Goodnight, Dear Void

My Open Letter to The Office

Fri, 17 May 2013 00:48:33 -0400

You guys know how much I love TV, right?

Eight years ago, I didn’t watch anything.

But in eighth grade, somebody told me about this show called The Office.

The Office changed everything for me.

Rather than try to explain it, I’m just going to let you guys read…

My Open Letter to The Office

Dear Cast and Crew of The Office,

I don’t even know where to begin. When we first met, I was an awkward 13-year-old with no idea who I was. Junior high was hard (duh police), and I tried way too hard to find my place in it all (obvious cops). It was full of misunderstandings, me saying the wrong thing, and (of course) unrequited love.

Then I started watching The Office. That first cold open, when Michael calls Jim’s female client “a gentleman and a scholar” over the phone… I know it sounds stupid, but somehow, that bit of comedy resonated with me right away. I was always doing and saying things I regretted, and here was an office full of normal people trying their best, which sometimes went horribly, horribly awry. They all did stupid stuff to clients at one point or another over those nine beautiful seasons, but everyone who worked at Dunder Mifflin Scranton (except for Jan, and maybe Ryan) had good intentions and good hearts.

Where to even begin?

Well, at the beginning.

Michael Scott.

Michael Scott was the regional manager of Dunder Mifflin Scranton for years. I’ve often seen him described as “bumbling” or “inept,” but I don’t agree. Sure, he was often terrible with people in the office. Who can forget Michael Klump or Prison Mike or Ping or the time he kissed Oscar or when he ruined Phyllis’s wedding to Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration? But Michael Scott was always trying to do the right thing, and he could be so good at his job when the rubber hit the road. David Wallace called him to corporate to ask him how to run a successful branch. Michael won Salesman of the Year two years in a row. Consecutive. When Stanley disrespected him, Michael hemmed and hawed but finally looked Stanley in the eye and told Stanley to respect him at work. Michael Scott proved that you don’t have to be capable all the time to be good at your job.

And then there’s Michael’s love life. All Michael had ever wanted- since childhood! Remember Fundle Bundle?- was a wife and kids. But he could not catch a break. Remember how he proposed to Carol, his realtor, after nine dates? And Jan. Nightmare Jan Levinson ~~Gould~~. Michael was haunted by his relationship with Jan for so long. And then there was the married woman, and the poor chair model. For a long time, it seemed like Michael was never going to get to be happy. Either you felt bad for the woman for having to put up with Michael, or you felt bad for Michael for having to put up with Jan. But, knowing his good heart, you never stopped rooting for Michael.

And then there was Holly. I adore Holly. She was sweet, kind, caring, and beautiful, but still (as Jim put it) “a huuuuge dork.” She was perfect for Michael… and then she got transferred. Oh, was I upset when Holly got transferred. And then there was the company picnic, when Michael and Holly hung out again, and they were still perfect for each other. That episode ended with Michael saying this:

I didn’t find the perfect moment. Because I think that today was about just having today. And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story, when people ask how we found each other. I, will see her, every now and then, and, maybe one year she’ll be with somebody and the next year I’ll be with somebody. And it’s going to take a long time… and then it’s perfect. I’m in no rush.

And they got their perfect moment.

And that was it. Michael and Holly moved to Colorado, and Steve Carell left the show. His last episode, “Goodbye Michael,” was one of the most perfect half-hours of television I have ever seen. It was sweet and sad and so perfectly Michael. There’s even this great moment between Michael and Oscar that shows us that Michael is just a little bit smarter than we think he is. With a final “That’s what she said,” Michael left us. And that was it. You assumed that he and Holly got married and had kids, but you never knew for sure.

Until tonight.

They had said that Steve Carell didn’t feel like it was part of the character’s arc for Michael to come back, but when Dwight and Angela got engaged (augh… more on that in a bit), I freaked. No matter how bad Michael wanted to be buds with Ryan, Dwight was Michael’s best friend. It would be stupid for Michael to miss the wedding!

And he didn’t.

He only had a few real lines, but it wasn’t about that. It was about him being there… and showing Pam pictures of his kids. Kids, plural. Pam said, “He’s so excited to have a family plan.” It was just what he’d always wanted… and what we’d always wanted for him. We don’t even know what he does for a living now in Colorado… but isn’t that kind of the point? He’s not a job anymore. Now, Michael Gary Scott is a husband and a father.

I can’t really put it into fewer words than that, but I’ll try anyway:

Michael Scott, thank you for teaching me that saying stupid stuff doesn’t make you a bad person. Thank you for showing me not to give up on dreams, even when it seems totally hopeless. Thank you for showing me that there’s someone for everyone, and thank you for having a happily ever after.

You thought we were done? Hoo hoo! Nope.

Jim Halpert loved Pam Beesly, in his words, “pretty much the first day I met her.” They were best friends, and, after several agonizing seasons (Roy! Katie! Karen! Roy again!), Jim and Pam finally became a couple. They dated, got engaged, got married, and were married for a few seasons without any real struggles. And then, in the ninth season, the writers decided to shake things up. Jim stopped communicating with Pam, Pam was afraid to communicate with Jim, and they nearly split up. It was awful, but I was so glad that the writers chose to take their relationship in that direction. Jim and Pam are our generation’s Sam and Diane (if you don’t know who Sam and Diane are, GET OUT). They’re the It Couple! This season of The Office courageously showed us that even the It Couple needs to work at marriage. It’s give and take, not live and let live. And in the most recent few episodes, we got to remember what made Jim and Pam Jim and Pam in the first place with some beautiful flashbacks and montages. The Halperts set the standard for couples, for better or for worse.

Jim Halpert, thank you for showing me what love looks like, what to hold out for. Thank you for being certain, for always being certain of Pam. Thank you for showing me that love goes after what it wants, no matter the obstacles, and that indifference and laziness aren’t love at all. Thank you for screwing up, and thank you for giving up what you wanted (Athlead) for what you needed (Pam).

Jim is wonderful, obviously, but I’ve got a special place in my heart for Pam. At the beginning of the show, Pam is so afraid. She’s with Roy because she’s been with him for so long that she’s afraid to not be with him. She’s a secretary at Dunder Mifflin because she’s afraid to pursue her art. She hesitates to move pursue a relationship with Jim because she’s afraid of ruining their friendship. In junior high (and, let’s be honest, high school), I was afraid of things like that too. But there is this wonderful moment in the episode Beach Day where Pam works up her courage, runs across hot coals, and announces to everyone exactly what is on her mind. You see Pam conquer her fears, right there, in front of everyone. In the next episode, Jim and Pam finally get together. It takes Pam a while to realize her dreams of being a paid artist, but with Jim encouraging her, it is so much easier… and all because Pam, meek, quiet little Pam, had the courage to speak her mind. On tonight’s episode, Pam said that she hoped she could inspire just one girl to overcome her fears. Pam, I’m sure there have been many, but I promise that you’ve definitely inspired one.

Pamela Beesly Halpert, thank you for teaching me to be brave. Thank you for showing me what happens when you go after what you want, and thank you for letting me know that it’s okay to be scared. Thank you for supporting Jim, even when it’s hard, and when it hurts. Thank you for answering one last phone call at the secretary’s desk. Thank you for… everything, Pam. Thank you for everything.

I’m running really long here, so I’ll keep the rest of my thank-yous short.

Dwight Schrute, thank you for teaching me the importance of being a Determined Worker Intense Good worker Hard worker Terrific. Thank you for showing me the importance of self-discipline, and for filing all of those complaint reports on Jim to that special file in New York.

Angela Martin Schrute, thank you for always sticking to your guns. Thank you for forgiving Phyllis and Oscar, even though forgiveness isn’t your strong suit. But mostly thank you and your now-husband Dwight for showing me that true love can be weird, but that doesn’t make it any less true than non-weird love.

Oscar Martinez, thank you for your kindness to Angela in her time of need, as well as your well-intentioned pretension. Also, thank you for that time that Michael kissed you. That was awesome.

Kevin Malone, thank you for being Kevin Malone. I think I’ll miss you most of all.

Kelly Kapoor, thank you for Subtle Sexuality and the music video for Male Prima Donna. Also, thank you for being Mindy Kaling and writing The Mindy Project and mostly just being as perfect in real life as you are totally twisted on The Office.

Toby Flenderson, thank you for not committing suicide. Depression affects many employees of offices (Dwight you ignorant slut!), but somehow, inexplicably, you stay strongish. Proud of you… I guess. You’re mostly just, like, an evil snail.

Erin Hannon, thank you for following in Pam’s secretarial footsteps by being brave enough to ditch Andy, who was a terrible boyfriend to you, for Pete, who is crazy sweet to you. Who’s Pete? Oh, sorry… Plop.

Phyllis Lapin-Vance, thank you for showing me that passionate love of one’s husband can continue into your… how old are you? Forties? However old Michael is. You guys are the same age.

Stanley Hudson, thank you for your enthusiasm on Pretzel Day, and for not noticing when anything in the office is different ever.

Andrew “Nard Dog” Bernard, thank you for sticking around. I missed you in the ninth season, but I love how you always go after your dreams. Your weird, crazy, unaccompanied-musical dreams.

Meredith Palmer, thank you for getting hit by Michael’s car. Best cold open of anything ever.

Creed Bratton, thank you for being impossible to figure out.

Ryan Howard, go away. You’re the worst. Thanks for that “custardy” joke though. And for taking Michael to business school in my favorite episode, entitled “Business School.” And thanks for starting the fiyah!

Thanks also for introducing me to two of my favorite shows, 30 Rock and Parks and Rec, simply because they were on after you. Thank you for kicking off the movie careers of Steve Carell and John Krasinski and the television career of Mindy Kaling. I can’t wait to see what else happens because you made it.

Thank you, cast and crew of The Office, for making such a weird little show. You understood me, and you got me through growing up. I’ll miss you more intensely than Michael missed that turn when he drove into the lake, and your absence will land harder than Michael would have if he’d jumped off the roof onto that bouncy house. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten.

Love,
Emily.

Please Don't Ruin This For Me

Tue, 14 May 2013 22:43:00 -0400

There is a special circle of hell reserved for some people.

Of course, I don’t mean that theologically. I’m not trying to get all tangled up in belief systems or whatnot.

When I say that there is a special circle of hell reserved for some people, what I mean is that there are some things that people do that I judge more harshly. It’s not, like, using the wrong “to/too/two” or leaving your shopping cart in the middle of the parking lot or even misusing the word “literally.” All of those things are borderline evil, but not bad enough to get you into my metaphorical special circle of hell.

Everybody has their own standard for this special circle. Dante, of course, calls it the Ninth Circle of Hell, and keeps it for the treacherous and those guilty of fraud. On Firefly, Shepherd Book warns ~~baby Richard Castle~~ Captain Mal that he’s risking “a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.” Captain Jack Sparrow believes that “the deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers.”

So who (besides the obvious: molesters, murderers, and the like) is in my metaphorical circle of hell? A brief list:

People who treat bus drivers and drive-thru clerks like servants (just look them in the eye, people! It’s not that hard!)
People who don’t like Tom Hanks
People who give judgmental looks at the gym (I’M TRYING)
Allison Argent from Teen Wolf
Grown men who wear Speedos to family waterparks
People who win happiness points by ruining stuff for other people

That last one is what I am going to rant about for just a second. I understand not liking stuff. Nobody likes everything. If you liked everything, your heart would probably explode and you would probably die. It’s totally fine not to like stuff. But to try to convince other people not to like stuff that they like, or to make people feel bad for liking stuff that they like? That is the actual worst.

Let me give you an example.

I love Taylor Swift’s latest album, Red. I think it is seriously so good. If you don’t like it, or do not think it is good, that is okay. I will think you are wrong, but you will think you are right. So you and I will just agree to avoid discussion of Taylor Swift’s Red, and if you are in my car, I will pick Mumford & Sons or Justin Timberlake or something instead.

But if you hear me humming a few bars of 22 or you hear I Knew You Were Trouble on a playlist that I made and you scoff, “Psh, who put Taylor Swift on here?” and I boldly declare, “It was me!” and you’re all like, “You don’t seriously like Taylor Swift, do you?” and I retort, “Yeah, I definitely do,” and you are like, “But she’s terrible,” and I’m like, “No she isn’t!” and you’re like, “But [chord progressions or Harry Styles or whatever your stupid hypothetical problem with Taylor Swift is]!” That is what gets you into my special circle of hell. You just tried to talk me out of loving a thing that I love, and that is rude. You just tried to ruin Taylor Swift for me. I now hate you.

Okay, I don’t hate you. But I do want you to understand how you sound when you try to take away a thing that I love like that. You may not like Taylor Swift. But it is mean of you to try to ruin Taylor Swift for me!

But here’s the thing: I do not want to make people afraid to talk to me about anything ever. It’s totally okay if you don’t like the things that I like! But please, for the love of Pete, do not be aggressively negative about my stuff. In return, I promise to not be aggressively negative about your stuff.

These are the top things that I will ask you (“you” being the collective entity of my friends) not to try to ruin for me:

Tom Hanks (NEVER BESMIRCH TOM HANKS. I WILL NOT FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT. HE IS AMERICA’S ACTOR.)
The book Ella Enchanted
Beyoncé
Almost any character from Lost
Any character from Community (especially Abed)
Vincent Van Gogh (very very misunderstood)
The majority of romantic comedies from 1989-2001
Mindy Kaling/The Mindy Project
All six Avengers but especially Black Widow (not because she’s my favorite but because she gets the most flak)
My family and friends (…should have been higher on the list, but I figured it was obvious)
To a lesser extent, things that I love even though I know they’re silly: Teen Wolf, One Direction, The Lake House, Duck Dynasty, etc.

In return, here are some things that I hate that I promise not to try to ruin for you guys. I will still say that I hate them, but I will avoid referring to them as objectively “bad.” Especially if you like them.

Anne Hathaway
Wes Anderson movies that aren’t Fantastic Mr. Fox (because I love that one)
Essentially all video games (like seriously, what is the deal with Skyrim? Sorry.)
Tennis
Soccer
Game of Thrones (I try really hard not to care about Game of Thrones but Daenerys is so cool and I just want Arya to be happy)
Civil War history (too many amputations)
World War I history (too many trenches)
Fast and Furious movies
Transformers movies
The Way We Were (Movie, not song. Obviously the song is perfection.)
The Karate Kid remake
Rent

I promise not to ruin things for you if you promise not to ruin things for me. Thank you so much for understanding.

Know Your Limits

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 20:07:53 -0400

Or, more appropriately, Know My Limits. Because I’m going to tell you some of them right now.

Emily, don’t say you’re going to go jogging. We both know that’s ambitious, since what you’re really going to do is walk-run-pant-stagger-repeat. You can’t add it all together, average it, and call it jogging. That’s not how this works.
Emily, don’t use the recline-y exercise bike. Your weird legs-to-body proportions make it impossible for you to not hit your knee really hard on the handlebars, and that puppy’s gonna bruise. It’s gonna bruise real good. And stay bruised for weeks. Come on.
And for the love of Pete, Emily, do not try to exercise without water. You may think you’ll be fine, since you don’t exercise very well in the first place, but you need water. No, not Dr. Pepper. Water.
Emily, honey, if there are two or more good looking guys in the workout room, just leave. You’re not going to be able to use that elliptical without a looming and intense concern that you look like Crutchy fleeing Pulitzer’s goons in that one riot from Newsies. I know that there are a lot of exercise limits on this list, and that’s intentional. You have a lot of exercise limits, Emily. Deal with it.
Emily, you should not even try to strike up conversations with cute guys on elevators. You can talk to other girls, old guys, kids, whatever, but do not try to talk to the cute guys. We both know that you’ll say something incredibly stupid within the first 15 seconds, making the rest of the elevator ride unbearably awkward. What, you think you don’t say stupid things when you’re talking to attractive male strangers? What about that time last week when you told the Homeland checkout guy that you “always anticipate bag problems”? And the time that one track runner that you “um, uh, think I like going to the Oklahoma of University a lot so far”? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just pretend to be absorbed in your phone.
Emily, you can’t go to bed at 1AM and wake up at 7AM. You just can’t. It’s not who you are.
Similarly, Emily, you can’t spend six hours on a paper. If you allot that much time, you’re going to spend 38% of it tweeting and another 26% watching “just one episode” of your shows. Just go in spurts, honey. Work in spurts.
Emily, you can’t watch just one episode of something. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen that thing. You will watch at least three episodes. Especially if it’s The Mindy Project.
Emily, you cannot do another full series rewatch of The Mindy Project. I don’t care how perfectly they’ve set up their characters for development. I don’t care how much you identify with Mindy Kaling and her character, even if it’s more than you identified with Liz Lemon. I don’t care how great Chris Messina is at pretending not to care but turning up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly to prove that he does. I don’t care how much you adore the friend/rival/buddy/future spouses chemistry of Danny and Mindy that they are playing out so slowly and so well. Your homework is being neglected. Stop it.
Emily, you totally can use your blog to subtly plug The Mindy Project. It’s a great show, and everyone who likes 90s romantic comedies should be watching it. Go ahead on that one.

There are so many more limits that I have, but I don’t want to share all of my shortcomings with you guys. I need to retain some semblance of imperviousness. These are the important ones anyway… and I get the feeling that if I keep talking it’s just gonna be praise for The Mindy Project. Hey, I should go watch that. Just one episode…

Bey and Me

Sat, 23 Feb 2013 14:59:08 -0500

I’ve had this post under my proverbial hat for a lonnnng time. That’s important for you all to know. I didn’t come up with this all at once. That would be deeply unsettling. I’m only almost as ridiculous as I seem. Okay.

If you’re reading this, you know how I feel about Beyonce. I’ll never hide my admiration for the real-life Wonder Woman that is Beyonce Knowles: woman, wife, mother, international music phenomenon, dancer, actress, political activist, and my fellow Houstonian. She’s basically everything that I’ve ever wanted to be, all at once.

So why wouldn’t I want to spend as much time with her as I possibly could? And why should I keep our awesome best friend times just between me and Bey?

For the good of humanity, I have decided:

I have to star in some movies with Beyonce.

But these can’t be just any movies! These have to be movies that speak to the human condition, the loyalty of best friends, and how great Beyonce and I would look in all sorts of elaborate costumes.

With these criteria in mind, I present to you three of my best ideas for movies starring Beyonce and myself (plus a few bonus ideas that are still taking shape), from least favorite to most favorite.

3. Mérmaid: uplifting comedy/fantasy, Splash meets You’ve Got Mail.

I play a marine biologist at the top of my field, doing research on a rare breed of dolphin for a private firm based out of the Bahamas and run by married couple BJ Novak and Mindy Kaling. When my roguish coworker Aaron Tveit and I are sent on a weeklong research trip to study dolphins on a remote island, the last thing we expect to find is love. The second-to-last thing we expect to find is a mermaid. Spoiler alert: we find both.

Aaron Tveit is the blonde guy from Les Mis, so our movie pretty much starts off like this:

What? It’s an island! He was swimming! It’s relevant to the plot. Don’t you dare judge me.

Also, the height difference is inaccurate… he’s actually a full seven inches taller than me. I know. I checked. Online.

You’ll notice that in the sky, you can see the plane that dropped us off. For science.

Anyway, Aaron and I are studying dolphins very academically when we come across a mermaid (played by Beyonce, obviously) searching for her merhusband Jay-Z, who went missing near the island where our corporation is headquartered. Chaos ensues as we search the nearby islands for Jay-Z and try to keep the pair of mythical creatures from our apparently evil employers.

I’m not sure how it all happens, but the mercouple finds each other, the evil corporation is overthrown, and it all ends with mine and Aaron’s wedding at which Beyonce is the mermaid of honor. Also the dolphins are probably saved. All in all, this is an uplifting tale (lol tail) that ends in me being best friends with Beyonce. Huzzah!

2. All the Psychic Ladies: buddy comedy with a slight hint of supernatural thriller, Baby Mama meets Ghostbusters.

I play an office worker who has a mundane life until one day, I start having weird psychic visions that someone is trying to kill my boss, Jay-Z. I dismiss these visions at first, but then I stumble upon carnival fortune-teller Beyonce (whose name in the film is probably Celeste Babylonia or something like that), who is having the same visions. I try to warn Jay-Z, but he won’t listen… that is, until Beyonce shows up.

All the Psychic Ladies also stars Harry Styles in his acting debut as a beautiful idiot/reporter. He stumbles across the unlikely team of me and Bey while researching for an expose on psychics, and accidentally joins the team. We save Jay-Z’s life, couples pair off exactly as you would expect them to, and it ends happily ever after.

The best part of this nonexistent movie is when we burst in on the would-be assassin (Kevin Costner playing against type), yell “put your hands UP!”, and share a joint vision in which the whole cast does the Single Ladies dance. Plot-wise, this is never addressed.

Saving the best for last:

1. Law on Top: gritty crime drama. Think Pelican Brief or The Departed, but just a bit more light-hearted. Not too lighthearted though. This film is released in early January. It’s Oscar bait, people. Oscar bait.

The plot of this one is still pretty nebulous, much more so than the first two, but it has the best poster so this one is my favorite.

Beyonce plays an edgy police detective who stumbles upon a lead in a high-profile murder case of like a politician or something, but before she can follow up, she gets suspended from the force for punching a rapist in the interrogation room. The police chief (Joseph Gordon Levitt) encourages Bey to follow up on her own. Her only hope is to take the case to her best friend from college, assistant district attorney ME. The district attorney (Jay-Z) has personal ties to the case, and so the four of us team up to bring down the kingpin who made this all happen (Sean Connery, coming out of retirement because of how compelling this script is). The climax is a long courtroom scene in which it looks like we are going to lose but then Beyonce and I discover a clue at the last possible second and come up with a theory so crazy that it just might be true and I piece together the most tearjerkingly poignant closing argument the world has ever seen and then WE WIN THE CASE and Sean Connery is behind bars and the day is saved!

Also Jay-Z falls for Beyonce and JGL is so intrigued by my eloquent and powerful beauty that each girl marries the other’s boss, setting us up for a really great sequel if that’s the direction we decide to take it.

Bonus ideas:

Crazy in Time (time-travel comedy, with a bit of gravitas about fate or something): It’s Bill and Ted, but backwards and in high heels. The only other thing I have written down for this is “time-traveling queens?” so there’s that. Emily’s love interest: Thanks to the magic of time-travel, 1988 Tom Hanks.

Irreplaceable (Disney Channel-style feel-good film): Bey… or Eby? It’s a switcheroo, Princess and the Pauperess story. I get confused for Beyonce all the time, so this should be a cinch. Emily’s love interest: Justin Timberlake.

Halo (documentary): Beyonce and I play Halo and talk about our feelings for a few hours. Emily’s love interest: Prince Harry, who wanders in and realizes that I’m what he’s been missing all along, and vows to give up his wild ways to prove that he loves me. I’m indifferent at first, but eventually won over.

I want you all to know that I am absurdly embarrassed by all of this. Almost embarrassed enough to not post it.

Almost.

Preempted by the Future

Fri, 08 Feb 2013 00:44:41 -0500

I’m taking the LSAT on Saturday.

I have at least 4 really great blog post topics, but they’ve been preempted by my future, as has everything else lately. On Saturday afternoon, I’m going to go back to being a normally functioning human, fun friend, calm student, non-annoying Facebook poster (if I ever was before).

But until then, I’m in LSAT mode.

The past two nights have been really hard in terms of studying, mostly because I’m so afraid I’ll blow it that I cannot function properly.

Tonight was the worst. I couldn’t get through a single problem without panicking, so I shut the books, came home, and watched Legally Blonde the Musical.

I know it seems stupid, but it was one of the better decisions I’ve made this year.

Now I remember: I’m going to be a lawyer to help people. I want to eventually be a politician to help people on a grander scale. There’s more than one path to those destinations. This LSAT is just one stepping stone, and I can do it. I’ve studied my tail off. I’ve practiced. I’ve done well in practice. And- not to get cheesy on you guys- but I really, truly believe that this is what God made me for.

This is it. The LSAT is in less than 36 hours.

No more fear. No more panic.

I can do it.

It’s time.

Subtitles

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 02:27:00 -0500

There are a ton of exciting sequels about to come out.

Yeah, this post is gonna be nerdy and entirely about movies. Bow out now if you don’t care.

In the past few years, there have been some really great movies. I know that there have been some bad ones too, but think about how much awesome has happened in theaters in recent times. Christopher Nolan’s Batman movies, all of the Avengers franchise films, a third Toy Story, and some solid reboots of already-great brands like X-Men, Spiderman, and Star Trek.

The best thing about this wave of excellence in theaters is that a second wave was bound to follow. Hollywood loves making money, and nothing makes money like sequels. And with sequels, it helps if there is some distinguishing feature that separates the title of the newer movie from the title of the older movie (besides the obvious “2”).

Ladies and gentlemen, the second wave is upon us, and with it comes a boatload of fantastic subtitles.

We’ve already gotten Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows and Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, which were not only great subtitles but also surprisingly good movies (especially MI4… see it if you haven’t already).

Here are the upcoming subtitles that I am excited about.

Fantastic Subtitle #1:

I love Thor.

I know it’s not a particularly great movie (the best scenes are the deleted ones, a fact that is endlessly frustrating to me), and Thor may not be the most interesting Avenger, but if I had to pick a favorite on pain of death, the God of Thunder would win by a hair. A long, flowing, manly blond hair, or maybe like a full, thick, golden beard hair. That’s why I am so excited that they’re giving him his own second movie.

If you haven’t seen Avengers (for the love of Pete, see Avengers), look away now: The fact that Loki was taken back to Asgard instead of killed at the end of Avengers just sets them up for an even better sequel. Loki is a great villain, and his dynamic with Thor is so good/sad that it makes my heart grow but also hurt.

As for the subtitle, what the heck is the Dark World? I know I could probably do a little googling and find out, but I have an uncharacteristic desire to let this one go unspoiled for myself. Either way, such a bright and shining man going into any sort of darkness is bound to create a compelling plot… right?

Even if it doesn’t, I still get to look at Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston, and (let’s be honest here) Natalie Portman. And that, in itself, is a victory.

Fantastic Subtitle #2:

“What?” You ask, a little rudely. “How does that qualify as a fantastic subtitle? That’s just a season and an occupation. Come on Emily, get your act together!”

Well I am going to be forgiving, even though you snapped at me just then, and explain.

This is an exciting subtitle because, in the comics, the Winter Soldier is none other than Bucky Ding Dang Dadgum Barnes.

Remember him from Captain America? This guy:

Let me tell you, no dynamic gives me feelings like Thor and Loki. But if I had to pick a runner-up, it would be Steve Rogers (AKA Captain America) and Bucky Barnes. They’re a modern day David and Jonathan, best friends in peace and in war. They respect each other and love each other, and there are few things I enjoy more than a good bromance.

“But Emily,” you ask again, and I’m starting to get a little perturbed. “Didn’t he die in Captain America?”

Did he fall off of a train into a deep and icy ravine? Yes.

Did he die?

Take a gander at the cast list for Cap 2, and then you tell me:

WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO

BUCKY’S BACK, Y’ALL

And yeah, I am pretty excited about it.

(And I’m trying not to get too excited about the rumored Peggy Carter thing, but it’s not working. Peggy Carter is da bomb.)

Fantastic Subtitle #3:

The 2009 Star Trek movie was everything that a space action movie should be, and getting Benedict Cumberbatch to play the villain in the sequel was clutch. (More on that guy later. Also, if Tom, Sage, and Dylan are reading this, no I do not mean Benadryl Cumberbund.)

The best thing about this subtitle is something that my friend Zach pointed out, and since he’s the authority on Star Trek, science, and math, I feel that I would pay dearly for taking credit for this observation. This isn’t Star Trek: Into Darkness or Star Trek 2//Into Darkness. This is Star Trek Into Darkness. Our beloved crew (♥Chekov♥) is actually trekking into darkness, and darkness is generally pretty scary… especially if you happen to be wearing a red shirt.

Fantastic Subtitle #4:

Okay, here’s that “more on Benedict Cumberbatch” part.

Ben (his name is too long to keep typing) is this fantastic British actor who is all voice and height and cheekbones and sass. He plays Sherlock Holmes on the BBC/PBS show, on which his Watson is the perfect little man/earlier blog subject Martin Freeman. If that name sounds familiar, it’s because Mahtin also plays the perfect little creature Bilbo Baggins, AKA The Hobbit.

And, in a really beautiful casting move, Benedict Cumberbatch shall be voicing the dragon/treasure enthusiast Smaug in the second installment of The Hobbit trilogy.

For the record, I’ve been pronouncing it “Smog” all along but everyone in the movie said “Sm-ow-g” and now I don’t know what to say anymore.

Either way, the subtitle “The Desolation of Smaug” makes me feel/hope that this upcoming movie will just be the lovechild of Sherlock and How to Train Your Dragon. Maybe Bilbo will learn how to ride Smaug and teach the dwarves that dragons aren’t so bad after all! That’s likely, right?

Fantastic Subtitle #5, and by far my favorite of the bunch:

The movie X-Men: First Class was better than all of the other X-Men films combined. It starred very good actors, had a pretty solid plot, and incorporated real American history, which I loved. Other than a very problematic shot wherein Kevin Bacon references slavery and it cuts to the black guy’s reaction, I really enjoyed First Class. But when I heard the subtitle for this one, I thought

OOOOOOOOOOH

MMMMMMMMMY

WWWOOORRRDDD

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN

Here’s a good thing to know about me: I love time travel stories more than any other stories. So the subtitle “Days of Future Past” whips me into a space-time continuum frenzy. Add to that the fact that Young X and Magneto (James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender) are signed on WITH Older X and Magneto (Sir Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen, and you have all of the necessary steps to time travel it uuuuup!

(If Days of Future Past doesn’t have time travel, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.)

Also, bonafide girl crush Jennifer Lawrence will be back as Mystique, but this time she’s bad? Can’t WAIT to see J.Law crush it as an evil shapeshifter. Mutant and proud!!

Those are the best subtitles for sequels that I’ve seen so far. This is going to be such a great, great year for movies.

2013, bring it on.

Love Letter to Eowyn

Tue, 01 Jan 2013 20:44:00 -0500

Preface: I haven’t read the Lord of the Rings books, but I have seen the movies many, many times and read the relevant Wikipedia pages. Tolkien nuts, please don’t get mad at me if I’m wrong/oversimplifying.

You may have noticed that, since The Hobbit came out in theaters, I’ve been a huddled mass of Lord of the Rings feelings. That is because the Lord of the Rings trilogy is the greatest non-Star Wars thing in the world. The series is just a puzzle in which every piece is a fantastic character driven by a different objective.

Frodo wants to destroy the One Ring for a great many reasons, the most poignant of which is that he knows it’s the right thing to do, despite how deeply he wishes he didn’t have to do it.

Aragorn wants to save Middle Earth from evil but without receiving credit for doing so, because he wants to redeem the name that he inherited from a man whose greed condemned Middle Earth in the first place.

Pippin wants to mean something in a good way and do right by everyone, no matter how despicable some people are, because he has had such a small life in the Shire that he desires to handle big things with the same grace that he handles small things (he’s not always graceful, per se, but he is good).

Elrond wants to preserve his people, especially his daughter, but he also wants to help Middle Earth, because he knows that the time of the elves is ending, but men are also important and deserve to live to their time too.

Saruman hitches his wagon to the wrong Giant Flaming Eye because he wants power and feels that he knows how to use it, and also he doesn’t want to die, which seems simple but is not a bad motivation.

There are so many others who are incredibly fascinating in their own right- don’t you even get me started on Samwise Gamgee- but there’s one character in particular that I want to write about here.

Eowyn.

Eowyn is a shieldmaiden of Rohan, the niece of King Theoden. When we first meet her in The Two Towers, her life is the worst. She is stuck in the palace at Edoras, trying to keep the kingdom in one piece as her uncle rots (literally, guys) under the bad juju of evil wizard Saruman and his crony, the Snape/Pettigrew hybrid Grima Wormtongue. Her brother Eomer has just been banished, her cousin Theodred has just died, and Wormtongue, despite his romantically inauspicious name, will not stop hitting on her. Basically her only solace at this point is that she has really, really great hair, and on the solace meter, that’s pretty low.

But everything changes when a band of four rides into town: A white wizard (Gandalf), a ruddy dwarf (Gimli), a well-groomed elf (Legolas), and a scruffy-lookin’ ranger-who-would-be-king (Aragorn). These four get the nasty spirit out of Theoden, kick Wormtongue outta Dodge/Rohan, and generally improve Eowyn’s life by about 98.7% in less than half an hour. Gandalf is preoccupied with the big and important questions of Middle Earth, Gimli is like a fun uncle (or funcle), Legolas is an elf and therefore embedded to his very core with better-than-youness, but Aragorn…

Well, Aragorn takes some time out of his main activity (bringing ConflictedSexy back) to cross swords and wits with Eowyn. It’s clear from their first real encounter that he respects her a lot, and he’s not really going anywhere. Plus, he’s so ConflictedSexy. (Please don’t read that as sarcasm. It wasn’t.) So it comes to pass that Eowyn falls maybe a little or a lot in love with Aragorn.

Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please step out of the story with me for a moment to travel back in time with me. The Return of the King came out in 2003. I discovered (read: was finally allowed to watch) these movies in 2002. Since I entered middle school in August of 2003, these were pretty much my main obsession all throughout junior high. This is important to what’s coming next.

I had a huge fat crush on a boy in junior high. I don’t mean that I liked a boy or dated a boy or whatever. I had a huge. fat. crush on him. If you know me at all, you know who it was. If you don’t, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I just thought that he hung the moon.

Let me state for the record that this was a very. different. Emily. Junior High Emily was the worst, and I have nothing but gratitude for the people who knew her and still choose to be friends with Subsequent Emily.

I’ve said that Junior High Emily did two things: judged people, and liked this boy too much. Fortunately, I am pretty sure I have mostly grown out of the first (call me on it if I haven’t) and I know that I have grown out of the second (though it took a while).

The other part of this that’s important is that Huge Fat Crush Boy (or, as I shall now shorthand him, HFCB) did not feel the same way. That’s okay. That happens. A lot. To everyone. At one point or another.

Doesn’t mean it was fun.

To be honest, liking someone who doesn’t like you back is the actual worst. I’m not going to go into it in too much depth, because you can pretty much just watch The Holiday and get what I’m talking about, in much better wording, plus Kate Winslet. Mostly what sucks about it is that it makes you feel all weak and stuff, because there’s nothing you can do about it. If something in my life sucks, then I want to take steps to make it better. That’s the kind of person I am. But when you like someone who doesn’t like you, there are no steps to be taken. You can’t stop liking the person, or else you would. And you can’t make them like you, because why would you want to be with someone if you have to force them to like you? That’s not fun for anybody. So you just kind of sit there, like a sponge of sadness, which is what I did for a good portion of middle school.

Re-enter Eowyn.

I owe so much to Eowyn.

While I was sitting there like a sadness sponge, I watched Lord of the Rings. Eowyn was my favorite character pre-HFCB, but upon rewatching, I saw something that I hadn’t seen before. Yes, Eowyn is cool and beautiful and smart and tough and independent and brave and wonderful. But she was also like me. She loved Aragorn (not that HFCB was Aragorn, mind you, nor was I Eowyn. It’s a loose analogy), and despite all of these great things about her, Aragorn did not love her back. Did that make her weaker or dumber or even a sadness sponge?

NO.

Because Eowyn, while sad, didn’t just sit and pine and pine and pine. She got out there and rode horses and fought battles and inspired people and even proved that women can do things! She was still subject to unrequited love, but she wasn’t a victim of it! In fact (spoiler alert, although if you haven’t seen Return of the King yet then what are you even doing with your life), there is this King Bad Guy Creature called the Witch-king of Angmar, who thinks that he is invincible because a 1000-year-old prophecy by the Elf-lord Glorfindel says that he will not die “by the hand of man.” In the movie, when he meets Eowyn on the battlefield, he hisses, “You fool, no man can kill me.” Eowyn pulls off her helmet, her hair tumbles down, she roars, “I AM NO MAN,” and then STABS THE WITCH-KING IN THE FACE.

Actually, in the movie, she roars, “I AM NO MAN.” In the book, her speech is considerably longer and surprisingly even more awesome:

“But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”

Of course, the Witch-king dies, because bad guys never consider potential loopholes in prophecies, and Eowyn cements herself as the coolest ever. And all of this while being head-over-heels for a great guy who doesn’t love her!

And then, after the battle and the healing and the restoring and the inspirational music, Eowyn does the most important thing: she moves on. She gets up one morning and suddenly she loves Aragorn a little less, and the next morning it’s lesser still, until one day it’s all just gone! Eventually, she falls in love with one of the other fantastic men in Middle-Earth, Faramir (who overcomes the literal worst father in the history of literature to become a pretty great dude) and together they presumably have really excellent, beautiful, brave children, and make Middle-Earth a better place. Eowyn has a future after the Huge Fat Crush Era (Era-gorn?). And- shockingly enough- so did I!

Thankfully, my days of all-consuming crushes on boys are gone (well, almost gone: love me, Tom Hiddleston), but I don’t know if I would have made it through them in one piece if not for the shining example of Eowyn.

I guess what I’m saying here is, don’t ever let someone tell you “it’s just a fictional character!”

Sometimes, fictional characters can be the ones that help the most.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch a gif of Aragorn opening some doors. What? A girl can dream!

I Wouldn't Have To Study For Finals If...

Wed, 05 Dec 2012 21:30:00 -0500

I were an astronaut- no gravity to keep the paper on the table, too much to look at out the window
I were an Amazon princess like Wonder Woman- the Island of Themyscira is a haven from worries, all they have to do is read for fun, brush their hair, and practice kicking tail
I were the queen of Naboo/princess of Alderaan- no school subjects because the professors are my subjects (wordplay)
I were Rod Kimble- escape tricks and fire-breathing cannot be learned from a book, ancestors protect me [from finals]
I were a Hobbit- so many breakfastes, so little time, mustn’t waste the day studying!
I were Batman- too much crime to prevent, justice in the night trumps botany in the day

Addendum: I wouldn’t mind studying for school if I went to:

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Jedi Training

Addendum II: I do mind studying for finals, because I am in:

Oklahoma

In the words of my fantastic roommate Alyssa Boutelle, ”I swear that on December 15th I’ll go back to appreciating the fact that I can afford a higher education.”

Complaint Emily over and out.

Several Unrelated Thoughts

Sun, 25 Nov 2012 23:14:00 -0500

You may think you’ve felt a combination of dread and pain, but unless you’ve left your retainers at college while you went home for a week, you’re wrong. The dread that overtakes you in that moment of realization festers until you return to your apartment, and you think that nothing could be worse than that dread. And then you put your retainers in, and the pain is a thousand times worse than mere dread ever could be.

Please don’t mock my pain.

Alyssa (my roommate/an angel from heaven) is doing some much-needed vacuuming in our apartment right now. Hear me now: I’m not saying that I agree with them on this one, but I totally see how dogs could be scared of vacuums. Vacuums are loud.

I miss Community. Like, a lot. Is it February 7th yet?

I want to write letters to somebody. If you like writing letters, let me know. I want to be half of a correspondence.

How great of a word is correspondence? Some other great words: abstruse, azure, pilcrow, ampersand, panoply, opalescent, petrichor. If you don’t know what they mean, you should look them up. I love words.

You know what else I like? Paintings of geese. Go ahead, click here and tell me that those aren’t relaxing. We used to have one at home. I wonder where that thing went…

Have you seen Stranger Than Fiction? I think that if someone started ominously narrating my life like that, I would probably be really cool with it. Especially if that voice happened to be one of my pre-approved life narrators: Cary Elwes, Tina Fey, Tom Hanks, or Ice-T. One of these things is not like the others, you say? Watch one episode of Law and Order SVU, just one, and then tell me that The Emily Eby Story narrated by Ice-T wouldn’t be awesome.

Right now, my tentative memoir title is Unnecessary Complications: The Emily Eby Story. Runners-up include Paleface: SPF80 and Other Things I Need and Nora Ephron Is Dead, So What’s The Point Anymore?

Have you ever read the lyrics to Gangnam Style in English? You should. They’re hilarious. Here you go.

Last week, I told Madeline (other roommate/platonic soulmate) and my sister Claire that I wanted to own a red brick house with white trim and white columns, to which Claire responded, “But Emily, then people will expect you to own slaves!” I don’t know what they’re teaching in high schools these days.

One of the things that matters most to me in this world is my own personal belief that one day Mindy Kaling will marry BJ Novak and they will have as many funny kids as Mindy wants, because she’s a hardworking lady therefore she gets to choose that kind of stuff.

I know that’s creepy and weird and gross if you listen to the lyrics, but Baby It’s Cold Outside is still one of my favorite holiday songs. I have six versions on my iPod, including one by Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson. I mostly just keep that one because it makes me laugh.

“A hot dog is singing. You need quiet while a hot dog is singing?” -Probably my most used You’ve Got Mail quote of all.

Is No Shave November over yet?

Pretty much every episode of The Cosby Show is on YouTube. Do yourself a favor and spend some time with the Huxtables this week.

I am in a constant state of wanting to reread Pride and Prejudice. Can I just hire somebody to follow me around and read it?

(Preferably Ice-T.)

Thinking Too Much

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 02:32:57 -0500

Is it better to learn how to fit in with the new ways or revert to the old ones?

I just opened Microsoft Word to change the view to that good old 2003 style and then, when I couldn’t figure it out immediately, I started wondering about this. It’s a stupid thing to make me wonder, really, but I almost always wonder about important things as a result of wondering about stupid things. Is it better to just adapt to the new things than to cling to the old ones? Newspapers and records and books and idealism and faith in government and letter-writing and all sorts of things are fading by the day, and it seems to be only “old soul” sorts of people who care.

I mean, it’s not like good things aren’t coming with progress. I can visit my best friends at any time, regardless of where in the U.S. they live, because my car (whose name is Cliffy, for the record) can get me there. I can cast my ballot for president, because now anyone, regardless of race or gender or land-ownership status, can vote. I can learn everything I need to learn to be a lawyer after college because there are tons of graduate schools competing for students. Things are getting better in a lot of ways.

But we’re still losing things. I want to be one-half of an old-fashioned correspondence. I want to curtsy to people who are more important than me. I want to sit in a café in Europe where everyone is reading books with golden-edged pages and nobody is on computers. However, I’m acutely aware that the only reason I can share these desires is because of computers and internet and progress.

Maybe the only way of resolving the conflict between past and present is having one foot in both.

Recently I wrote in a story for class that “my dad lives at a curious crossroads between the up-to-date and the old-fashioned, which is another trait I’ve inherited from him.” He checks his hometown newspaper on his iPad, and listens to Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley on his iPod. I so admire that. My dad has a willingness to embrace change and technology, but also a loyalty to everything that brought him to this point.

I guess that’s why I feel like an old soul sometimes, even if I’m only two decades old. I feel as though I owe my present state of being to all of human history. So many pieces of the past have shaped my existence: King David’s Psalms, Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby, Rob Reiner’s Princess Bride, Russell T. Davies’s Doctor Who, The Script’s Science & Faith, John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars. My story isn’t new. It’s just a result of the unique set of things that I have been exposed to and responded to. After all that it has done for me, I can’t disregard the past so easily.

But new things are shaping me too. Any new album could be the one that makes me realize something huge. Any new book could show me an aspiration or a longing that I didn’t know I had. Any new episode of television could awaken my passion for a cause. Anything (provided that it’s not directed by Michael Bay or starring Kevin James) could be the next big influence on my life.

I suppose that the key to my dilemma is simply the knowledge that the present is in a constant state of becoming the past, and the perspective that comes with that knowledge. Adapt to the present, because it will later be past. Then adapt again, and never forget where you came from.

Either way, in the words of Kathleen Kelly: “I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So goodnight, dear void.”

I wrote a dumb short story for my dumb creative writing class but my roommates told me it was good...

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 01:59:25 -0400

I wrote a dumb short story for my dumb creative writing class but my roommates told me it was good so click here if you want to read it and do you want to know a secret I’m actually kind of proud of it even though it’s dumb so there you go.

In Defense of Romeo and Juliet

Tue, 23 Oct 2012 17:30:00 -0400

When I saw the following text post on Tumblr, I couldn’t ignore it:

hotbabysitter:

My name is Juliet Capulet and I’m 13 years young and I luv my bf Romeo so much we’re gunna get married i luv him so much& we just met hehe xD I wuld give my life for him!

Okay here it comes:

First of all, 13 was very different in Shakespeare’s day, and most of the intelligent noblewomen in Europe got married at or around that age. If Juliet didn’t marry Romeo she would have married Paris that same year anyway, so you can just put the age argument away right now.

Second, look at your silly internet diction. Now compare it to the way Shakespeare has the real Juliet speak. “I luv my bf Romeo so much” is a far far far cry from the actual “When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.” Forgive me for assuming, but if Juliet were alive in the internet age, she would not use phrases like “we just met hehe.” Despite how much you’d like to make Juliet seem unintelligent, she clearly was not.

And okay, maybe Romeo and Juliet did make what we would call “stupid” decisions, but look at the time they were in. Their families were basically children (see Juliet’s oblivious and narcissistic mother for proof) in a senseless feud that nobody even knew the origin of anymore. Not exactly an environment that fosters maturity and thoughtful decision-making. Now look at the outcome. Okay, Romeo and Juliet died, but they ended up becoming martyrs for the cause of peace in Verona. In a matter of days, they achieved what the law enforcement couldn’t do in years.

And yeah, they both died. But last time I checked, it was an admirable quality to love something so much that you would give your life for it. Nobody makes fun of William Wallace for sacrificing his life for Scotland. Nobody mocks Mufasa for dying to save Simba. I’ve never heard anyone say that Jack was an idiot for staying with Rose in Titanic, and that’s basically the exact same story!! (Shocking, I know, because James Cameron movies are usually soooo original.) Sorry that you think that Romeo and Juliet wasted their lives for love. They obviously saw it differently.

So before you start thinking you’re so much better than Romeo and Juliet, take just a moment to stop reducing a beautifully rich tale to your own one-dimensional SparkNote of that tale that draws more influence from a CW television show than it does from the actual play in its historical context.

This has been a moment of annoyance with Emily.

I'm so pleased with the open letter to ketchup. Ketchup blows, and I don't care who knows it. MUSTARD 4 LYFE.

Mon, 22 Oct 2012 00:32:36 -0400

Racquel, you get me.

Ketchup

Sun, 21 Oct 2012 23:14:00 -0400

Preface:

One of my favorite writers/Internet users/people of all time is John Green. Racquel Cable and Katy Broadwell introduced me to his beautiful, witty, usually heart-wrenching books as a teen, and 4.6 billion tears later, I am a changed individual. John Green does this great YouTube series called Crash Course, in which he teaches the entirety of known human history via cartoons and pop culture references. In the Crash Course videos, John Green always recites an open letter. Sometimes it’s a letter to Joseph Stalin for being a terrible father, and sometimes it’s pure admiration of Karl Marx’s beard. Today, I am taking a page from his book (hahahahaha get it cause he’s a writer omg I am so funny), and composing…

An Open Letter to Ketchup

Dear Ketchup,
You’re the worst.

You took tomatoes, which are fresh and pretty and unprocessed and awesome, squeezed all the happiness out of them, added vinegar (thereby diminishing the amount that can be added to salt on chips), and began masquerading as a real condiment.
Also, your texture is gross. It’s like someone mixed sand and syrup, which (despite the alliterated quality of the combination) sticks all up in the nooks and crannies of my mouth for days. Okay, not days, but it feels like days sometimes.

Also, you constantly remind me with your spelling that I am in America and not England. I just want to spell you “catsup,” but I can’t do that without looking like the guy who pronounces encyclopedia as “encyclo-paaaay-dia.” And nobody wants to be that guy.

Also, you often store yourself in a glass bottle, despite the fact that you are precisely textured to never come out of a glass bottle. Why? Did you know that you would make fools of my loved ones on many occasions, causing them to fruitlessly shake and tap the ketchup bottle for many minutes before you rushed out all at once in an impossibly large glob? You are sadistic, ketchup, and it’s hurtful.

Also, I think everyone has just agreed to ignore this, but dingdang it, I’m going to bring it up: what was with your colored ketchup phase? First there was green, with an appearance that can only be described as baby poop. Then it was purple and blue, which were better, but still looked like alien phlegm. Then came pink and orange, and that was little more than a lazy move. Those ketchups just looked sickly! Eventually the colored ketchup fad withered away into oblivion, but unlike Pogs and Furbies, colored ketchup wouldn’t vanish. It just stayed in the fridge forever, because “your father bought it, Emily, and we won’t throw out food that can still be eaten.” Leave it to you, ketchup, to fall right into the overlap between my mom’s frugality and my dad’s affinity for bizarre culinary exploits.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, you have the coup de grace, the upper hand. I may have switched glasses while your back was turned, but you’ve spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder. In the end, no matter how much I despise you, everyone that I love loves you. I may go on and on about your offensive qualities, but I will never win, because my friends are some of your biggest fans. I have friends that eat you with French fries. I have friends that eat you with mashed potatoes. I even have friends that eat you with corn. You’re like the guy in a group of friends who kicks puppies when no one is looking, but I’m the only one who’s ever seen it, and everybody likes you too much to believe me, so I don’t say anything.

You may be universally loved, ketchup, but don’t get too cocky. I know your taste, I know your texture, I know your pronunciation, I know your glass bottle trick, I know your fickle color state, and I know your calculated breeding of loyalty among my comrades.

And I’m on to you.

Best wishes,

Emily Eby

P.S. I lied about the “best wishes” thing.

(Nailed it.)

I Wonder

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 13:37:50 -0400

I wonder a lot of things, and I wonder constantly.

I wonder why the vast majority of Oklahoma drivers drive like twelve-year-olds, at once somehow both lethargic and angry.

I wonder why Loki couldn’t just accept the fact that Odin loved him as much as he loved his own son and realize the political implications of putting a Frost Giant on the throne of Asgard.

I wonder why the author of A Clockwork Orange decided to write half of his book in gibberish, and if my book club would notice if I just read the SparkNotes. (They would.)

I wonder why the University of Oklahoma is forcing me to take a biological science with lab in order to graduate with an English degree.

And I wonder why I am moved by what I am moved by.

If you follow me on Twitter- first of all, I’m sorry about all of the One Direction tweets, and it’s gonna get worse before it gets better. But what I meant to say is that if you follow me on Twitter, you will know that I recently started watching a show called The Newsroom. It is written by Aaron Sorkin, the guy who did West Wing and Social Network, and stars a ton of really good actors that you would probably recognize but might not be able to place.

From the first seven minutes, I was in love with this show. I mean, completely head over heels. The opening segment features protagonist Jeff Daniels going off on a tirade about how America is not the greatest country in the world… but it can be. I could go on and on about the lack of an international consciousness in America today, but I don’t want to bore you. Suffice it to say, The Newsroom is about a lot of people working long hours to raise awareness, keep the people informed, and make a difference.

I hesitate to say “make a difference” because I feel like that phrase is overused. It’s on every classroom poster and in every children’s television show. We’re conditioned to believe that we are meant to “make a difference” in our world.

So why don’t we?

Why is it that so many Americans just get by? We don’t excel. We don’t strive. We don’t go for broke. We just do what is required.

When was the last time you completely threw yourself behind something? A cause or an idea or a leader or a hope. When was the last time you tied your whole self to something without grumbling about it or undermining it or expecting it to fail? When was the last time you were all in?

Everyone has reservations, and I am certainly not advocating blindly joining a cult or anything. But we have gotten so complacent- at least, I have- that I expect things to fail. Sometimes I expect things to fail so much that it feels like I almost want them to. Our government, for example. I believe that there are at least 89,602 things profoundly wrong with the bureaucratic systems that complicate our government. The more I talk about these wrongnesses, the more invested I become in seeing them fail us, because if they do fail us, then that makes me right.

How stupid is that? I want our government to fail because I want to be right. Of course, I truly want our government to function effectively and better the lives of the people who live here, but my behavior and my attitude imply that I want our government to fail. So that I can be right. I’ve got the facade of a Founding Father covering up the intent of a talk radio host.

And it makes me so mad.

I hate that way of thinking! What am I doing sitting here on the internet, complaining about the electoral college and various violations of our civil liberties, when I could be out trying to fix the problems? I wasn’t even going to vote! I mean sure, I think that both candidates are wrong for the spot, but can you believe that I wasn’t even going to vote in my first eligible presidential election? What kind of a person am I?

So what if it’s hard? So what if mailing in an absentee ballot is a little inconvenient? No one ever said that making a difference was easy. But it is important.

I’m sorry about all this. It really got away from me. I guess that my bottom line is… get off your couch. Throw your weight behind something. Invest the gifts you have (I promise, you have something that nobody else does) in a big idea. Forget fear and banish ignorance. Put your whole self into supporting a big dream.

And if I were you, I wouldn’t choose the big dream of Loki’s total world domination. That probably won’t pan out.

The Death of Love

Fri, 07 Sep 2012 12:45:00 -0400

Hello all.

Love is dead now.

Yes, I know that I haven’t blogged for three months and I am lazy and I should address that, but I can’t. I’m too sad.

Because love is dead now.

Let me tell you the story of the world’s most perfect couple.

Will Arnett and Amy Poehler have been married for nine years. They were wed the year before Amy did SNL and Will did Arrested Development. They rose to fame together, and had two beautiful and alliterated baby boys named Archie and Abel Arnett. Amy and Will would play off of each other so well, from movies (Blades of Glory, though not the best film, is hilarious when they are in it) to television (Amy played the nameless “Wife of GOB” on Arrested Development, and Will played Leslie Knope’s horrible blind date on Parks and Recreation). They are both comedy geniuses, not to mention incredibly attractive human beings. They were my favorite couple ever. Ever.

And now…

And that headline isn’t kidding:

And my favorite (although admittedly a rash decision):

I have witnesses who will confirm the fact that I cried a little bit over this. Okay, so maybe I spent a lot of last night whimpering to the sounds of “My Heart Will Go On.” It was warranted. This is my favorite couple of all time! Will is in my favorite TV show and my second favorite movie ever, and Amy is in my third favorite TV show ever. Those are things that I watch to cheer me up when I’m sad! Happiness is sad now!

Things I have said before last night:

“All I want is to grow up and be Amy Poehler and marry my Will Arnett and ride off on a segway into the Pawnee sunset.”
“If Amy Poehler and Will Arnett ever split up, I will not get married because true love isn’t real.”
“Hollywood marriages come and go, but WillAmy is forever.”

Obviously, I won’t hold to those things, but… but… WILLAMY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOREVER!!! With a new season of Arrested Development in development* and Parks and Rec continuing to be the happiest show on television, these feelings of utter despair are bound to resurface! What do I do now?

I suppose I simply have to remember that, although my very favorite couple ever to say “I do” is splitsville [sob], many of the runners up for that title are still going strong…

Chris and Gwyneth: The Classy Talented Couple

Emma and Andrew: The Hilarious Young Couple

Kim and Kanye: The Entirely Too Egotistical To Ever Date Anyone Besides Each Other Couple (I don’t love them so much individually, but as a couple they are perfect)

Kate and William: The Gorgeous (though half-balding) Royal Couple

Steve and Tina: The They’re Both Happily Married To Other People In Real Life But One Time They Were Married In A Movie So Sometimes I Pretend That They’re Actually Married Because They’re Both Favorites Couple

So even though the truest love of all time (besides Wesley and Buttercup, obviously) has died, some other, slightly less true loves are still out there. So I guess I can go on living.

But be aware: if any of the above couples breaks up, you are all responsible for showing up at my apartment door with ice cream and seasons of Community immediately, because my fragile emotional state will have been completely wracked, and I will be lying facedown on the floor sobbing.

And probably singing “My Heart Will Go On.”

This has been An Overdramatic Moment With Emily Eby.

*I just realized that this new season of Arrested Development has been in a state of arrested development for years and I never made that joke. What a waste! What. a. waste.

Highlights for Kamp

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 09:55:29 -0400

Hello again, old internet! As most of you know, I have been at Kanakuk’s Kauai Family Kamp in Branson, MO since May 27th. Kauai is probably my favorite place in America (besides Texas, obviously), and I would gladly sacrifice internet and phone six days a week to stay there forever. There is way too much to actually tell at this point, so I am just going to hit ten of the highlights for you.

1. Our staff dorms are called “The Hammocks,” and our individual rooms are called “Huts.” I weirdly picked my same bed from last year and stumbled upon the greatest living arrangement of my life. Me, Krysten, Keem, Tojo, Madi, and Mac-Daddy are Sassy Hut Six. Stay tuned for SHS quotes throughout the summer.

2. I decided to do Herb Brooks’s inspirational speech from Miracle for the Kauai staff talent show, and even though it isn’t a real talent, I am now doing this speech for families once a week for the next six weeks. I’m also doing a commercial for Taneycomo Bottled Water, which is only funny for us locals.

3. I’m a local now. That’s what my discount at the Tervis Tumbler Store says. I spend about as much time in Branson as I do in Texas. Wrap your mind around that one. I can’t.

4. During staff training week, we did a Paperclip Challenge in which guys had to earn paperclips from the girls for performing embarrassing (yet safe and appropriate) tasks. I paid my buddy Sean a paperclip for responding with “May the Force be with you” every time his name was called. Only one person called his name, however… our head director, Doug Goodwin (AKA Goodie). So worth it.

5. Although I’m deprived of movies and television right now, I do have an Arrested Development-quoting friend and a Star Wars-referencing friend. I used to have two of the Star Wars variety, but one of them is currently in Africa. (Miss you, Yoc!)

6. I have two rosebush scratches, hands that are cracking from being washed so often, and at one point I counted 27 distinct bruises on my legs alone. I told this to my mom in a letter, and she sent me Muppet band-aids. My mom is the best mom.

7. The bread truck did not come to the Kauai Kitchen this week, so Sarah Thompson and I got a purchase order for Country Mart and went to buy 40 loaves of bread. We took every single loaf from their shelves, loaded it into a basket, proceeded to the counter… and realized that we were not at Country Mart, but The Market. #oops

8. In the kitchen, every sentence either starts with “Remember that time…” or “Can we talk about…” and I love it.

9. My cheapo Wal-Mart watched just stopped at 11:13:48, so if I die at that time, someone must burn that watch to bring me back to life or something. I don’t know how that M. Night Shyamalan stuff works. On the plus side, I am now trying out a sweet Spiderman watch that is more Spiderman than watch. It’s awesome.

10. The families have been unbelievably sweet. The Reynolds fam, from Edmond, are here this week, and I absolutely adore them. I’ve also found my mini-me, Olivia, who forced Emily Griffith to make her some glass slippers out of Wal-Mart bags. #precious

I can’t stop!

11. There are enough musically-talented people at kamp that any time after 10:15 PM, there could be a jam session on “the island” featuring two or more guitars, a harmonica, a mandolin, and several voices. I want to learn how to play the jug, and rumor has it that there is one in the prop closet. Updates to come.

12. The kitchen is running unbelievably well under the fearless leadership of Sarah Thompson. She’s amazing, and the kitchies this year are so great. They sing hymns while they do dishes. I’m loving it all.

13. Two days ago there was a MONSOON on the island, and by that I mean there was a tonnnn of rain. Cons are obvious, but pros: the Kiwi Krew (AKA 7-9 year olds) sought shelter in the dining hall, and I got to tell them stories about my childhood. As you may have guessed, Sign Language and Swahili were the first to be told. I also danced to I’ll Make a Man Out of You, which was never supposed to happen for anyone outside the kitchen, but was a lot of fun regardless.

14. I’ve been getting up at 6:00 (What time?) That’s 6:00 (AM or PM?) AM to do my quiet times, and it has been so rewarding. I go out to the Upper Deck and look out over the water and sometimes my breath catches because the Creator so knew what He was doing. I also just read through Hosea 6, which is now tied with Psalm 27 for my favorite chapter in the Bible.

I’ll go one more, just to keep it an even number (that’s a joke, people):

15. I’ve been informed by bunkmate Krysten that not only does everyone have a birthday, they also have a BirthWeek. Therefore, I will be expecting special privileges and/or confetti-filled envelopes beginning Wednesday, June 27. Get on it, people. Let’s see some results.

See you on my next 24! (That’s “Two-Four,” AKA 24-hour break. Ah, Kamp lingo, how I love thee.)

I know I haven’t blogged in a while, and for that I...

Wed, 23 May 2012 01:27:32 -0400

I know I haven’t blogged in a while, and for that I apologize. I have been way too busy losing my phone, eating many small containers of mandarin oranges, and repeatedly watching the Downton Abbey Christmas Special to bother with “writing” and “sleeping” and “brushing my teeth.” (That may be why I’m getting two cavities filled tomorrow… I think I need to reexamine my life.) IRREGARDLESS, I saw this video recently, and it spoke to me in a big way.

Whenever people ask me how school is going, my default answer is a high-pitched, “It’s supergreat and I love everything about it and I haven’t had a bad day since high school amirite high five!” But I’m gonna shoot straight with you guys: this year stunk. It was bad, y’all. I’m not saying that to get pity or anything because I know people who have had way worse years than I did, and all things considered I’m a pretty lucky person. I’m just saying that my talent for perpetual blind optimism gave out around October, and I don’t really have another way of dealing with stuff. (Like I said, need to reexamine my life a bit.) And I didn’t know exactly what I felt like until I saw this video.

Guys, I was a slinky on a treadmill.

Studying my brains out for one test, then almost forgetting my homework for a different class. Solving one awkward situation only to dive headfirst into another one. Pushing through one bad day but waking up to a very different kind of bad day. I felt like that whiny kid in that book I used to hate:

What a stupid kid! I hated that kid, and I hated myself for occasionally feeling like that kid. I want to be Lucy Pevensie or The Little Engine That Could or [Clifford’s owner] Emily Elizabeth all the time! Strong! Brave! Optimistic!

But the fact is that some years you’re going to be Lucy, and some years you’re going to be that little punk Alexander. Some years you’re going to feel like Rocky on the stairs and some years you’re going to feel like the slinky on the treadmill.

And that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Nobody would watch a movie in which the protagonist just has an awesome time with everything and then the credits roll. Westley has to be kidnapped by the Dread Pirate Roberts (who never leaves any survivors)! Ron Burgundy has to be shaken in his position as head honcho at Channel 4 News! The astronaut has to encounter the ghost of the dead ambassador in order to realize that he’s been in love with the beautiful but unassuming cellist all along! (That third one may have been a dream that I had. Just roll with it.) Rough patches are all part of your story, and it’s only when things look the worst that they can start heading for the best.

Some of my best friends have had awful years as well (like I said, way worse than mine). In my opinion, these ladies deserve nothing but 80 or more of the best years ever, followed by a heaven full of Star Wars, ukeleles, and Dr. Pepper. But when they’re not getting the years that they deserve, I want them to know that when the Big Author Upstairs is pulling the strings, this is not forever. Life’s gonna head in a better direction soon. This too shall pass.

So keep it up, you beautiful Little Blue Engines. Carry on, you terrific Thomas Edisons. Stay strong, you spectacular Slinkies on a Treadmill. This video fades to black at the end, but I believe with all my heart that that little slinky made it to the top of the treadmill. The question is, do you?

Do. You. Believe.

(Okay, if a tiny Joseph Gordon Levitt from Angels in the Outfield doesn’t inspire you, then you are 100% robot. Just a fact. Eby out.)

I Feel Creepy

Wed, 02 May 2012 15:54:00 -0400

Preface: I am going to spend this blog post unashamedly admiring God’s creations. Sorry I’m not sorry.

I am only 20 years old.

I am far too young to feel as creepy as I do on a regular basis.

What makes me feel creepy on a regular basis?

Movie stars.

I’m not talking about movie star creepiness as in: “did you see that Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield were out getting coffee the other day and they were soooo cute in those pictures omg favorite celebrity couple ever!” Everybody is a little creepy in that way, and it’s really nothing to be ashamed about (unless you feel that way about Jersey Shore characters, in which case you are what is wrong with America).

I’m talking about seeing a kid, a small child, in a movie, and then seeing some guy in another movie much later and thinking, “Mm, yeah, I like the way that your face is” and then finding out that they are THE SAME PERSON. Because in that case, you feel like you maybe sort of in a way just checked out a little kid. You totally didn’t, but you feel like you did.

This happens way more with male stars than it does with female stars, because most female stars that start out looking this precious:

often end up looking, well…

You know.

So who is it exactly that makes me feel this creepy?

Oh, I think you know.

Josh Hutcherson.

Josh Hutcherson plays Peeta in (the oft-blogged about) Hunger Games.

The problem is that when I was 16, I saw this movie called Bridge to Terabithia, starring Josh Hutcherson, and he kind of looked like this:

Yeah, you know, like a little child.

The real kicker is that he was around 14 when he filmed that role. So he isn’t a small child. He just looks like one.

Either way, I feel like a total creep whenever someone brings it up now! (Also, I shed a couple of residual tears, because that is the saddest freaking movie I have ever seen. Seriously, do not watch Bridge to Terabithia. The cuteness is not worth the sadness. It’s just not.)

I have similar (although not identical) feelings about Freddie Highmore. He was basically the British version of Josh Hutcherson, starring in Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Finding Neverland, and August Rush. He was precious!

Look at his widdle face! He’s so tiny and-

Uh, wat.

What ‘append to you, Chalee? You grew up like a right ‘andsum young chap!

Don’t get me wrong, he’s no Josh Hutcherson. But he’s definitely that hipstery, lanky, pasty handsome that those Englishmen all got going on (Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, et cetera).

But it was not that long ago that August Rush came out! He was just a tiny prodigy child getting kidnapped by Robin Williams, like, yesterday! And now he’s handsome? What is that about?

Sigh.

Do you see now why I feel weird about all of this? I’m (mostly) not creepy. But lately, I’ve been feeling super-creepy at least twice a week!

But never fear, dear reader. For there is one instance in which I have been absolutely rescued from my feelings of lurkishness, pervertism, and general creepery.

And that is in the instance of Neville Longbottom.

God bless Neville Longbottom.

When I first read the Harry Potter books, I pictured Neville as a chunky, derpy little guy. And when the first film came out, sure enough:

The actor, Matthew Lewis, was adorable, chunky, and so endearing (not to mention that he won Gryffindor the House Cup that year!), but by no means was he an attractive kid.

In the next film, it was pretty much the same.

And then he started to lose the baby fat:

And then he let his hair get all rumply:

And then he learned the art of brooding:

And then he started rockin’ those sweaters:

And then he became a total hero:

And then one day in the real world:

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Even the great JK Rowling was surprised at the Matthew Metamorphosis:

“When I went to the read through [for the film]… they put all the tables from the Great Hall into this big square so everyone’s facing inwards for the read through. And facing me were Dan and Rupert and Emma and Evanna and Bonnie and the main lot. And there’s this really big cool guy sitting there, with a bit of stubble and wearing this woolen hat, and a leather jacket, and I didn’t recognize him, and my eyes pass on, and I sort of thought, ‘That will be the guy they’ve got playing McLaggen.’ And then I thought, ‘Where’s Matthew?’ and I looked at him and thought, my god, when did that happen?”

But here’s the thing: Matt Lewis didn’t just spring suddenly into attractiveness!

It’s not like I saw a picture of him one day and he was suddenly a stud!

I was there the whole time!

I watched his handsomeness develop gradually over the course of the franchise!

If I get freaked out by it, I can just slowly scroll through this very blog post! He went from awkward child to good-looking adult at a normal rate! No Josh Hutchersituation or Freddie Highworry required! It is then that I remember that the same thing that happened to Matt also happened to those two guys. The only difference is that I wasn’t around to see it.

So there you have it. Thanks to Neville Longbottom, I no longer feel so creepy.

And neither should you, reader. Neither should you.

Brode: An Ode to the Bromance

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 03:01:38 -0400

What is so great about Troy and Abed?
Is there anything special about Bill and Ted?
The bond between two men, closer than brothers
Felt only by them, but observed by all others
The name is brand new, but the practice is old
It goes back to David and Jonathan, I’m told.
We call it a bromance a la JD and Turk
The next obvious question is, “How does it work?”
A bromance is simple, yet deeply sincere
Like Cliffy and Norm, it might start with a beer
Or by chance on a train, like Harry and Ron
Or just needing a roommate, like Sherlock and John
But those are just friendships until times get tough
And just getting along will not be enough
When Marshall got dumped by his fiancee one night,
Ted was right there for him, and things turned out alright.
And Sam, who helped Frodo the whole journey through,
Proved his love when he shouted, “I’ll carry you!”
Sulley and Mike came to blows on the entire Boo scandal
But Mike did come back and save Sulley from Randall
See, friendship is one thing, and it’s all well and good
But a bromance means much more (at least, it should!)
It’s a connection first felt, and then proven, and then
Proven and reproven, again and again.
It’s Merry and Pippin, it’s Cory and Shawn,
It’s Rick Blaine and Renault (although that’s off-and-on)
And this isn’t just fiction. If you think that I’m loony,
Just take a quick look at Brad Pitt and George Clooney
Or the Bostonian Affleck and Damon alliance
Their brochemistry is practically a new branch of science.
The bromance is powerful, the bromance is pure
The bromance will last for forever, I’m sure.
You want proof that in space, bromance will live on?
Look to Kirk and his Spock, Chewie and his Han.
It’s the art form of friendship, the perfect male bond
There’s only one question the bromance has spawned…

What’s a bromance for girls? I don’t mean to complain
But the search for this term just might drive me insane.
I would use the “girl bromance” term every day
But it’s hard to come up with one that doesn’t sound, well… (you all know I’m going to say it, it rhymes too well to ignore) … gay
“Homance” is degrading, “sismance” is lame
My suggestion of “ladymance” fills me with shame
It’s Leslie and Ann! It’s Thelma and Louise!
Claree and Ouiser (for the rhyme, let’s just call her “Ouise”)!
There are many examples, but they all have no title
This word is necessary- nay, it is vital!
“Womance.” There. That’s the best that I’ve got
And I’m really too sleepy to give it much thought.
So I’ll leave this one open, it’s all up to you.
What should we call it? I haven’t a clue.

But whoever it is, two girls or two guys,
Or one of each kind, Jack-and-Liz style allies,
I salute these strong friendships, and thank God for mine.
Bromance, the honor and glory is thine.