As I become older, I am beginning to realize that life is not like a movie. While a good part of my childhood was spent engrossed in the imaginative worlds of C.S. Lewis and Dr. Seuss, I also spent a great deal of time imagining myself as a Mermaid longing to be human, a peasant girl posing as a foreign princess (Princess Cariboo, anyone?), and a war hero digging a tunnel out of a concentration camp. (Yes, you mayn’t believe it, but The Great Escape was one of my absolute favorite movies as a child. I also find it to be one of Steve McQueen’s finest works.)
It’s been said that film is a way for people to escape from their hum-drum ordinary lives. This may also be said of Facebook. You can’t tell me all those people posting pictures every second and letting all their “Friends” know exactly where they are all the time never have a sad day. What I’d like to see is some pictures of some people crying because their Grandma died, or their spouse cheated on them, or their dog got eaten by a zombified elephant. Then at least I could look at their status update and think, “Wow, they are so honest.” or at least, “Geez, they’re an ugly crier, too.”
Anyhoo, this is totally a rambling post that hardly makes sense at all.
Despite the many grueling and searching independent films that have been made, it seems that the most popular are the ever-the-same Rom Coms with the couple who hate each other, then realize their love for one another, only to quarrel and break up, and then come to the conclusion that they really are meant for each other. The only films where everybody dies in the end are the over-exposed big budget pics like Titanic and Pearl Harbor.
As much as I’d like to live in a Hollywood haze, the real truth is that sometimes people fall out of love and DON’T get back together, sometimes there are no life lessons to be taught from an untimely death, and sometimes men fall in love with beautiful women to whom they are not married. Sometimes barren people can’t adopt babies; drug addicts don’t get over their addictions, and alcoholics die because they slipped and cracked their head open on the pavement. It really doesn’t matter how big Kim Kardashian’s ass is, because as she gets older, it’s only going to get bigger. Taylor Swift still won’t be able to sing when she’s Dolly Parton’s age, and one day maybe Angelina will run out of kids to adopt. Because I have a Sparkly mind, I will continue to go through life make believing I’m just as beautiful and mysterious as Marilyn Monroe, and that what I write will someday matter to someone, even though in the back of my mind, I know no one really gives a shit. But if I’m lucky, somebody someday will say, “I wished you knew her, ’cause she was awesomesauce.” Even if I never really was a mermaid.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 