Toni. Some evil little thought had come whizzing through the shadows and buzzed right into his head telling him that since she's never been kissed, I should do the honors. He's not even trying to stop grinning ear to ear at his own devilish plan. Sure enough, a fumbling seduction ensues, and I'm smack in the middle of it... like some strange midwife at the delivery of something most foul. Toni receives a kiss... and quickly retreats the entanglement--mortified, dumbstruck, you name it. And I'm left there, thinking, "Why the fuck am I here?"

Why the fuck am I here? Just as surely as I was confused that night, I'm confused now. Perhaps that's why these memories fire-off as I'm trying to go to sleep--they are all small details in the grand scheme of things! This gigantic portrait my brain is painting to give me some reason to be here must include every mundane or fantastic detail, or I might cease to be!

Then again, it's probably just a lack of oxygen to my brain.