Tag Archives: happiness

The Great Gatsby Is… Duuuuuuh

I read the book fourteen hours before the movie, remembering suddenly around 2:30 AM, while working on this cute little number (a Fire Emblem fanfic), that my sister wanted to watch “The Great Gatsby” after her physical yesterday. I remember her telling me that when she had to read it for class, it was slow in going at first, and she was considering something wretched like Sparknotes, but she definitely liked it in the end.

I’ve yet to come across a classic or some sort of bestseller that I disliked- sure, there may have been things I’ve disliked about it. “Crash” was too dramatic, anything by Dickens is outrageously wordy, and Debussy really starts running together after about three pieces or so. Still, I had no doubt in my mind that I would enjoy reading The Great Gatsby. I ended up bringing it, and finishing it, to my sister’s appointment (I found some teenager playing Fire Emblem, too, though he was a bit antisocial… That may be putting it lightly… Maybe autism?).

I gasped variously as the people came in and out of the office, squealing here and there, and whining in despair towards the end. Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers- though I’m sure most people on WordPress has probably read many greats.

Gatsby book

I had always looked forward to The Great Gatsby. In Tennessee, American Literature is covered in the 11th grade. But when my class read the the book, I was in Vanderbilt’s psyche ward, getting over another mental breakdown. My teacher, I still remember, Mr. Viscusi said I would have liked it, since I never had problems with any of the assigned reading (I think he meant I was easily pleased).

Joining Johns Hopkins, and I felt that I would come across the book since my major allowed for room for so many electives. Surely, I would come across the book eventually- and I was close many times.

What got me was the uncanny language. It didn’t feel like it was written over eighty years ago. The language of Nick Carraway could be seen in any contemporary piece of literature, but it was without the pedantic and superfluous Special Language for dialogue that so many authors use. I felt Fitzgerald felt what that was, and made light of it, and made characters (except Tom) that convinced me that they were making light of themselves.

In this rushed reading, I was mostly in tune with the plot and the exuberance of the characters. Not so much Nick, though… Or Wilson… You know, the ones that got… *cough* carried away. Wait, is that something? *google* Hm… Carraway is a seed… So not a play on being swept up in all this?

gatsby nick What I liked most about the writing was that it definitely felt like I was being told a story. I felt that it was for my entertainment, and mine only- I know, so selfish! It radiated story first, and, as with all great stories, dozens of lovely lessons on the way.

The lesson that too many people look after themselves, even when they are helped and loved by others, even when they are comfortable. The lesson that people make mistakes, terrible mistakes, permanent mistakes. The lesson that people will choose the wrong thing when very, very, very clear of the right one- there is no grey area, there’s no talking yourself out of it. The lesson that sometimes you know you’re in the wrong and you charge ahead anyhow, knowing your cowardly ass will make it out okay.

The lesson that leading someone on is… Is a very real thing. Honestly, I thought it was a victim-blaming phrase so that men feel better about raping whomever. That you can lead someone too far, and have them hanging so goddamn dry that forty days wouldn’t be enough to resuscitate.

The lesson that not knowing everything about someone still means nothing if you love them enough, and it is still wrong to hang them dry and to kill them, and they can still be pitiful people, and I’ll hate you with your highborn, legal money because you’re a hypocrite and a coward and you, her, and the whole lot of them will never equal Gatsby! (etc.)

Gatsby- Gatsby I was certain he would turn out rotten. I was certain that they would make him rotten in the movie. More selfish, more supercilious, more hateful, more jealous, more greedy- anything to keep the sweet, despairing, pitiful, hopeful Gatsby from dying again. From me hating Daisy for drying him in that fucking pool, from me loathing Tom more than for his misogyny and cumbersome racism, and from so many others that made his funeral such a lonely affair.

Neither the book nor movie did any such thing.

The movie was so much worse as it heightened my senses with the sights and sounds almost unbearably stark. All throughout the movie, as the feeling set in that Gatsby would be gorgeous until the end, sweet until the end, hung until the end- and then I will see it in such vivid color, surrounded by a hushed crowd, my sister squeezing my hand, and the music either mournful or silent (which would be so much more terrible), how could my heart take it?

What would Daisy and Tom look like? I was so angry at them, I couldn’t even think!

And when I saw them, I knew it was real. Yes, that was how they would like. I’ve seen that look on the uncaring and comfortable, the tail-tuckers and escapers. How I despised them both.

As that scene dragged on and Tobey slept on the steps and DiCaprio rested in the casket, possibly thinking that that would be a real thing someday, I wheeled my mind through the covers played around the many scenes, the familiar melodies over vivid roaring dancing- “Is Beyonce covering Amy Winehouse?” I remember asking as I searched my mind as to whether ’20s bathing suits really looked like that. Later on, would men really object to a man wearing pink? And how I wanted someone to break the ice some more. Like, literally, the sound of that chipper breaking all that off was lovely (or that might be my iron deficiency talking. It’s getting so bad that I eat ice wherever I find it at work. If I don’t, the lymph nodes in my neck hurt so bad I can’t move, and I end up eating the ice that’s formed between two slabs of plastic-encased T-bones thawing in cool water… I might want to get that checked out).

I absolutely loved Tobey’s expression in so many scenes, scenes I read hours before where I knew poor Nick was just so caught. You know that look.

Nick expression gatsby 2

 

nick expression gatsbyPretty much identical, right? I felt the movie did the book justice. Initially, I guessed it would be a lot more boring, but they didn’t go that way at all. Ya’ll know freakin’ Jay-Z was the executive producer? Like, huh, what?

It was fantastic, great, everything that I could ever hope for. Entertainment at it’s very finest.

Your husband doesn't deserve even a mention. Gr.
Your husband doesn’t deserve even a mention. Gr.

 

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On my brother’s bed with my latest story

I like to write stories (well, I like to do a hell of a lot of things). Um, control + f Writing Block if you want to read about me and writing.. This turned out a lot longer than I intended. 

I also have bipolar disorder (and allergies and asthma and a high risk of stroke without ever smoking cigarettes). 

I went home from school in November. I think I wrote about that, and, if I didn’t, that’s not what I want to write about. I know I wrote about the comics I am reading. I’ve started rereading Tj and Amal after a marathon of recently discovered by moi Manly Men doing Manly Things (It’s absolutely hilarious). For some reason, I got really motivated to write. 

But I’ve been outta school going on three months, and because of constant procrastination and hopelessness and pride and lack of motivation- it doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to go back to school at the end of January, which busted whatever healthy mentality I had left. Over these past weeks, I beat four games (Resident Evil Mercenaries, Resident Evil 6, The Walking Dead, and Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance…Hm, pick the one that doesn’t belong!) I was really motivated to beat the last two within the last two weeks because I’ve been sleeping 13 hour days and going into my “catatonic skipping” for most of the other 11. I’m a fucking mess.

Unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to care in the least. No one else really does. Well, they’ll care if things become bad (like people do about gun control and rape culture), but most of the time it’s ignored. Not like I’m complaining- if I don’t care, why should anyone else? But it has gotten to a point where I start dwelling on that emo shit that nothing matters in the end and I’m all alone and fuck all what else. 

It’s not helping that my favorite person in the whole world (my brother) seems to have… We’ve kind of distance ourselves from each other. I’ve tried keeping up conversations with him- calling, texting, messaging on Facebook… But we’ve regressed to funny gifs passed between each other and lols. I have my pride, as I’ve said, and I don’t want to come across needy and desperate. My brother has my (what the hell- I meant his. Why did I put ‘my’?) own life to live. But to know that a relationship more precious than air can be rendered so makes me horribly bleak about the future. 

It doesn’t help that my other brother is on some fucking shtick. When I was at school, he and my father got in a fight. My brother was talking about killing himself at his school, and he was sent to a mental hospital and my dad was sent to jail for a week. That was in October. At first, I was all on my bro’s side because I was like- I understand some of your pain. I forgot how much of a little shit he is. He’s milking his situation for all it’s worth: threatening to call the police whenever Pops says boo shit to him, claiming to want to kill himself whenever he is forced to do homework or go to school or fucking apologize for some awful crap he says, and posting Facebook statuses threatening any and all who disagree with him. It’s gotten to a point where I honestly don’t even fucking like him anymore. And he’s such a shallow idiot, if he ever came across this and realized this was his sister, he’ll just be all tl;dr.

It doesn’t help that though my dad is getting the short end of the stick in the above situation, the man is still a gigantic asshole, and my bro’s behavior is his and Mama’s fault. All six of us kids have been telling our parents (since we eldest were in freakin’ elementary school) that they were spoiling him. When my dear brother and I were in high school, and my sister Statistic became such, we were afraid our youngest brother was going to turn out the same way, and we warned our parents. Dad continued to ignore us and Mama was forever like, “You were the same way when you were his age.” Now, it’s come to bite them in the ass. First of all, Mom can never say that shit to me again. When I was younger, and youngest idiot was in elementary school, I still was offended that my mother dare compare me to the likes of my younger brother- because he was a brat compared to me (I used to say that too, and she would say, “You’re a brat, too”). Those middle school years, I would remember when my dad would punch me or slap me or scream at me or call me “fucking stupid” or call me my brother’s slave or a little bitch or fight my brother. I remember in Kindergarten when I put on my favorite shirt and my dad hit me with the metal side of the belt because he was tired of it. I remember being smacked in the eye for choking on a piece of ice. I remember being hit in the stomach because I couldn’t hold my vomit when I got carsick. Yet, when I had told my parents that little bro yet again didn’t do his chores, and I did them for him so that everyone could be fine, I was the rebellious brat. 

Now that my bro is sixteen, I don’t really have to go back to that crap. When I was sixteen, I first chair in band, the only girl on the wrestling team, one of seven members of a high school chapter of a local sorority, making straight A’s, doing all the chores myself to keep a bunch of assholes happy. My bro is practically failing and hasn’t bathed in four days. 

To make me an even more terrible person (this is not sarcasm), I’m kind of glad this all happened. The assholes deserve each other. 

This whole experience hasn’t humbled my father in the least. We were playing Say Anything  (a tiny bit like Apples to Apples) and he was angry that the questions were unfair to people who didn’t know the ‘picker’ well. I.E. his wife and children. I argued that’s part of the game, and he came across so condescending and insulting, I made no efforts to make peace with him. Last night, my sister was finishing up The Walking Dead. She took a break and my dad came down from his room, thinking we were going to play something  more violent (we do play a lot of violent games. I convinced him to look at something so wonderful because The Walking Dead has a titillating amount of substance. Should have known he would ruin it… When the break was longer than he wanted- about seven minutes- he told me to play. I told him that she would miss the game. It was only after a bit of back and forth that I realized that my father hasn’t realized that the game industry has progressed beyond rather pointless coin-grabbing and dot-collecting. When I was trying to explain he suddenly got up and yelled, “Whatever, ya’ll are freakin’ pathetic” and left back to his room.

I told my mom to tell him not to call me pathetic anymore. She pats me on the goddamn arm and says something along the lines of “You know how he acts sometimes” and I told her to just make sure he doesn’t call me that anymore. Especially over something so stupid. Especially because he didn’t understand, and lashed out at me. 

Gee, I wonder why youngest bro has no sense of responsibility and ownership over the consequences of his actions. 

It doesn’t help (along those same lines) that my sister Statistic (the one with the new love of my life- my dear niece) gets drunk and/or high nearly every night, sexes up some guy on the internet nearly every night, complains about her ‘haters’ nearly every hour, and entertains/fantasizes about the thought of sending my niece to her father in New York for about a year. The guy who she couldn’t get to pay child support and so she has reaction formation about it- she made a Facebook video today to all the ‘bitches’ who try to make their ‘baby daddies’ pay child support. The guy who grabbed his daughter by the leg and shook her to make her stop crying. The guy who is a thousand of dollars in debt because he spent more on material to make Spice even as his child went hungry. The guy who made his daughter TERRIFIED of black men unless they grovel FOR WEEKS (or they always come by with candies and technology- i.e. my brother). 

Why does she entertain this idea, you may ask? She’s tired of ‘never doing anything she wants to do’ and ‘taking care of [niece]’. Mind you all her recreational activities. And let’s add her club-going and sneaking out the house- twenty fucking years old. Let’s add the fights she get into with her ‘haters’. The fights she talks about over and over and over and over to all her boy-friends. 

And whenever she gets a job- SHE’S HAD SO FREAKIN’ MANY- LIKE SEVEN OR EIGHT SINCE BEING OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL. Sorry for the caps… Not like anyone is still reading…. Well, she gets high or drunk or pissed and ends up getting fired. She always talks about joining the military. Gets a go about it for a week, two at most, and goes back to the usual stuff. It’s gotten to the point where no one thinks she’ll stick with anything… Kind of like when she started what my parents thought would be her rebellious phase, and was lying constantly so no one believed anything she says (still don’t). 

I’m not upset with her doing stupid shit. I do it enough as well. What I can’t stand is how she can’t own up to it- just like Pops and lil bro.Nothing is ever their fault and even when it obviously is, there’s something indefatigably stupid about you for pointing it out. 

It doesn’t help that my niece is her daughter. 

It doesn’t help that the other sister is on her way to becoming like me, socially wise. Things are probably going to be better for her though. She’s Christian, straight, pretty ‘girly’ in all its stereotypical connotations and concerned with things like popularity and such like that. When I asked her to help me write a Christmas card to a dying kid, she told me such kind of things make her jealous. “Over the cancer kid?” I had asked. She replied that was so. I told her that was bad. She simply shrugged and continued watching Netflix. She is the sibling I most connect to (because of anime, lack of self-esteem and certain books) but something changed then that made me lose all hope for a few days, and now makes my heart heavy. She’s overweight and has extremely high blood pressure, so that hurts her esteem. But she’s cute and funny, while I’m a hairy, bipolar, ugly bitch. 

Ewzers. 

It doesn’t help that my last brother is amazing, but because of age difference and personality differences we never really bonded as I did with my older brother, and now so far in our lives (like it’s sooooo far, haha) I don’t want to get close to him because I don’t want to be separated. 

But from my Writing Block, of which I intended to write and got way sidetracked, and making myself happier with comics, I opened up a story that I hadn’t updated, though I was so excited to share… I opened it up and anxiety welled up inside me. 

YOU CAN’T EVEN STAY IN SCHOOL! YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO FINISH THIS?

YOU’VE NEVER HAD A LOVER!

YOUR BROTHER DOESN’T CARE FOR YOU ANYMORE- HE HAS [HIM].

ISN’T THAT YOUR FIFTH DR. PEPPER?

YOUR FEET ARE CRACKED AND BLEEDING FROM SKIPPING- YOU’RE A LUNATIC.

YOU’RE STILL FANTASIZING ABOUT SOME DEUS EX MACHINA TO SAVE YOUR LIFE- HOW PATHETIC!

YOUR MONEY IS ALL GONE BECAUSE YOU SPEND IT TO FILL THAT VOID IN YOUR LIFE- THAT VOID THAT IS GOING TO GET BIGGER AND BIGGER AND BIGGER!

LOOK AT YOU, CRYING OUT FOR HELP- BUT NO ONE IS GOING TO HELP YOU. YOU’RE GOING TO COMMIT SUICIDE. EVERYONE KNOWS IT. 

YOUR FAMILY IS GOING TO GET WORSE AND WORSE AND WORSE- YOUR MOM IS GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER ANEURYSM. POPS IS GOING TO DIE OF CANCER AND YOU’RE GOING TO FEEL AWFUL. 

CHARLIE’S GOING TO BE LIKE [STATISTIC] OR END UP DEAD FROM NEGLECT. 

YOU’LL NEVER BE HAPPY. YOU’LL NEVER BE HAPPY. YOU’LL NEVER BE HAPPY. 

YOU’RE BIPOLAR AND YOU’LL NEVER BE HAPPY. 

*cue shutting down computer music*