Friday, June 01, 2007

Miss Halfway

This is the part of the movie where the leading lady is at the lowest of the low, where things in her life are not going according to plan and where she feels insignificant and trampled upon. There isn't a particular moment that triggered it; just a series of unfortunate events that culminated in A Really Bad Date last night with a man that looks incredibly fugly, has the voice of a frog that's about to die, and has the conversational skills of a tadpole. In fact, it got so bad that within five minutes of being in the company of said date, I immediately texted my friend C with the message: "Bad date! Help!" to which he promptly replied, "Where are you?" and within 45 minutes, was swinging in front of Robinson's Galleria while I made my excuses to the Really Bad Date, under the pretense that the family driver was picking me up because my mom was leaving for Davao the next day. In reality, C came to my rescue, my knight in tarnished armor, and we drove to Chicken Inasal along Kalayaan Avenue where I watched him have dinner and regaled him with stories of the amazingly stupid date (how was I to know that the photograph on his profiles were him TEN FREAKIN' YEARS AGO? Or that he sounded like a FROG?) that had us rolling down the aisles with laughter. And I paid him back for rescuing me with a hot fudge sundae from McDonalds' and a big hug, which is nice.

But I digress.

Anyway, so I watched the DVD of The Holiday last night with Nanay and Louie and there was something about Kate Winslet's character that seriously rang through, and I wanted to hit my head on the wall and jump out of the window - even though yes, we just live in a two-storey house and if I jump I might just seriously maim the plants - because everything she was doing and saying were things I've said/done and there was just a point where I wanted to smack myself. But then, of course, at the end of it all, this is a movie which means that she can't go waltzing off into the sunset all by her lonesome and that she had to have the character of Jack Black to round out her life. But the thing is, I don't have a Jack Black-character in my life, much less the Jude Law-character.

*pauses for a moment of drooling*

So there. I don't know why I bother with so many men; rather, BOYS. I mean, I must have dated at least half the straight male population in the city already, which is a depressing thought in itself, and the other half of the straight male population is either single by choice, or isn't really interested in someone like me, since I am the complete opposite of the "simple, kind" girl - I am dramatic and complicated, so tough shit. But yeah, there's a part of me that hates the fact that I am so into looking for a love life of any kind that everything else kind of falls into second place, which I know is wrong and should be stopped at the nearest opportunity, but also at the same time, I can't help the compulsion because there's this terrible, terrible fear of dying by my lonesome. And because I'm an incurable romantic. I should be shot.

I suppose the part about the movie that really hit home was her entire monologue somewhere in the middle of the film. I want to repost it in its entirety because I find it just brilliant.

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.

Agh, Stupid movie. *facepalm*

No comments:

Post a Comment

This is a comment box. It is for comments. Please do not leave your Giant Squid of Anger here.