My god, I love this show

On Hollywood loss

I am so freaking upset about Heath Ledger! I'm also so disgusted by the photographers waiting for his body to be rolled out on a stretcher.

I've been a fan since he sang "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" in 10 Things I Hate About You. I even, against all my better judgement, really enjoyed (and own) A Knight's Tale. I believe it falls into the guilty pleasure category discussed in a previous post.

From The Patriot to Monster's Ball to Brokeback Mountain, Heath was undeniably talented. Make fun of me if you will, but I am truly sad about his passing. I feel so terrible for his family and friends, especially his little daughter. I know how awful it is to have someone taken from you so suddenly and with no warning. I wish I had something more eloquent to say, but I'm actually at a loss for words.

Wah!

Persepolis

I can't remember the last time I saw a hand-drawn animation film at the theater (the beginning of Enchanted does not count; yes I saw that movie, and no, I'm not ashamed). Persepolis is a rendering of a graphic novel that chronicles a young girl's coming of age during the Iranian revolution.

It's funny how you don't remember how effective animation can be as a medium. I'm sure the story would have been effective as live action but something about the simple black and white drawings made it much more affecting. The drawings were so cute you wanted to pinch the little girls face and yet the images were telling a not-so-cute story where the main character learns to deal with death, oppression, love and heartbreak.

In short, I really enjoyed it. I know so little of that period's history that it was like a history lesson that I wouldn't fall asleep to (ahem, Mr. Walker's AP history class). Inside the history lesson was a story of a girl who I could actually identify with. Even if she chooses to rock out to Iron Maiden while I prefer the dulcet tones of Mr. J. Timberlake.

On me being a sucker

I'm a sucker. Acceptance is the first step toward healing, or so they say. So I've accepted my suckerdom for the time being.

I am a sucker for what the industry calls romantic comedy. Or "chick flick." This is why I will never be Anthony Lane or Lisa Schwarzbaum and I've accepted that it is one of the roadblocks on my path to film writing greatness. I hold my opinion of film to a very high standard, but I do buy into the "guilty pleasure" film—it's mediocre at best and you know it's mediocre but you still can't help wanting to watch it over and over again. In the romantic film genre, there is genius (Before Sunset, Shakespeare in Love), completely ridiculous (View From the Top, Heartbreakers) and then there is "guilty pleasure" (Chasing Liberty, The Holiday).

Tonight I was invited to a free screening of Definitely, Maybe. I had seen the trailer and dismissed it as fluff, especially considering my serious dislike of Ryan Reynolds. But I couldn't turn down a free flick when Carolyn invited me. So with some reservations I watched the romance unfold.

It was predictable (the boy finds a used book with an important inscription in order to woo girl, hello! We've seen that, it's called Serendipity and it stars a much more charming actor[freaking Lloyd Dobler himself!] then you, Mr. Reynolds). But did I tear up at the end? Yes! I smiled, I giggled, I swooned. What can I say? Give me New York, indie love songs and a sweet kiss on a bench and I'm sold.

On celebrating my emergence from the womb

I was of two minds about my birthday this year. In the scheme of things 24 is relatively unimpressive, and considering how much has changed since my last birthday in this city, part of me felt like not celebrating at all. A few weeks ago Time Out New York had run a cover story on party bars. My roommates and I had vowed to try some of these out, so I thought there was no better occasion then my birth to get our dance on.

To compound the pressure of fun, we had a house full of visiting boys. Cichelli's boyfriend Nick and Aggen's boyfriend Jared were both staying with us, so I was determined for everyone to have good New York night. What is more New York then taxidermy decor? My thoughts exactly. So the restaurant and bar choice followed this theme. We dined at Old Devil Moon, a tiny southern find in the Lower East Village, which had plenty of delights to please all the vegetarians in my life. We danced at Home Sweet Home, a subterranean dive bar with cement floors, grandma's chandeliers, amazing dance tracks and the requisite stuffed lion.

All in all a good night, especially considering some of us (myself included) were exhausted from cheering on the Jayhawks the night before. But we danced it up real nice and made it home in one piece. I got the feeling that most of my entourage (and those who sent e-mails, texts and facebook wishes) were happy that I was born, which is really what celebrating a birthday is all about. So I guess this was really about saying thank you to all who wished me well on Jan. 4.

Best dressed: Aggen and Jared in complimenting Garfield and Odie sweaters
Best dancer: Jared (what a machine)
Most fun 30-year olds: Naomi and Dustin
Most embarrassed: Dave (only when I made him put on the Garfield sweater)

On losing my blog virginity

Much thought has gone into the creation of this space. I'll admit, I used to judge pages such as this. Then I found myself obsessively reading my friends blogs (including dan's, adrienne's, ted's, paige's and nick's newly created space), so I figured perhaps they were a valuable and entertaining way to spend one's time.

Then I realized that the writing career that I long for (the one where I get to write about film, travel, pop culture or just about anything that interests me) was not going to happen while at my current job. So in order to keep my writing mind sharp and my fingers nimble, here I am, ready to blog away.