Between me and Chris's Netflix viewing habits, the program has decided we like movies where "opposites attract". And by that they mean movies starring Jack Nicholson and human females.
So last week I watched "As Good As It Gets" which you are forgetting is AMAZING. It's legit. It won 2 Oscars (Best Actor for Jack Nicholson, Best Actress for Helen Hunt) and was nominated in 5 other categories. So keep your precious judgements to yourself!
I've been thinking a lot about love recently and one quote from Jack Nicholson's character, Melvin Udall, made my heart melt.
"I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman on earth. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and how you are with Spencer, "Spence," and in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me."
I don't want kids or marriage (at this point). I'm not focused on an end-result. But one thing I'm absolutely positive of is that I want to be special to someone. I want one person who sees me as this gem, even if everyone else is missing it.
I like myself - I really do. And I believe I have the qualities that would make someone fall head-over-heals in love with me. That's not to say I'm the best person in the world. I haven't worn anything but workout clothes in a week. But I don't want the love of the entire world. I just want it from one person who isn't afraid to go all in and really really love me. And who is ready to be cherished hard in return.
The stupid thing is, I don't think I really knew that's what I wanted before. Not in the logical, action-oriented part of my brain, anyway. And now that's I'm clued into that, it's easier to start making choices that benefit me and prevent me from saying "ummm... yeah that could work for me!" when it doesn't.
I'm encouraged. I know I get what I want; I'm just not sure of the timeline quite yet.
My new improv team is in the process of shedding our 'slave name' and re-branding ourselves. Each of us was allowed to suggest one team name. My choice: Karate for Dummies.
This name is near and dear to my heart because it's inspired by my pathetic childhood self. My mom would take my older sister and I to the Forbes Library; while Carrie perused cool teen dramas (including Spellbound by Christopher Pike that had a sex scene in it that I could never find), I typically went for the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure and books about space, geology, or dinosaurs. But on one fateful day, I found a book on how to practice karate.
Truth be told, it couldn't have been a "...for Dummies" book since they published their first "how-to" software guide in '91 and didn't expand into general interest topics until the late 90's, but according to the Forbes online collections, there are two books that it could have been:
Karate Made Easy by Ralph Corrigan
or
Facing the Double-Edged Sword: the Art of Karate for Young People by Terrence Webster-Doyle.
While I don't remember the title, I do remember the instructional photos. I studied the poses in my room and drank in the details of each photo, calculating how far apart the feet should be, what direction the fingers should point, and where that clenched fist should rest on the chest.
But we lived in a small home that wasn't much bigger than my current apartment and soon my sister uncovered what I was up to behind my closed bedroom door. She teased me relentlessly. I shamefully returned the book to the library and claimed I was over karate.
Although I had given up on the sport, I never gave up believing you could learn anything from a book. As a high school sophomore, I impulsively bought an electric guitar because I thought, "There's only six strings, how hard could it be?" and picked up a copy of Guitar for Dummies. This actually worked; I've never had a lesson and play guitar well today, but what took me eight years to achieve I could have easily done in two years with regular lessons. But I didn't want lessons. What I liked most of all was pouring over the book and figuring it out on my own. I felt like a scientist.
To this day, it's hard to see a bookstore and resist the temptation to go in. Bookstore have an irresistible energy. They're so full of potential. In those silent books are world of information and stories, just waiting to be unleashed.
In December of last year, I bought Making a Good Script Great so I could transfer a story from my head in a logical, coherent screenplay. In January, I bought Easy Spanish: Step-by-Step because I wanted to be prepared if I met my (ex)-boyfriend's Mexican parents. In February, I bought The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet because a friend said it was a great story and beautifully written. When I moved a year ago, I fretted over which books to keep and which to give away, just like the stars of Hoarders who can't let go of empty soda bottles and pet-hair tumbleweeds. I absolutely love books.
It's funny now that I thought I could teach myself an ancient art form with a 4th grade reading level guide book, but I admire Young Susie's willingness to try. That's one of the things that I still like about myself: if something interests me, my (lack of) skill doesn't prevent me from pursuing it. I go after my dreams and am attracted to people who aren't bystanders in their lives, but are a driving force toward their success.
