Do You Ever Feel Like You're Fooling Everyone?

The movie I love this week (and now, and forever) is Elizabethtown.

Nevermind that this film is written by one of my favorite screenwriters (Cameron Crowe of Jerry Maguire & Almost Famous fame....though he has plenty of other masterpieces to pick and choose from), and nevermind that I love both Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom (though that is a big draw), this film has the unfailing ability to make me happy at any moment in time.

As a former film snob (my undergrad was in film production), I have come to appreciate the ability to acknowledge that I like certain films without justification. Elizabethtown is, by far, not Crowe's best work, and yet, it makes me smile. And isn't that the base of it all?

Film is entertainment. And what a great many things that word "entertainment" encompasses. But at its core entertainment is something that makes us feel something. Makes an audience relate to some aspect of the human condition, whether that be romance or grief or tragedy or all of the above and thensome.

In my case, any time a film makes me feel any of these emotions or all of the above, I lump it into the category of "inspiring." And not in the "inspirational film" way...like Tuesdays with Morrie or Pay It Forward...but in the way that experiences are genuinely moving.

And it's hard to be genuinely moving in the modern age. It's so much easier to fake compassion, empathy. But no matter what it comes across as forced. It cannot compare to scenes like this one:

You Failed

Elizabethtown

— MOVIECLIPS.com

I know it's not for everyone, and it hardly has the impact of the "You had me at hello" scene from Jerry Maguire. But when a film can make me feel as though there are worse things than failing (which, in essence, is the worst thing that could possibly happen to you), then, hey...who am I to knock it?

Because at the end of the day, I like stories about epic shortcomings that cause the utter downfall of the main character. Because that's how I think most people feel on a daily basis. ("God, I have to get up and do this nothing again? To what? Go home and do nothing?") But there are times that move us all...and it's those moments in between: the "flurry of almost-romance," the missing of exit 60Bs, the near misses of life that result in fiascos. These things provide grounding. They afford us the opportunity of reflection.

And no one reflects better on life lessons we should have learned than Cameron Crowe.

Impossible to forget but hard to remember,

Iconically Leni

Planes, Trains, and Movies.

You see, I have this weird thing. I've kept a record of every stub I've ever received since I was a tween: every plane, train, and movie. Why?

I don't know.

But it's something I have a hard time letting go of. I realize it has the tendency towards hoarding. And yet, I still find myself yearning to keep every stub, as though its physical presence could somehow reunite reality and nostalgia.

I know it doesn't.

But I cherish them anyway. The same way I continue watching movies that thrilled me upon first viewing. These train, plane, and movie stubs act as triggers for inspiration, memory.

I know every time I look at my Titanic movie ticket, I will think of how my mom surprised me at the bus stop on opening day. She rolled down the window and said, "Hey. I heard you wanted to see Titanic." My Italian train stub will remind me of how I got a citation for putting my feet up on the seat across from me: "destruction of public property," they said. My plane ticket from this past Christmas will remind me of failed relationships and blizzards.

I'm not sure these memories actually happened the way my mind chooses to recall them, but the thoughts they refresh lend themselves so much to story, I can't help but to thank nostalgia.

And perhaps that's a reason to collect things. Meaningless things like seaglass or rocks or stamps. Because of the times they represent. Everyone chooses their collection, but we all have them.

Collections of things that we don't want to see scattered over a garbage dump.

And if that makes me a hoarder of meaningless objects, so be it. I'd rather have the memories.

Peace, love, and nostalgia,

Leni-collector-buns

But What I Don't Understand Is Why?! (Female Edition)

So as not to continue my discrimination, here are the weird celebrity female fascinations. These may not be as out there as my male friends because, let's face it, most females in the public eye are beautiful women. So, these are just figures I find myself drawn to in photos, film, music, television, and literature.

Samantha Brown: Travel Channel Host. Yes, yes I recognize that I had another host from that network on yesterday's post, but what can I say? I'm a travel junkie. Samantha is a fantastic host and just an all-around cool chick. I'd love to go on one of those weekend getaways with her, go dancing and then relax in that amazing hotel I know she booked with a glass of wine. She's also from New Hampshire, which makes me love her infinitely more.

Evelyn Nesbit: The Original "It" Girl. I just love the photos of her. She is so photogenic. And yes, I realize that she was at the center of a murder trial that rivals current scandals (see: Amanda Knox), but she represents that tragic beauty that people often crave of their starlets. Or maybe that's just me. It's just me? Oh....AWKWARD.

Edie Sedgwick: Another "It" girl. Andy Warhol's muse, well, for a little bit anyway. Living in Pittsburgh, there is some Andy Warhol overdose at times, but I could watch Edie Sedgwick for hours. She's vivacious and interesting and her early death from a cocktail of alcohol and barbiturates was incredibly sad. Also, she's reportedly the basis for some of the songs in Blonde on Blonde by Dylan. As in Bob Dylan. Yeah. That makes her pretty effin' awesome.

Elizabeth Wurtzel: When I was sixteen, Elizabeth Wurtzel was my gurl. I know not everyone feels the same way about her, but to me she is timeless--gorgeous, flawed, and unafraid to delve into her demons. I will always love her just for speaking to my high school self.

Miranda July: If you haven't heard of her, google her. Now. Like, right now. My love affair with her began when I watched Me and You and Everyone We Know. She is a brilliant performance artist, writer, filmmaker, and actress and the entire planet needs to know her. Yes, that is all. Plus, she's from my neck of the woods...gotta love those New Englanders.

Zooey Deschanel: Okay, so I understand why on this one. Zooey Deschanel rocks. I mean that's it, plain and simple. I love She & Him. I love her choice in acting projects. And I love hellogiggles. She's basically living the life I wish I had and looks adorable while doing it.

Maureen Johnson: Another woman that if you do not know her, discover her...now. A YA author with a killer sense of humor and awesomely awesometastically real teen characters. I love reading her. I'm 27 and I love reading her. If my YA thesis comes out nearly as good as her work, I'd feel complete.

I think I might just want to BE these women...well...at least the ones who didn't die tragically,

Starstruck Leni

But What I Don't Understand Is Why?!

I wish I knew why I have such an affinity for crushes on strange famous people. I've decided to compile these people into a list and assign justifications (or rationalizations...your call) as to why: --Jim Carrey. This may have something to do with Eternal Sunshine or it may have something to do with Ace Ventura, I'm not quite sure, all I know is I think he is a beautiful, beautiful man.

--Jack Black: Uh...he's hilarious, and I'm a sucker for funny dudes. I even love him in Shallow Hal. I'm going to say that the reason for this affinity has to do with the fact that laughing makes you happy and happiness activates the horn-doggyness (I'm really scientific and stuff). Nevermind the fact that the one stand-up comic I dated was a douchebag of the highest order.

--Billy Bob Thornton: He dated Angelina Jolie. He has a band. He wore a vial of blood around his neck (crazy points!). And did I mention he dated Angelina freakin' Jolie when she was still in her knife-licking phase?

--Pete Doherty: Yeah...I don't know why either.

--Anthony Bourdain: He smokes. He drinks. He swears. He also travels, cooks, and has some of the most luscious travel/food writing I have ever read. Need I say more?

There's a whole separate genre for famous females that I have girl crushes on, but that's a mule of a different color, worthy of a whole separate entry.

I need my head examined,

Leni-lovin'-the-crazies

Luck or Perseverance

"Luck (n): the force that seems to operate for good or ill in a person's life, as in shaping circumstances, events, or opportunities"

"Perseverance (n): steady, persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., especially in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement."
(definitions courtesy of dictionary.com)

As a young woman, I often attested any great successes or failures I had to the force known as "luck." This may have something to do with my Irish heritage and the misleading phrase "luck of Irish." However, as I matured I realized: the assumption that all the things I have accomplished in my life are due to mere shifts of wind and chance is actually quite insulting.

Anything that has ever gotten me anywhere has been due to sheer willpower and perseverance. This is not to say that I have not found myself in circumstances that were due to pure chance (see: my 7th birthday when I won a raffle at McDonalds for a brand new bicycle. Oh how those pink handlebars gleamed with victory). However, I pride myself on the fact that I have a general stick-to-itiveness. The "if at first you don't succeed, try try again" philosophy.

Examining the successes in my life lends further creedance to perseverance. When I wanted to be a gymnast, I devised an at-home regiment of conditioning and stretching that provided me with the opportunity to move up several levels in a single year. When stage fright prevented me from pursuing acting, I took acting classes and auditioned for short films (and...surprise surprise...I got the roles!). When grad school beckoned, I spent hours devising my portfolio, reviewing it with mentors past and present.

So I suggest a toast to the underdog, perseverance--often overlooked in our instant culture.

As for my failures, we'll chalk all of those up to bad luck.

Leni.

Bucket Lists, Or Why You Should Never Make Them

When I was sixteen, I made a bucket list. It was (get this), inspired by:

THIS movie.

I suppose when you're a teen in the early '00s there was nothing better than a Nicholas Sparks book-turned-movie.

While sorting through my old journals (which, yes, I keep all of them and they have perservered through the many moves I have gone through since leaving home), I found this list. The range of my teenage goals quickly goes from the attainable ("Live in a foreign country") to the ridiculous ("Win a Pulitzer, Academy Award, Tony Award & Nobel Prize").

At the time I composed the list, all the goals seemed unattainable. Being able to cross off a few felt good. But, I couldn't help but feel the silent judging of my teenage counterpart. Early on in the list are things like "Get married before twenty-six" or "Be your collegiate valedictorian." Really? Thanks, teenage Leni.

So, with the crushing humiliation of disappointing my former self, I made a new list--adjusting it to reflect current goals and past goals that I view attainable. And while I will continue to save the original bucket list (*fingers crossed for that Nobel Prize*), I feel that the current one is more realistic, and affords me to ability to cross more things off.

And in the end, is there anything more satisfying than scribbling out goals attained?

I think not.

Love and to-do-lists,

Unattainable Leni

Say No More, Mon Amour

Borders, Inc. has announced its demise. Complete liquidation. As a former employee of the chain, with many friends still employed by the company, the news was devestating. While I understand why physical book stores are on the verge of extinction, as a writing student and book-lover, it is terrifying.

Being a Borders bookseller wasn't just a "job." It was a community, a family, a passion. People bound together over their love of the arts. And the employees and artists at Borders believed in their work.

I changed positions & stores from supervisor to bookseller to barista back to supervisor again for almost four years. The company changed its internal structure frequently and sometimes drastically, but when times got tough, the employees of Borders held hands with change and skipped through the manga section...literally.

And it might be the sickening proclivity I have towards nostalgia, but I will always look back on my time at Borders and think: Man, I miss working there.

That job was the closest I ever got to being IN the movie Empire Records (best first job movie ever). And for fulfilling that fantasy, Borders, I bid you a sweet sweet adieu set to a soundtrack of the Gin Blossoms.

You will be missed.

XOXO,
Leni "Did You Find Everything Okay?" Bookseller

I Never Wanna See A Sponge Again

Tomorrow is my birthday. Was hoping to go out tonight with friends, but have yet to hear back from any of them. Aw, shucks. That's okay. I'm sure the gathering tomorrow will more than make up for it.

As for right now, I am sitting in my apartment mulling over all the tasks I need to complete prior to people coming over tomorrow (dishes, vacuuming, food, blah blah blah). Why is it that I only clean when I have people coming over? Or rather, I only do in-depth cleaning then. It is literally (and god I hate using that word, but it's apropos here) the only time I care about scrubbing down my light switch panels and floorboards.

I love that I assume people would be looking at these things. As though my close and personal friends would suddenly not become as such because I have a dirt smudge on the floor. Who knew that dirt accumulated where we walk? Huh...strange.

On the up side, I was able to reorganize all the writing that I rediscovered. All these poems from college. Funny how the inspirations seem forever lost, but I can still go back and cut, thrift away words from them. It almost feels like stealing from my twenty-year-old self. Perhaps it is. She probably wouldn't've taken my criticism very well.

Well, the sponges and vacuum have taken to name-calling so I must attend to that.

Peace, love, and birthday balloons,
Almost-27

Sneezing in Pittsburgh

Wow! It has been a gosh-darn while! Uncool, Leni, so uncool.

Since I've last posted, I have moved to Pittsburgh, started grad school, lost my job, been broken up with, started dating again, started writing two young adult novels, and played a heckload of darts.

Will be updating here more often as I am now on summer break (much to come on the passings of June in the next few days: recap of Bonnaroo '11, OBX, and the great karaoke revelation).

I live in Squirrel Hill: an adorable little neighborhood that begs for the use of the word "quaint." The variety of restaurants and local markets give me an opportunity to explore a variety of cuisines and cooking styles. One of my particular favorites is The Silk Elephant. Reasonably priced thai tapas and an excellent wine selection (though, the last time I went I ordered a cucumber martini that wasn't too shabby either!).

My lease is ending soon, and as much as I've grown to love my little Squirrel Hill haven, I will be moving out towards the Dormont area. The past few months, I've grown closer with people out in that direction, and it makes more sense to be out there rather than twenty minutes away. I am hoping to rent a full-blown house with two other people.

This, of course, gives me a false sense of grown-up-ness. As though renting a house is the same as owning one and therefore I have earned my almost-27-year-old status.

Blech. That reminds me that my birthday is this Friday. I love birthdays, and this year I am having a themed party, though I am not sure that anyone will be participating in my awesome idea--"Dress As Your Favorite Comic/Sci-Fi Character." Easy, right? Put on a pair of undies and call yourself Leni-Woman: Defender of Mispronounced Names or whatever. I'd accept it for creativity points.

Anyway, I can't believe that I'm almost thirty. Making more progress than I have in the past few years, but it's been slow at best. Stupid recession. Stupid collapsing retail empires. Stupid...stupidness.

Yep. That's maturity for ya.

Love,
Leni-I've-Had-Too-Many-Energy-Drinks-Cat