Uh, We're Alive...

Update:  Hola!!!  We've been pretty bad about blogging lately.  It's embarrassing for us, you should all know. But it's like we had to spend the last few days of summer doing absolutely nothing before we started school. And now that we have started school, we barely have time for the important stuff (like breathing), let alone more enjoyable pursuits (like blogging).  So, please forgive us, please, please don't give up on us, and we pinky promise that out reckless irresponsibility will come to an end.  Today.

Have a Happy Labor Day!

I'm Too Sleepy to Think Up a Clever Title...

Adolescence has had a reverse effect on me.  I'm pretty sure it was supposed to boost my interest in appearance, popularity, and boys.  Instead I live in old sweats and jeans, my mother literally rejoices when I have any sort of social outing, and  it just occurred to me the other day, that, if anything, I like boys less than I did when I was nine.  I'm not completely sure why, but ever since I almost killed myself falling in love when I was thirteen, I haven't really felt any butterflies over a guy for a long time.  Even in France.

But, dear me, old Hollywood actors make me feel dreamy.

It started when I first watched Mary Poppins.  I was four, maybe five, so it was really quite platonic, but I figured that when I got married, my Prince Charming had to look like Dick Van Dyke.

Showered, of course.

Stupid Mary was totally in the way, though.

Then a few years back, I watched Giant, and, besides crying my eyeballs out and being depressed for days because of the injustices of the world, I fell madly in love with James Dean.

And I still am.

I really felt his pain.  Being brilliant, misunderstood, and kind of weird is annoying at first, then terribly lonely. Add unrequited love to the mix, and you're bound to die young.  Of course, this didn't quite occur to me when I was twelve, but I still felt his pain. In my innocent twelve year old way.

When I first saw James Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life, I thought  he was kind of ugly.  Then, I saw him Rear Window.  I truly believe age did wonderful things to him.

'Course, Grace Kelly is the more impressive of the two.

Last summer, I watched To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time.   Atticus Finch Gregory Peck is my soulmate.

Sigh...

Except that he's dead.