shine
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Posts by shine
TiMer.
Sep 8th
**I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I just don’t seem to be able to get my Femme Writes post down to blog yet. Sorry for the delay.**
Last night, I was up late listening to the huge storm outside. I love thunderstorms. There’s something about them I find so comforting and cozy. There wasn’t enough thunder for my taste, but there was plenty of rain.
After sitting on my wet balcony reading for a while, I decided to watch a Netflix recommended movie. TiMer had been on that list for a while. Called a “sci-fi romantic comedy,” I was a little more than skeptical. I was right to be, as I would barely consider it “sci-fi.” In a technical sense, maybe, but on a practical level, it is simply a sort of love story.
The premise is this: Someone has invented a way for people to know exactly who their soul mates are and exactly when they will meet said soul mate; they call it TiMER (and they implant it in your wrist for $79.99). They don’t even try to explain how this TiMER works, other than some vague statement about oxytocin levels. The divorce rate has fallen, couples are happy, few people leave anything to chance any more. (The TiMer only works if both members of the soul mate pair have one; if only one member has it, his or her TiMER is blank until the other person gets the implant.)
What unfolds is a question about love, fate, and destiny.
What happens in the movie doesn’t really matter, as I am left with the question: If I could know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could meet the “right” person for me, because of some TiMER implanted in my wrist, would I get one?
Let’s set aside (for now) the fact that I don’t believe in soul mates or the “right” person. Is life about the journey or the destination? I’ve always been in the journey camp. Would knowing your destination affect your journey? I think it would. Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse, but it would definitely be affected.
In this movie, all these people are running around with these TiMERs implanted in their wrists, just waiting for the moment they lay eyes on their soul mates. How could you possibly have any other relationships, if you knew that the “one” for you was out there and you would meet him or her in 536d 4h 46m 17s? What if you meet your “one” when you’re 14 years old? What if you know that you won’t meet your “one” until you’re 70?
Life is all about cultivating relationships, in my opinion. The idea that you would know exactly who the “one” is when you meet him or her just takes all the fun and adventure out of it. I don’t think I would want to know.
It’s Friday, we should break up – Taking photos of myself.
Sep 3rd
I guess I can’t be trusted.
A couple of weeks ago, I found evidence of something pretty frightening. I did a photo shoot, and a rather extensive one, in which I tried to make it look like I was, um…twins…who were kissing. Seriously, figure this out. I have no idea what the fuck I could have been thinking. I’m also not entirely sure when this photo shoot took place, but I think at least three years ago. I’m pretty sure I recognize that apartment wall behind me.
Of course, I immediately destroyed all the evidence. Who wants anyone to KNOW they’ve done such a thing? I won’t tell you how many photos there were, so don’t even try to ask. There’s no way that you’ll get me to tell you that there were at least 30 photos.
And it is your lucky day. Because I only deleted 29 of them.
That’s right. I saved one just for you guys.
What the fuck am I DOING? Seriously…I’m worried about me. I can’t be trusted alone with my laptop any more.
And just a reminder, the 5th is coming up on Sunday! As always for a weekend, we’ll be accepting submissions through Monday or Tuesday. This month’s Femme Writes topic is Politics, Religion, and Women. I think it’s a pretty good topic. There’s plenty of room to find something that suits you, be it how far women have come or how far we have to go. Thanks in advance for your participation!
Loving my face off…without makeup.
Sep 2nd
A while back, there was a blogger who started some “Bloggers without makeup” thing. I meant to participate, I really did. Now I can’t even remember who it was. I promise to look it up later.
I really started thinking about it, though. This whole makeup thing…what’s the point? To enhance my beauty? That just doesn’t seem fair to the other women around me. I am dead sexy. To cover my flaws? I kind of like my flaws. Those flaws are what make me so very me.
So…I stopped wearing makeup. Almost entirely. In the last three months or so, I think I’ve worn makeup about three times. In the interest of full disclosure, I wasn’t a huge makeup wearer anyway. I’ve never been able to stand foundation on my face and I don’t even understand eyeliner. I’m a simple girl.
I do like to get all gussied up (shut your whore mouth, I live in Texas, where we say things like “gussied”), and put on some makeup and a pretty dress and heels. Day in and day out, though, I am purely a creature of comfort. Why then, was I bothering to put all this junk on my face?
Goal: Learn to love my face, without any makeup at all.
Result: After three months, I can tell you guys that I truly love my face. I can now officially look at it in the mirror and not think I look tired or sick, simply from a lack of mascara or blush. I like my eyes and my smile. I wish I had a bit more color in my cheeks, but it’s nothing terribly important. I’ll just have to do something fun to get a flush, right?
I still feel a little weird when I’m out without any makeup on. Mostly because everyone else is wearing makeup. I’m starting to realize, though, that really, no one notices but me. The difference between mascara and no mascara? That’s pretty much all in my head. No one else cares how long my eyelashes are.
Now, I don’t even love my made up face in pictures. The fact that I’m posting a picture of myself without any makeup at all is a HUGE step forward. And here it is:
Five things that are way sexier in movies than they are in real life, in no particular order.
Sep 1st
Personally, I kind of think movies (and television) are ruining us for real-life interactions with actual people. Despite how often Hollywood may try to think that they’re giving you “real people” characters, they’re just not. And now it’s all so much a part of our lives that I think we’ve almost forgotten how to be real people and interact with other real people. Nowhere is this more true than the sexy time.
And so I give you, in my opinion, five things that are way sexier in the movies than they are in real life:
Affairs: In the movies, everyone is always wearing matching underwear and getting it on in a beautiful hotel suite. That’s just not how it works. In real life, they are messy and usually take place in closets and hallways and cars and stuff.
Sex: In the movies, well, we usually only see the end anyway, but no one ever sweats or does anything clumsy. In real life, sex is sweaty and sometimes you bump heads or laugh or cough in the other person’s mouth. Maybe they should make a movie based around my sex life. I’m one clumsy bitch.
Long Hair: In the movies, women almost always have long hair and it’s never in their faces or anyone else’s. You know, because it’s someone’s JOB to keep it that way. In real life, long hair is in my face, your face, my mouth, your mouth, and I’ve probably just shed it all over the bed and the couch. I still like having longer hair, but man, can it be a pain in the ass.
Big Romantic Gestures: In the movies, these are always awesome and sweet and perfect. No one is worried about money or someone saying no or the whole thing just being one big, cheesy mess. In real life, no one can afford to do nor coordinate the level of BIG ROMANTIC GESTURE you see in the movies. Plus, anything you can think to do, they’ve probably already done in the movies, so then you’re just a big copy cat. Take out the trash when you say you will. That? Is more romantic than you know.
The Beach: In the movies, beaches are the PLACE for the romance. People splash in the water and make out on the sand and have sex on blankets that are magically sand free. In real life? Sand sucks, man. Seriously. It gets in all your crevices and it won’t go away. I’d only have sex on a beach if I was in the market for some vaginal exfoliation. Don’t get me wrong, I love the ocean. Hate the sand. Could we just make the shore out of some sort of wet suit material? Then I will happily have sex on the beach, and not just the drink.
The one where I point out that someone summed up how I feel about something better than I could. And she did it with a Jersey Shore reference. Crap.
Aug 31st
I’m going to wait here while you go read this post by CityGal, a blog I’ll confess, I had never read before last week.
Finished? Okay, so yeah…
This pretty much sums up how I feel. And how I’ve felt about the whole marriage thing for quite a while, aside from my many other feelings about the efficacy of marriage as a social construct or legal institution. This is purely me, as a single woman. Minus the whole “Jersey Shore” thing. I’ll admit to watching four episodes out of train-wreck like interest, but I couldn’t stomach more than that.
But this “shirt before the shirt” concept is an interesting one. I actually remember the day when, “but you’re just so much…fun!” started to sound like an insult, rather than a compliment. And really, it’s not about marriage. I have no desire to get married.
What it IS about, though, is someone saying, “You. I want to be with you, even when things aren’t fun. Even when you’re in a bad mood or upset or sad. I want to be with you because of exactly who you are…but yeah, you could be a little less sarcastic at me, okay?”
I’m just trying to be realistic.
Being the girl who’s “a lot of fun” is great, for a while. I’m sort of tired of it now, though. I think I’ve been trying to make myself less fun, actually, in an effort to escape this bullshit. With one exception, pretty much everyone I’ve dated for any length of time has married or moved in with (quickly) the next woman he dated. It’s starting to feel like the plot of a really bad chick flick. Didn’t they make something like this with…Dane Cook? See? My life, reduced to a movie starring DANE COOK. That’s not good, people.
I can’t be anything but myself, though. It’s just that “myself” is pretty complicated. As, I imagine, are most people.
What is it about me, though, that screams “shirt before the shirt”? Why is it that married men are drawn to me like cats to catnip? To be fair, men who cling to me like Saran Wrap scare the ever-loving crap out of me, but there must be a happy medium, right?
RIGHT?
Someone asked me not too long ago why I’m not married. My reply? “I’m not marriage material.” I’m really not. I’m strong-willed and opinionated and sarcastic and funny. I probably won’t do your laundry or have dinner on the table by 6:00 every night. I’m unlikely to be waiting for you in heels and pretty dress with a martini, all fixed up after my hard day of vacuuming. I have dreams and goals and aspirations. Most of all, I don’t need you, whoever you are.
I know what you’re thinking right now. You’re thinking, but Shine, not all marriages have to be that way. Plenty of smart, funny, strong women get married. And I won’t argue with you. But in my experience (at least in the place where I live) the people who find marriage to be important? They subscribe to much more stereotypically traditional gender roles. Moreover, most people, whether they admit it or not, in my experience, really like to feel needed (to a point). I’m unlikely to make anyone feel that way, unless I’ve lost my mind. It happened once, sort of, and it wasn’t pretty.
Plus, I just think marriage is a ridiculous idea. I even think I won @newslacker over at dinner last night. He’s basically the only person who ever agrees with me about any of this stuff (and he’s every bit as cynical as I am), but he’s still sort of on the marriage train. And he’s done it before, so he has no excuse. To those of you out there who are happily married: Congratulations! I’m happy for you. But I don’t think it works for everyone and I think as a concept, it’s outdated and a little silly. As a romantic gesture? I totally get it. As a business contract (which, legally, it is), though, it doesn’t make any logical sense. Especially if you don’t want to have children, which I don’t.
So because I don’t think marriage is important, am I forever doomed to be the shirt before the shirt? If you’re looking to meet the woman you’ll marry or live with or whatever, feel free to date me for a while. You’ll probably find her immediately.
