an attempt at reflection:

suddenly, i simultaneously resemble the grudge-holding, slightly neurotic character of billy (vincent gallo) and the people-pleasing, filled with ennui character of layla (christina ricci) in buffalo '66.

let's start with layla. (if this was an academic paper, i'd be criticized for reverse the order of items in my "thesis." well, this isn't academia. i hope you're okay with that.) layla goes about her own business, happily tap-dancing in class before she is kidnapped in the hallway by billy. he covers her mouth. he pulls her hair. billy "coerces" her into her car (which consisted of yelling, mostly), which she drives to his parents' house (because he can't drive a "shifter") and is introduced as his significant other. for the rest of the movie, she goes to a diner with him, goes bowling, gets a hotel room, and basically becomes his "reason" for life. layla is swept away by a crazy person who--only hours earlier--was just released from prison. she has choices, she has outs, but she doesn't take them. and it's not like billy is prince charming; he bosses her around. right before meeting his parents, billy said, "if you make me look bad, i'll never talk to you again. ever." right before billy leaves the hotel, she pleads with him to come back. "i love you," she says. billy mesmerizes her. she understands him.

here's the analysis part (again, if this was an academic paper, i'd be criticized for exposing my "skeleton" and intentions with explicit verbal cues instead of just getting to it): i've lately been wrestling with my own derailment from my seemingly content, bubble-like life as a student, friend, and daughter. you know: the usual. i wasn't whole-heartedly dedicated to continuing my education or to constructing an life independent from other people (like friends, or my parents' expectations, or the desire to be in a relationship with a boy). i let the newness of graduation freedom, the fear of confrontation, and my own passive personality sweep in and forge a new direction for my life. i didn't even throw a fit. i let billy in.

billy-- a character that simply could NOT be played by anyone BUT vincent gallo-- was semi-wronged by a strip club owner that he spends nearly the entire movie trying to track down so he can blow his brains out. he's mentally, emotionally, and physically cut off from the world. socially awkward. slightly violent. self-destructive. a thinker. in some ways, billy tries to reason with societal acceptance. he puts on a show for his parents (including his football-obsessed mother played by angelica huston) in hopes they'll break out of their prejudices to acknowledge him as he is. layla tries to hold his hand to put on the front that they are a happy couple for his parents, and billy freaks out. "we are a couple that doesn't touch," he scolds. when he's released from prison, he asks if he can go back inside. the world according to billy is full of goons and smelly people. he shows some semblance of feeling by buying layla a chocolate milk at the donut shop. he's not entirely unredeemable. he's just billy.

billy is not entirely rational. he makes decisions based on deep-seeded revenge and rebellion. i've been skeptical about the goodness of humanity for a while now, and many different events in life confirm for me that people just plain suck. my unemployment has caused more than one person to explode with anger; one even told me that i am "the greatest disappointment" of her life. at the time, i didn't think this statement would affect me so profoundly. but it has. i'm a disappointment? then 1) what it takes to not disappoint someone is clearly beyond my means, and 2) fine, i'll show you a frickin disappointment. another certain someone in my life criticizes me for not acknowledging his actions, when his words (and philosophies on relationships, interactions between men/women, etc.) often undermine and contradict what he does. like billy, peoples' outward actions mean nothing to me unless they are backed with a true, legitimate character beneath. i don't know what it means anymore to be loved. or to love. my heart is cold.

yet, despite that coldness, i still seek acceptance. i want the people in my life to accept me, to advise me in productive ways, and to desire me not based on what they think i can be. i'm flawed. so are you.

so what? perhaps we all have conflicting aspects to our personalities: sometimes one screws up, one tries to console the other, both aren't strong enough (or viable enough) to exist as independent entities. they depend on each other.

or perhaps some of us have it figured out. i'm not one of those people.

breaking up with bro-dy

it's a well-known fact that brody jenner is dreamy: dark hair, long eyelashes, tan, rich, and "cool."

however, it's also a well-known fact that brody is, indeed, somewhat of an asshole. he hangs out with the hollywood elite (he's step-sister IS kim kardashian), has been nicknamed the Prince of Malibu (strike one), and routinely makes out with the so-cal blondes like haylie duff, nicole richie (pre-harlow, of course), kristen cavallari and lauren conrad. actually, his douchebag treatment of LC on season 3 of "the hills" put my celebrity crush on tenuous ground. strike two. don't mess with lauren.



strike three for brody all started with a harmless perusal of MTV's website to search for a TV show to watch online. (i don't have cable.) in the bottom right-hand corner, a picture of a bright orange and yellow sunset popped up with the show's title "BROMANCE" in silver block letters beneath it.

seriously????, i thought. so lame.

but then i looked closer at the black and white face centered as the "sun" in the sunset. perfect jawline. dark, mischevious eyes.

brody. jenner.

i clicked on the list of episodes. titles like "little jeans, big hearts" and "bro-athon" and "broast!" flooded my page. i suppressed the desire to gag.

it gets worse: MTV describes the show as an exploitation of an epidemic in hollywood, the "bromance" between two guys. the show's premise relies on the popular notion that Brody is "looking for that one special guy to join his elite entourage." the reality TV show sought out "regular joes" to become "bros vying for the chance of a liftime" who participate in a series of challenges, hang time (including sky-diving in las vegas, hanging out with playboy playmates, etc.), and eliminations. all of this boils down to the crucial moment when brody finds "true bromance" with his "true bro."

needless to say, things just aren't going to work out between brody and me. call it "irreconcilable differences."

a little special something.

as i drove into my apartment complex after dinner and a movie with friends (i saw "push"-- entertaining but by no means the best movie ever), i decided to check my mailbox. please don't tell my mother.


i hadn't checked my mail since i got home from visiting bobby in las vegas. i regard my mailbox as the messenger of andrea's financial ruin, since its contents often include bills, bills, and coupons to meal places i end up going to because i have a coupon.

(that's bobby and me. aren't we cute? yes, yes, please send compliments. thx.)

i drove up, parked, jingled my keys to find the smallest silver mailbox opener, jammed the key into the latchhole, squealed open the metal door of doom, felt around inside for paper contents, and then my finger nudged against a foreign metal object. i squinted in the dark since the light above the mailboxes is out (again, please don't tell my mother) and withdrew key #2 to the parcel delivery boxes.

my pulse quickened, my breaths became shorter and faster, and i barely contained a squeal that finally erupted after i plopped the large brown box onto my black airmchair.

quickly, i found a knife:

bobby bought me a betsey johnson watch the last night we were in vegas, and it had finally arrived!

i love the little bureau box with leopard print. i love the star shape. i love the sparkly black face. i love the skinny patent leather band.

i love that my boyfriend likes to make me happy even if he can't be here in person. long distance schmistance. i'm smitten.