The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Poetry Pants! written @ 4:10 PM on November 09, 2003 While I didn't have that much work to do, I decided to take an opportunity to jump the NKU ship and swim for home this weekend. It was a good thing I got out of there; I was going nuts, mostly because all I ever do is work these days. I realized I have almost completely forgotten how to have fun, or my definiton of "fun" is completely warped like Grade D wood (thank you, NKU scene shop). Friday night, I watched my brother's hockey team kick the shit out of the Mason Comets 8-3. It was exciting to watch the boys sneak punches and check the other players and--hell-- knock 'em flat across the ice. That was fun. My dad, Coach Reno, dressed to the nines in a suit and carrying around a play book, seemed pleased. Saturday, the brother and I had-- *gasp*-- some sibling bonding time at the movie theaters, thanks to Matrix Revolutions. Overall, not a bad flick. Helluva lot better than Reloaded. I would concur that this Matrix film offers poetic justice. A lot of people said they didn't understand it, but I tend to understand exactly what Morpheus, the Oracle, and the others ramble on about, and the ending made perfect sense to me. I would encourage my readers to go and see it, if only to bring closure to this series. --WARNING: MOVIE SPOILER AHEAD. SCROLL DOWN TO FINISH READING-- With that said, I would like to say how disappointed I am that Agent Smith did not end up winning the grand prize of world domination after all. In fact, more and more often these days I find myself leaving the theaters disappointed that the bad guys never win. The final fight scene between Neo and Smith was pretty groovy by my standards. Sort of one of those, "you gotta see it" things. A lot of characters tend to bite the dust in this one, though. Trinity was a sad one to see go. The Oracle and Seraph-- though not technically dead-- were unfortunate additions to the legions of Smith. And, lastly, Neo and Smith-- which is where poetic justice comes into play. Neo was positive, Smith was a negative factor in the Architect's equation, and they ultimately cancelled each other out. And, going back to Mrs. Hume's tenth grade English, Neo became the classic Christ figure in the final scenes. So that's that. --END OF SPOLIER. CONTINUE-- Saturday night, Mom called Jordan's mother, and the three of us went to The Putter's Tavern for an evening of husband-bashing. My mom met Sue at her Monday night troubled marriages/divorced meetings at St. John's, and they've been rather steady friends for the past couple of months. I went with them because I was not about to spend yet another Saturday night doing homework as is my custom, plus I have to admit my curiosity often times gets the best of me. I was quiet most of the night while Mom and Sue discussed their situations over the ecclectic combination of alcohol and coffee. Mom was tame as she talked about Dad; Sue was a little more aggressive when she mentioned "the disgusting roach" that her ex-husband had been. All in all, an odd evening, I suppose. I can't say that I could call it a positive, productive night; I think maybe I went along in an effort to learn to harden my heart. Today I went to my high school's craft show, but I wasn't there long. I was too busy dodging people I recognized, and I mostly wanted to see what they did with that monstrous 12-foot panoramic painting I did when I was a senior. Turns out they made a wooden frame and hung it above the computers in the library. It was a nice place to put it. Afterwards I did some errands for classes. I picked up a pair of jeans at Goodwill-- with a special purpose in mind. Ready for this? "Poetry pants." Take your favorite sayings, poetry, song verses, whatever and paint them on a pair of jeans in gold or silver-- or graffiti! The perfect method of self-expression for fashion. Think of the possibilities for patches, buttons, and other knick-knacks! Tastefully done, and it could be a hit. But... this is my idea. So if you're going to do this, make sure you put the Restricted symbol with Sam Reno next to it. After that, they are YOUR pair of paints. So what do you think? A crazed genius or enlightened madwoman? *evil grin* We'll see how far on campus this trend will go. They don't call me Fancypants Sam at the dorms for nothin'!
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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