He's Just Not That Into Me
I saw He's Just Not That Into You today. This whole week, I've been reading comments like "Do women, like, really need a movie/book to figure out whether or not a guy likes her, haha, I am so damn clever!" You always know they think they're clever because they're the ones who post comments on snarky celebrity gossip blogs (see: Gawker, Best Week Ever (ok so that's less snarky and just plain comedic gold)) without checking the other comments first to see if they would be repeating what someone else said practically word for word. These people think they are the wittiest of the witty; they should be doing stand-up or at least VH1 could hire them to be a panelist on I Love the Future.
Really, though, it was not an affirmation of men and their ways, and it certainly wasn't meant to purely ridicule women. At least the movie wasn't. In typical chick-flick fashion, the couples you're rooting for end up together, and the ones you aren't rooting for don't. Oops. SPOILER ALERT? Whatever, it's a book. There's no such thing as a spoiler when it comes to film adaptations. The institution of marriage wins, the player settles down, and the adulterer gets thrown out. So, the ladies can quit their quips about how derogatory it all is even though they fully well planned on attending an opening day showing.
Anyway, whatever, it was good, perfect for a girl on her period. Wilson Cruz, aka Rickie Vasquez from My So-Called Life, has a small role in it and that should be reason enough. It does, however, remind me that I will be that girl staying home on a Saturday night, watching some quintessential movie from her adolesence, reciting the dialogue word for word. That is my life. I am in NEW YORK CITY and I am sitting at home catching up on Psych. I should be out, doing something you're supposed to do when you're 23. I should be... I don't know, getting drunk and stumbling down St. Mark's Place and making fun of the "punk" rock kids begging for beer. You can't do that shit alone, though. So, how to make friends in a city like this?
What I am doing, I guess, is throwing myself into the public health field. This has been one of the most active weeks since I was 18. I was accepted as an intern at Mount Sinai (WHAT) Adolescent Health Center. I was also accepted as a summer intern for UNAIDS (WHAT) in Cairo. Starting next week, I will be a member of the New York City Dept. of Health's "Team Epi", a group of like-minded volunteers the DOH calls on for assistance during outbreak investigations. Seriously? Damn. Also by next week, I will start tutoring kids of low SES backgrounds, which also means I will truly and officially be gainfully employed. AND THEN, I am so going to be the cool substitute teacher. AND THEN I will write a screenplay; think Half Nelson without the crack or Broken Social Scene, but perhaps plus M83 and some other conflict? On the topic of screenplays, I've had a truly amazing idea for one of those campy horror flicks everyone shells out $12 to see on opening night. It probably won't be like Bloody Valentine 3D; I imagine more of a cult following, but it's going to be grand. And I guess all of THAT will be enough to take my mind off of more trivial, hormone-driven things.
Really, though, it was not an affirmation of men and their ways, and it certainly wasn't meant to purely ridicule women. At least the movie wasn't. In typical chick-flick fashion, the couples you're rooting for end up together, and the ones you aren't rooting for don't. Oops. SPOILER ALERT? Whatever, it's a book. There's no such thing as a spoiler when it comes to film adaptations. The institution of marriage wins, the player settles down, and the adulterer gets thrown out. So, the ladies can quit their quips about how derogatory it all is even though they fully well planned on attending an opening day showing.
Anyway, whatever, it was good, perfect for a girl on her period. Wilson Cruz, aka Rickie Vasquez from My So-Called Life, has a small role in it and that should be reason enough. It does, however, remind me that I will be that girl staying home on a Saturday night, watching some quintessential movie from her adolesence, reciting the dialogue word for word. That is my life. I am in NEW YORK CITY and I am sitting at home catching up on Psych. I should be out, doing something you're supposed to do when you're 23. I should be... I don't know, getting drunk and stumbling down St. Mark's Place and making fun of the "punk" rock kids begging for beer. You can't do that shit alone, though. So, how to make friends in a city like this?
What I am doing, I guess, is throwing myself into the public health field. This has been one of the most active weeks since I was 18. I was accepted as an intern at Mount Sinai (WHAT) Adolescent Health Center. I was also accepted as a summer intern for UNAIDS (WHAT) in Cairo. Starting next week, I will be a member of the New York City Dept. of Health's "Team Epi", a group of like-minded volunteers the DOH calls on for assistance during outbreak investigations. Seriously? Damn. Also by next week, I will start tutoring kids of low SES backgrounds, which also means I will truly and officially be gainfully employed. AND THEN, I am so going to be the cool substitute teacher. AND THEN I will write a screenplay; think Half Nelson without the crack or Broken Social Scene, but perhaps plus M83 and some other conflict? On the topic of screenplays, I've had a truly amazing idea for one of those campy horror flicks everyone shells out $12 to see on opening night. It probably won't be like Bloody Valentine 3D; I imagine more of a cult following, but it's going to be grand. And I guess all of THAT will be enough to take my mind off of more trivial, hormone-driven things.
This entry was posted by Soma, on
8.2.09.
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