bohemian hooligans

i took my mom downtown tonight - it was fun. we saw becoming jane at the fine arts theatre and then went to old europe, because she'd never been before, and i couldn't be related to someone who had never been to old europe.

but, the movie . . .

*sigh*

there is nothing more attractive than a man in love. which is wonderful, if he is in love with you, but it's also slightly problematic if he's in love with someone else. or if he happens to be in a movie.

i usually don't allow myself the nonsense that is having a celebrity crush, but james mcavoy has ridiculously wonderful blue eyes, not to mention the cocky smile that seems to be my repeated and unfailing downfall. he's also from scotland, and i have decided that a scottish accent is by far the most amazing accent a man can have.

and i just watched him act very much in love for two hours.

gah.

i got my hair cut today - it's short, just like i wanted (it was a very spur-of-the-moment kind of hair cut), and reminiscent of julia stiles in the bourne movies, if i do say so myself. although i definitely don't have her nose. or her likeness, in general, except for the fact that both of our heads are round and now we have the same hair cut. which i like very much.

the terriblewonderful thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you achieve things in love that some people never do, but you also have to wait a lot longer for those things to actually develop. and in the meantime, the daydreaming is quite crippling. especially when you lay it on other people - which you do often, because it's what you believe.

don't i sound haughty! like i'm a step above just because i'm a frustratingly dedicated idealist.

that might just mean i'm naive by choice, yes? but i don't think it's that. i think it's that i view the world through swatches of color and bars of melodies and a general impressionistic kind of fog that doesn't really let many details through. which looks like naivety to those who don't understand it because it means i'm terrible at communication unless i'm bending words or notes or both at the same time. and even then . . .

but there i am being haughty again. it's the jane austen flavor that's left in my mouth. she validates my idealism, so i always feel completely justified in my stance on romance, and life in general, after watching one of her movies or reading one of her books. enter my pride, who bows very deeply upon his entrance and scoops his hand several more times than is necessary. i'm not really sure why my pride is a man, but it's one of those foggy impressionistic things, i suppose.

i love love
i love being in love
i don't care what it does to me

[the format]

i think i should be off to bed if i think i'm going to actually wash my car tomorrow morning and still have energy left to give the boys piggy-back rides tearing around the house, like i did today. maybe they'll forget about it and we can have a low-key afternoon . . .

right. 'night, then.