also alternatively titled "reasons why I went to the midnight premier in full costume" and "reasons why I am probably going to be seeing this movie for the third time this weekend".
1. This is it.
This might officially mark the end of your childhood. After a decade of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, it's coming to an end. You've aged with them, grown with them, and now you're reaching a point where there isn't any more. Harry has the horcruxes that he needs to defeat. You've just got to try to make it through this last half of the last movie without bawling.
2. You didn't go to the midnight release of the book for nothing.
Four years ago, the summer after you turned 13, you pulled your first all nighter. Curled up in your living room, you read for six straight hours, still wearing the radish earrings that you made for your Luna Lovegood costume. If you don't watch this movie, this thirteen year old will bite you and then post some sub par angst poetry on deviantart.
3. Severus Snape. Alan Rickman. Really voluminous hair.
need I say more?
4. Remember that crush that you secretly had on Neville Longbottom?
Oh yeah, bet you didn't know that I knew about that one. (or was it really just me? because I had a huge crush on Neville Longbottom.) He takes the DA over, protects some first years, and then becomes a total babe. Bet you didn't see that one coming when he was lifted onto that chandelier in second year Defense Against the Dark Arts class by cornish pixies, did you?
5. You're in good company.
A group of twenty carolers came into my theater singing the mysterious ticking noise and songs from A Very Potter Musical. A girl twelve rows behind me was wearing the same pair of spectrospecs as I was. Harry Potter pick-up lines were being dropped like there was no tomorrow. (is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?) Best of all, this is a group that knows you. They're the socially awkward masses, and they won't judge you if you leave the theater just a little bit teary eyed.
So go ahead. go hide in a movie theater for a little while. watch harry potter. if you get hungry, just turn around. I'll be the one in the row behind you with a bag of red vines.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
new places to find me!
oh my, would you look at that? what in the world could that be?
http://www.etsy.com/shop/pisthelimitlooks like a link to a bunch of pictures taken by some geeky kid. wonder who that is?
Sunday, July 17, 2011
wire wontons
It's summer. The temperature isn't uncomfortable, but any movement provokes the humidity to crawl around you and cling to you with a ferocious and one-sided love. There's nothing much to do, and the idle warm days turn into idle warm nights until the passage of time is barely noticed at all. The sun has set, but the diffused glow shines down my driveway and casts lazy half shadows on the ground. I'm standing outside the back door of the house, watching the moths and the other indistinguishable insects fluttering around the timed light above my neighbor's door.
I've got a roll of wire screening in my hands along with a pair of scissors, and a sheet of twist ties between my lips. Standing in front of the tree, I look upwards and take count. This is the fifth summer after we have planted the Asian pear tree, and the pears have never ripened. Although it produces more than a hundred gumball sized fruit every year, squirrels tend to eat all of them once they exceed the size of a golf ball.
It's an easy enough job, I try to imagine. Outwitting a squirrel shouldn't be difficult. I cut a square from the netting and hold it around one of the dozen remaining fruits, trying to think of ways to secure it. A couple of bars run through my head of an anonymous song, and I hum it again and again and again. Folding and refolding the screen square, I do my best to cover the fruit. I settle for a familiar shape, bringing the corners of the square together to form a wonton. I secure it with twist ties and pinch the edges together.
As I begin working on the third wire screen cover, I let my mind wander. Although it's summer, I'm thinking about school, and about college. This is it, I think. There is an award winning college essay written in this moment, and I just have to figure it out. Here I am, standing in my driveway in the light from my kitchen window, and I am composing topic sentences and paragraph transitions that I will never actually use. I prick my fingers a couple of times on the loose wires, but I keep threading the twist ties and folding the screen.
Another metal dumpling down. Here's an analogy for my biracial identity. I bend down to the next fruit and get to work. As I'm folding the next square, I feel the bite of a mosquito on the back of my leg. If I swat at it now, I'd drop the little makeshift cage that I've spent the last five minutes forming, and I'd have to start over. I ignore the growing itch, and fold the wire into shape. Here's an example of my determination to finish the tasks that I've set. I stand back to look over the tree, and to admire my work. Tidy looking wontons hang at the edges of branches. It's a peculiar sight, but it'll do the job. If a squirrel can get through this, it deserves the fruit. Here's an example of my out of the box thinking.
It has been gradually growing darker, and soon it's too dark to see the top branches of the tree that I've been working on. I light up my wristwatch, and across the yard a firefly echoes my false bioluminescence. It's late, so I gather my things and go inside. I put the things back, the twine and the twist ties into the drawer, the scissors in the jar by the phone, and the spare wire screen back into the closet with the gardening gloves and gardening supplies. Whatever great admissions essay hides in this moment that has just passed, I will let it stay mostly hidden. After all, it's summer.
I've got a roll of wire screening in my hands along with a pair of scissors, and a sheet of twist ties between my lips. Standing in front of the tree, I look upwards and take count. This is the fifth summer after we have planted the Asian pear tree, and the pears have never ripened. Although it produces more than a hundred gumball sized fruit every year, squirrels tend to eat all of them once they exceed the size of a golf ball.
It's an easy enough job, I try to imagine. Outwitting a squirrel shouldn't be difficult. I cut a square from the netting and hold it around one of the dozen remaining fruits, trying to think of ways to secure it. A couple of bars run through my head of an anonymous song, and I hum it again and again and again. Folding and refolding the screen square, I do my best to cover the fruit. I settle for a familiar shape, bringing the corners of the square together to form a wonton. I secure it with twist ties and pinch the edges together.
As I begin working on the third wire screen cover, I let my mind wander. Although it's summer, I'm thinking about school, and about college. This is it, I think. There is an award winning college essay written in this moment, and I just have to figure it out. Here I am, standing in my driveway in the light from my kitchen window, and I am composing topic sentences and paragraph transitions that I will never actually use. I prick my fingers a couple of times on the loose wires, but I keep threading the twist ties and folding the screen.
Another metal dumpling down. Here's an analogy for my biracial identity. I bend down to the next fruit and get to work. As I'm folding the next square, I feel the bite of a mosquito on the back of my leg. If I swat at it now, I'd drop the little makeshift cage that I've spent the last five minutes forming, and I'd have to start over. I ignore the growing itch, and fold the wire into shape. Here's an example of my determination to finish the tasks that I've set. I stand back to look over the tree, and to admire my work. Tidy looking wontons hang at the edges of branches. It's a peculiar sight, but it'll do the job. If a squirrel can get through this, it deserves the fruit. Here's an example of my out of the box thinking.
It has been gradually growing darker, and soon it's too dark to see the top branches of the tree that I've been working on. I light up my wristwatch, and across the yard a firefly echoes my false bioluminescence. It's late, so I gather my things and go inside. I put the things back, the twine and the twist ties into the drawer, the scissors in the jar by the phone, and the spare wire screen back into the closet with the gardening gloves and gardening supplies. Whatever great admissions essay hides in this moment that has just passed, I will let it stay mostly hidden. After all, it's summer.
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