I need to have a good grumble. So that's what I'm going to do.

I'm feeling awfully blue and discouraged at the moment. My dad has a kidney infection, and is constantly in pain, and there's nothing I can do but thank God that it wasn't cancer like I feared and be grateful for the medication. I don't know if I'm going to be able to go to college next year. I'm some odd-twenty pounds overweight, and it's all my fault. My skin has broken out into horrendous spots all over my face, my teeth are overlarge, and my hair lies limp against my head. My nails are ragged, my heart is sore, and I feel fat. I've had at least three people accuse me of being insenstive in the past few hours. My sister's being a brat. The Others wasn't in at the movie store. It was a languid heat today, and I spent all of the day cleaning up and fighting a losing battle with the computer. My brother has a mild form of OCD, and it was flaring up again. I feel useless, selfish, broken, indolent, and just plain exhausted.

It's at times like these when I pull out Heartsongs, by Mattie Stepanek, and read his poetry. He's a twelve year old genius who has muscular dystrophy, and his work is so, so beautiful. It doesn't fill me with a quiet despair that I will never be able to write like that, but inspires me to share the beauty I see with the world. He makes me weep, laugh, pray, and dance, all at once, and I feel slightly ashamed of myself for letting things trouble me too much. Here-- I'll show you what I mean.

On Being Thankful

Dear God,
I was going to thank You tonight
For a beautiful sunrise,
That was pink behind the fog down the hill,
And for a wonderful rainbow,
That I ran under pointing to
All my favorite colors,
And for such a great sunset,
That sparkled orange across the water.
I was going to thank You tonight
For all these special gifts,
Except none of them happened.
But do You know what?
I still love You, God,
And I have lots of things
That I can thank You for tonight,
Even if you didn't give those
Very special gifts to me today.
It's okay, God,
Because I'll look for them all again,
When my tomorrow comes.
Amen.

WARNING: This post contains spoilers of Star Wars: Episode II. They have not been separated, so if you wish to avoid spoilers, I would recommend that you not read this. Instead of letting me spoil your fun, I would suggest you get your ass out there and see the movie now! :)

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Tired, headachy, and a little weary of school and life in general, I came home from the AP Psychology exam, mumbling assents to any questions. As my dad and I pulled up, I noticed Adam's car in front of my house, and he had this big, silly grin on his face. I raised my eyebrow doubtfully. Adam had probably gotten a new computer or a copy of Starcraft for me, something wonderfully geeky but not really condusive to the blue mood I was indulging in.

I was wrong. With some mysterious words intended to increase my suspense, he pulled out his wallet, and showed me a small slip of paper-- tickets to the seven o'clock showing of Star Wars. I stared at them with bated breath, and then glanced up at him, my jaw dropping the proverbial length. Tickets. To Star Wars. On the opening day.

I can think of a few things that have brought me more joy than that. A huge teddy bear. A doll. Flowers. But not many. It was absolutely the sweetest thing that had been done for me in a while, and I love Adam for it. Suffice it to say that both of us were delighted, and we shrieked like a pair of five years olds in possession of the coolest toy ever placed into small hands.

But, I digress. Several hours, a good game of SW Trivial Pursuit, and some popcorn later, we found ourselves comfortably situated in the fifth row of the theatre. The trailers passed by nicely, and I'm looking forward to Matrix 2 and 3 with a good deal of anticpation. And then the Lucasfilm logo, all green misted and shot through with silver, appeared on the flickering black screen. We clapped, we cheered, and generally made fools of ourselves.

Now, you have to understand that Star Wars is a cultural phenomenon that I give into with a vengance. When those dark yellow words came up on screen, I was pleased. Very much so. And unlike The Phantom Menace, the movie gave justice to those classic words.

My first impression was a good one as the camera panned up into the established shot of starry space. The liquid grace of the Naboo ship was even more beautiful than in TPM, and I was stunned by the quality of the visual effects. Delicate puffs of air and grease stains made me forget that this was CGI. I was immediately captured into the viewer's trap that turns me away from reality while firmly convinced that I was in this fantasy that surrounded me. The explosion on Padme's ship jerked me away from complacency, and I was stunned to see her decoy lying on the ground, her hair and skin burned away from her. Natalie Portman's performance was, if anything, beautiful. She portrayed Padme as a dedicated and passionate young woman just coming into her life as she discovers love in the person she's meant to be with. She lent crededence to Padme's actions like no one else could-- and her costumes! Lovely. But I'll discuss those later on. Back to the film.

After that inital shock, I was pleased to see Palpatine is in his state of decay. The dark side is eating at him, but he seems content with the price he has to pay. Jimmy Smits' brief role as Bail Organa was wonderful, and I'm looking forward to seeing him in Episode III. I was delighted to see Samuel L. Jackson return with a stronger Mace Windu-- he was one of my favorite characters in Episode I. Jar Jar's role in the story was surprisingly credible, and I found his brief moments of slapstick comedy to be funny. Perhaps it's the quantity of Jar Jar that matters. It also didn't hinder my opinion of Padme when she cuts his long-winded speech short.

My first glimpse of Anakin and Obi-Wan satisfied any fears I might have had about their characters. Aside from the fact that now I rather fancy both Ewan McGregory and Hayden Christenson, they fufilled their parts wonderfully. Ewan's Obi-Wan was nicely developed, and the mix of patience and lack of tact that he possessed was perfect. I laughed with the rest of the audience when he did his trademark mind trick. His dry sense of humor that enlivened the first was present, and I really enjoyed his reaction to Dooku and when he chews out Anakin. Anakin and Obi-Wan's relationship was all that was to be desired. Hayden Christenson's turn as the edgy, passionate, and moody Anakin pleased even me, who was looking to find something to criticize in his performance. Goodness knows that Jake Lloyd left me with a pessimistic view of the future of Anakin.

I for one liked the love story, for all of its stilted dialogue. I've heard a lot of criticism of this aspect, but I almost wished there was more. For heaven's sake, these are two teenagers in love. You can't really expect profound statments from a nineteen year old in love. I thought it was sweet, and the chemistry between Natalie and Hayden was incredible. I bought their falling in love. Somehow the relationship made sense to me. And their marriage at the end left me with only one desire-- to see more of Padme's wedding gown! A true confession from a hopeless romantic. I liked the sand line.

Aside from that, the story was great. The editing was (finally) done well, and I never really got bored with the pacing. Which really says something for the movie, because it takes something special to keep my eyes on the screen all the time. I have a limited attention span for films. The two plots were equally interesting and appealing, and the locations were fabulous. I was pleased with the amount of time spared for Dooku and Jango Fett, who managed to maintain grey characters for most of the film. I never like totally bad villains. They have to have some redemptive quality or I don't buy them. The links to the original trilogy placed in the movie really pleased me, and my mind kept going back to the first three. George Lucas has finally figured out what he's doing.

I'm geting sleepy, for I'll finish up with Natalie Portman's costumes. They were so beautiful. Even though it was rather on the revealing side, the lake dress was gorgeous. It was very delicate and sensual at the same time, and the way the gossamar chiffon flowed out behind her was just perfect. Her leather dress fit the scene perfectly, and the way the candlelight shone softly on her scarf of glittering beads and caught her eyes was just gorgeous. Gone with Kabuki makeup, thankfully. The earth tones dress that she wears in the meadow/waterfall scene was also lovely-- very light and springlike. I want her wardrobe. Or at least something like it.

Oh, yes-- one last word. Yoda.

There's something impossibly tragic about diamonds. The way they glitter smoothly on in sea of black velvet while pearled tears fall, and people die inside while existing within empty shells, and we still consider them beautiful. I like things to fade. Flowers wilt, gold and silver tarnish, and we all grow old. For something to be truly lovely, I think it has to be less someday.

Hindi Sad Diamonds is just haunting. The moment Satine rises onto stage, and her bittersweet soprano resonates through the air, my heart aches for her. (I'm fully aware that these are not real people, but for the sake of dramatics, let's forget reality for the moment) They carry her down like an untouchable goddess-- and she is in that scene! She may wear a copy of the elaborate diamonds that Duke closed around her neck, but she is above him then. And she always will be. That's what real love does for you. Even if we all lose our charms in the end.

I've just rewound and watched HSD for the third time. This song fascinates me, and I'm not entirely sure why. She is dying as she dances on that stage. Not just from the consumption that is feeding on her body, but from those around her who are taking her soul. She lies prostrate as they lay the diamonds on her neck, and then she moves slowly into the light, knowing that her breaths left are few, and she doesn't even care. How could you die like that, knowing that you had saved the one you loved by murdering their soul? It's so empty, and the film is brilliant. The lighting, a pure azure blue shines coldly on the stage, reflecting only the jewels she wears. Her body looks wan and pale, as if the diamonds are the only things still holding her up. She's an empty shell on that stage. Even the way she moves is mechanical, the pulsing of her torso and the stiffness of her legs as the raise the goddess onto the sacrifical altar. And the way it ends is just chilling. "She is mine." Could you imagine someone seeking to own you both body and soul?

Kiss. . .hand.
Diamonds best friend.
Kiss. . . grand.
Diamonds best friend.
Men. . .cold.
Girls . . .old.
And we all lose our charms in the end.

I think I'll stop before I let my overactive imagination terrify me into sleeping with the lights on. And if, by any chance , you think that I'm a crazy old bat for reading so deeply into the film, don't even bother trying. I mean it-- don't anger me. I'm ready to pull my "A Treatise on Sense and Sensibility: Why I Believe Marianne Dashwood is an Appropriate Reflection of a Teenage Girl Dating Today." Just try me-- ma'am.

I walk like one in a dream. Perhaps because most of the time, my heart is elsewhere, touching places unexplored by my childlike hands. Words of poetry and wisdom, sometimes mine, sometimes not, linger on my lips like the stain from a crushed rose. Bells chime sadly from the music on my computer as a edged voice sings of pain and love. Strange how music touches your spirit and wraps itself integratingly around it.

Today I was sitting in the back room of the class where I aide, listening to the waves of sound that drifted back to my unhallowed sanctuary, and thought about my future. I'm going to college, of course, but I'm going to do things there. I'm going to take photography, art history, writing, dance, and anything else that captures my whimsical fancy. But more than anything else, I want to take a semester abroad in London. I found out the other day that the college I'm going to offers that, and I'm going to snatch the opportunity lest it slip away. I refuse to get my bachelor's without having traveled to London. I've always said that I'm not getting married before I get a chance to do what I want to do. And I'm not. I reaffirmed that the other day while talking with my friend Tiffany. I want to see the cathedrals and museums in France, Italy, and England. I'm going to stroll into a Parisian cafe with a slim loaf of bread and a notebook to write in, and gaze up at the Eiffel Tower with the electric lights reflected in my eyes. I'm going to make myself sick to my stomach by sampling the wares of a sushi bar in Tokyo, and walk around Rome's forum and find the sculptures that I've seen a hundred times on slides.

Just watch me. I'm going to stretch these wings I've been too afraid to use. I have the heart and spirit, now I have to take a risk and step outside into the rain and walk towards the horizion. To do otherwise would be to fail in the sight of myself and in the sight of God. I believe that God gives us the flame, but we have to carry it out to the places where fires burn. I'm going to tell my stories, and read everyone else's, and try to touch someone's heart so I can look on life's twists with contented eyes and not regret. I'm going to see the world with the eyes of a poet.