"I'm sorry, Ms. Hobbes. Jonathan won't be coming down. Ever."

I love this blog because I have the freedom to bore my readers with lengthly reviews about movies that came out 6-11 years ago as I see them for the first time. I mean, wasn't my recent review of Good Will Hunting a hoot? Well kids, I've got another one for you. Just saw Amelie last night. Picture it. 2001. This film just came out. You. Saw it. You. Liked it alright. But, I adored it. I want to make sweet, simple love to it. And moreso to Audrey Tatou. But mostly to the film itself. And the story. I really needed to be reminded that life can be about simple pleasures, surprises and is often about risk-taking and vulnerability. My favorite part is Amelie's daydreaming about her love while she's baking a cake and then she breaks down when she realizes the dream isn't real. And also, Audrey Tatou's face in the montage in the beginning when she's underneath that guy having sex . . . and she looks like she's gotta laugh so hard.

"Nino is late. Amelie can only see two explanations. 1 - he didn't get the photo. 2 - before he could assemble it, a gang of bank robbers took him hostage. The cops gave chase. They got away... but he caused a crash. When he came to, he'd lost his memory. An ex-con picked him up, mistook him for a fugitive, and shipped him to Istanbul. There he met some Afghan raiders who too him to steal some Russian warheads. But their truck hit a mine in Tajikistan. He survived, took to the hills, and became a Mujaheddin. Amelie refuses to get upset for a guy who'll eat borscht all his life in a hat like a tea cozy."

Obviously a few of her character's nuances reminded me of me . . . especially the mysterious, wild imagination part of her. And maybe also a little bit of her naivety. I found the film well-written, well-played and the underlying message quite inspiring. And, the subtitles always keep me on my toes. I had to pause the movie at least six times, mostly to rub my itchy eyes . . . and pour myself more wine . . . and order a pizza . . . and check my Facebook news feed. But really though, the film had my entire attention. Also, I practiced saying 'Merci' like Amelie over and over. I think I got it. So, when I get to France someday, I'll be officially 'ready'.

My eye is so swollen you could fry an egg on it. No? I'm so confused about proverbs.

Sometimes I want to send some of my best comedic material to Cole Escola for his comments. And then I want to publish a book of all my musings with his notes in red. It would probably make a million dollars in the first day. #farfetchity

I'm in really good spirits today. That's what fresh rejection does for my soul: invigorates it.

I'm also so hungry I'd consider chewing a half-alive buffalo carcass. Good morning, vegetarians.

Last night I had dreams about:

1) Mice

2) Facebook updates

3) My stomach bloating to the size of a large bowling ball

So, things are pretty much the same in my life.

Restaurant Week is here again. I really want to try American cuisine this time around. I've been having too much Italian lately. That's what she said! Ohhh!

I've been waiting all week for a paycheck so I can buy a new book. Check back next week to see what I'm "currently reading". Hopefully it won't take me three years to finish it like that horrid Second City book. Just kidding, I enjoyed that book. For ten straight years.

Too much exaggeration this morning. But that's all mornings for me. And afternoons. I take evenings off.

40 minutes until lunch.

Want to feel 'surreal' for approximately seven hours? Go see a good friend get married. Spooky.

I don't like sports. There, I said it.

I've decided to 'grow up' in 2012. Check back in 2012 when I finally reveal: "My Career Choice"!

With that, I take my leave. #oppositeofmaternity

I can't believe my writing has been reduced to hash tags. What a cold, sad world it is. UNT

"Never Cease Dreaming." -my StepDad

Recently I decided I am going to publish my old LiveJournal entries. Privately publish, of course. While I kept numerous tangible diaries over the years written in my ladylike handwriting, I also happened to regularly record my life online on a journaling site called LiveJournal. Now, technology has taken online journaling to the next level in that you can convert all your old entries into .PDF format and even choose to publish a book from the file! Actually, this has been going on for a while, but I only discovered it last year after an epiphany and a decision that I needed to somehow find a way to record all those ridiculous musings from when I was a teenage. I kept an online journal from sophomore year of high school to senior year of college: can you IMAGINE my crazed diary from that time range? EEK. and. OI. and. yesssss.

The point I'm getting to here is I happened to come across an old entry that amused me and made me feel like at least I'm getting some of my goals accomplished from my past.

Lend me your eye and behold:

November 17, 2007

My Mood was 'Anxious' and the Music of Choice was 'Alanis'

So.

When I move to NYC.

First thing I'm doing with my new york boyfriend is going to an authentic jazz club.all smokey and swankey-like.

and I am going to wear a tight black cocktail dress, drink a cosmopolitan, and thank the lord for being alive.

Well, the only contradiction I found with that little blurb was the word 'smokey'. Why did I even want it to be smokey? As a long-time allergy sufferer, I am positively confuzled at my own desires. Perhaps I wished there was a fog machine there. Maybe I thought NY jazz clubs were foggy. No, actually, I'm sure I was imagining that jazz club scene from the film Dream Girls. Because Hollywood always paints an accurate depiction of New York. Also, I lied. I found another contradiction. Drinking a cosmopolitan. Clearly again, I was influenced by something I was currently watching on the television: Sex and the City. Even though in 2007 I knew I hated the taste of Cosmopolitans, I was apparently still trying to pretend I was my favorite fictional character of the time [Carrie Bradshaw].

Still, that entry has come true since then. Better than I imagined, as New York sometimes seems to do to me. It's interesting to me that in 2007 I was actively planning my big move. Ever since I was a little girl I had always wanted to move to a big city, and barely knew about New York City. But it wasn't until I first visited that I was sold. Then I went on a doubtful-Chicago binge, as we all do. But I remember the day I decided I was certain I was moving to New York. Jordon and I were fucking around in my professor/mentor's office [Rob] as we did, looking at something on Rob's computer. I remember being behind him and him asking us what was the point of waiting or 'wasting time' in Chicago if I knew I wanted the end result to be life in New York. I didn't really have an answer. Up until that point, I had been very comfortable with the idea of spending time in the Midwest only to gradually move my way up to New York. Rob said, "If you want to do it. Just go. Or else you might never get there." Then I had that epiphany when I realized I had nothing to lose. And, I hated the Midwest. I walked into the main hallway of the auditorium and thought, "Welp. That's it." There weren't any negotiations anymore. Not my ever-friendly naysayer friend who once said, "I think Katie should wait a couple years after college before she tries the big city." Right. This coming from a person who moved to Manhattan when he was 17 years old. No ifs nor buts, bitch [me] was going.

And I did. And I thought I was ready for New York to rip me a new one. Hahaha, I was wrong. I don't think anyone is ever ready for someone to punch them in the face, titty twist them and then kick them squarely in the arse. Because that's what NY will do to you . . . on a good day.

And yet, I'm still here. With no plans of leaving any time soon. Chuckling at old journal entries of naive little me dreaming away as usual. Stomach rumbling for a boring lunch at my boring job. But still not defeated. I moved to this city with the hopes that my skin would thicken and toughen a bit. And I feel it happening. Not enough to close me off from the world [with proper maintenance and consistent reality checks and occasional visits to the Midwest], but enough to become a determined fighter. As I've mentioned, I am very scrappy.

Button.

In other news, this Pandora Christmas station sucks a big one.

I'm craving the bold hits of the 'NSync Christmas' record.

With that, I take leave from yar.

UNT.

I just wanna dance

I tend to have weird dreams when I'm sick.
Today's dreams included:

• A sex dream about my ex-boyfriend where my best friend kept trying to cock block me and I just kept trying to get rid of her so I could do the deed with Mr. Ex
• A dream where my Dad was giving me and my brother gifts and checks for lots of money because he knew his life was ending soon
• A dream that took place at my apartment and all my aunts were there but my Aunt Julie refused to talk to me because she knew I had forgotten they were supposed to visit that weekend

It wasn't very hard for me to figure out what my subconscious meant by these dreams.
I've read my own mind, so to speak.
hahahahaha.

IS THAT GUY DEAD? IS HE DEAD?
Sorry, that makes me laugh. A lot. Amy poehler is amazing.

I'm listening to lots of R&B today, craving deep-dish pizza and researching Steps on Broadway.

Just as I typed a cryptic sentence expressing my disappointment in someone, they texted me something that completely made me delete the sentence and feel guilty for what I thought.
Sometimes I'm a bitch for no reason.
Other times it's well deserved.

I hope Karma is real. Because I believe in it.
Gnite.