Revelations

College boys are just that--college boys. I'm over you, college boys. Also, father knows best, and according to my father, I should be dating men who are, at the youngest, in their late 20s. I promise to keep y'all updated.

An Unlikely Pairing

So these past weeks have been fraught with stress of all sorts. My prescription: tea and movies! I recently watched a couple that are as absurd a pairing as could be, but I did quite enjoy them both and will thus give you a blurb.

Firstly, I watched "Tangled", a recent Disney flick that appropriates the grim story of Rapunzel. I'm usually not into the animated deal, and although I see the epic Pixar movies eventually, I'm never rushing to see them in theaters. Anyway, "Tangled" made its way to the recently added "instant view" flicks and I was in the mood for Disney. Ideally, I wanted to watch Cinderella, but they don't have any of the good ones on instant play. "Tangled" was super cute, as expected. The best character is Maximus, the horse, so that says something about the overall quality of the movie, but whatever. If you're babysitting, or cold and sad in bed, or just want to pass some time, you'll enjoy yourself.

Ok. Then I watched Tarantino's notorious "Pulp Fiction". Being the self-proclaimed movie enthusiast that I am, I felt pretty embarrassed that, as a 21-year-old in 2011, I had never seen the movie all the way through. Now I am shamed no more, and join the cult! It's a freaking fantastic flick, from the soundtrack to the vignette structure to the postmodern content. The violence is extreme and awesome and punctuated and stylized, and "Pulp Fiction" neither lacks anything nor exceeds in anything. It's just all-around wonderful. Samuel L. Jackson and Uma Thurman were definitely my favorite actors, the discussion of the 'royale with cheese' was my favorite dialogue, and the part where Butch kicks rapist ass is my favorite scene. Don't be an embarrassment like I was; watch it.

The Piano Teacher (2001)

I almost decided against reviewing this film because watching it made me feel so ill that I had to lure myself out of my upset state with wine and Christmas carols, and I thought writing about it might make me feel horrid again. This may sound silly, but I am not joking. Some movies out there are truly, deeply upsetting, and this is one of them. (But the wine and singing helped and now I feel able to cope.)

Before I watch a movie I often check it out on IMDb or rottentomatoes.com to see how it's fared with the critics. I spotted a particular review of "The Piano Teacher" whose writer felt that to watch this movie was to "stare into a gaping wound". I can't say that I don't agree. There are some movies out there that are disturbing and perverse simply for the sake of being disturbing and perverse (you may have happened to read my review of "Incendies" which I totally called out for this very reason). I haven't quite yet decided whether "The Piano Teacher" is one of them, but I am definitely considering it.

This French/Austrian film stars Isabelle Huppert, who, in 2001, is well into her "femme d'une certaine age" phase (what you say in France when you don't want to say "old" or "middle-aged" when referring to a woman). It tells the story of a highly respected piano teacher (played by Huppert) who meets a young fellow and the relationship that develops. I approached this film as a dramatic romance, but was disappointed to find that the only real drama came from shocking the viewer with scenes of extensive sadomasochism.

To make a good film about sadomasochism can't be easy. The only other film I've seen that tackles the subject is "The Secretary" (2002), which I really enjoyed. "The Secretary" and "The Piano Teacher" have common elements: both focus on women who seek men to sate their urge to be dominated. Both women use self-harm and mutilation to cope with complicated, dysfunctional family relationships. For some reason, though, "The Secretary" worked for me, while "The Piano Teacher" didn't. Perhaps my thoughts on the subject will become distilled with more time. For now, my only explanation for my aversion to this film, apart from the glaring violence and abuse it unapologetically depicts, is the ambiguous fate of the heroine. With a plot line so severe, so in-your-face, the final scene felt too 'hands-off' for me, and I feel a bit cheated after being put through the emotional pain of watching what I did. The performances were excellent, however; Huppert was so raw and pained that I had to pause the film four or five times to allow myself to calm down before I could continue. It definitely does not shy away from anything, and does not approach the Euro-trashiness and pretension of "Ma Mere" (also starring Huppert), but apart from disturb me on a basic level, it didn't do a whole lot.

Almond Butter Cookies

Tonight, in the midst of flustered term paper writing and thesis plotting, Jenny and I decided to bake some wonderful winter cookies. Our housemate Laura had recently received a large shipment of small kiss-shaped chocolates from her parents and wanted us to help her consume them, and Jen and I thought it'd be great to incorporate them into some cute baked good.

We settled on almond butter cookies, and worked off of this recipe: http://aspicyperspective.com/2011/03/almond-butter-chocolate-chunk-cookies.html, with several alterations:

- we halved the recipe because we didn't have enough almond butter, and to compensate for the yield we just made the cookies smaller and more adorable

- instead of chocolate in chopped form, we settled on a kiss on top of each bite-size cookie

- we reduced baking time to 9 minutes instead of 12 because a) the cookies were smaller, b) our oven has no mercy, and c) we like 'em gooey.

The batter was incredible, and the cookies followed suit. I usually don't like to mix my savory and sweet, but the salty kick in these pastries is really unique and pleasant.

I can die happy

A three-year-old child whom I babysit on occasion and play with for several hours weekly at my shift at the preschool said the darndest thing the other night. According to his mother, at their Thanksgiving dinner, she was attempting to explain to him the meaning of the holiday.

"I'm thankful for you and Poppa," she offered, "what are you thankful for?"

"Evelina," he answered. She said he proceeded to name some delicacies such as pizza. But my name came first.

And I can now die happy.

Morning, world

Thanks to my body still apparently living in East Coast Time, I have been waking up one to two hours before my alarm clock every morning (although to be fair, my alarm is set for 9:10 am every morning. Will I ever be this free again?!) My favorite things to do upon waking up is to stretch in bed, make lots of noises, and feel the incredible warmth and comfort of my bed. Seriously, it is heaven on a box spring. Anyway, I usually make myself some tea, grab my computer and catch up on some of my favorite blogs.

This morning I came upon a blog with which I am completely in love. It is called Raptitude and, according to its author, is all about getting better at being human. Everyone should check it out. It is incredibly well-written, insightful, and down to earth. http://www.raptitude.com/ Enjoy!

Snuggle Time

December swiftly approaches, and Walla Walla promises to be cold until at least the end of February, but for some reason I feel as if I've paid my dues to cold weather already. I am now in the midst of accepting the fact that many weeks of possibly sub-zero temperature await me; weeks during which walking the five minutes to class will seem positively unbearable, and the only sane thing is to snuggle in bed.

I am a big snuggler. I love to snuggle, cuddle, spoon, hug, you name it, more than the average person. And as the winter envelops this town, my hunger for snuggling grows and grows. Sadly, snuggling, if it occurs these days, is short-lived and ultimately unfulfilling; housemates and friends are encumbered with term papers and exams, my cat is in Seattle, and the boy I long to snuggle with is far, far away.

SO. I bought myself a candle. That's right--I went candle shopping in Walla Walla today in hopes of finding a warm, calming scent to pervade my bedroom as I fight my way through the final, at times very lonely 16 days of my last fall semester of Whitman College. I settled on a soy candle from Studio Opal, a boutique in downtown Walla Walla that is vastly overpriced and seems to carry lots of Anthropologie rejects. Despite this glowing review, Studio Opal was the only place that carried what I was looking for (freaking Macy's had ONE candle. ONE. It was a disturbing Christmas blend.) Put on your wool socks, climb under your comforter, and light those candles, fellow lonely snugglers. We'll make it through!