Or at least was skinny like her. I can't believe Kristen Stewart, aka Bella from Twilight, is going to play Joan Jett in The Runaways. Ick.
I've noticed my posts on this blog are getting less and less creative. Just look at all the posts from 2007. Granted, I didn't write nearly as often, but every post back then was either a poem, a vignette, or some really deep blurb.
Now compare with my last couple of posts. I talk about movies and arrests and a bunch of other hooplah.
This is very disheartening. Excuse me, I think I'm going to go into a corner and cry.
I removed the names to protect her privacy, but I think most of you know who this is. Other than that, I don't know what's happening, but this at least confirms the rumors.
Though she isn't the sharpest crayon in the box, she has a good heart. It's sad.
Awhile ago, I wrote a post I never published titled "Senior Year Bucket List". It was comprised of several lists, one of which was titled "10 Movies to Watch". It included:
Garden State
Jeux d'enfants
Paris, Je t'aime
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Penelope
The Godfather II
Rent
Slumdog Millionaire
Juno
La Vie en Rose
As it turns out, I've been able to knock off two movies from the list since Friday.
Despite its flaws (such as when Penelope, who is supposed to be good at French, said "Quelle heure a-t-il?" instead of "Quelle heure est-il?"), I liked Penelope. I have a soft spot for fairytales that feature a heroine who has her own mind. I liked "The Prince and the Goose Girl" by Eleanor Mordaunt and was fairly disappointed when I realized the original book she wrote is out of print. Turns out the nearest copy is at Northwestern University.
But I digress. The idea of Penelope was appealing -- a girl with a physical deformity that has forced her parents to shut her away from society. Christina Ricci, James McAvoy, and Reese Witherspoon all played likeable roles. What I didn't really like were parts of the storyline. At the end, Penelope's mother unintentionally makes a very hurtful comment, and soon after, Penelope leaves the Wilhern mansion for good. Personally, I didn't see why it was necessary to leave the relationship between mother and daughter broken. Yeah, there were times when I wanted to hurl something at the mother. But I didn't think breaking things off between them was entirely necessary.
Anyways. I'm in one of those depressive moods again. I have so many things to do and yet I don't want to do anything. This is a terrible mood to be in when I have a five-page essay on Kafka due tomorrow.
1. In celebration of our pristine, uncorrupted social lives (ie. "party" = playing guitar hero or charades with absolutely no illegal substances or racy escapades), mes amis et moi went out to eat at Aldo's. Seeing how more than half of us almost never go to school dances, we marked yet another school dance (Winter Ball) with a nice outing completely unrelated to school.
2. It was probably a bad idea to wear my plaid stockings with khaki shorts yesterday, because I started feeling very sick sometime around six o'clock. I felt even more sick when Gov. J took off her coat to reveal a tank top. In January! This woman must have ice running in her veins...
3. The gnocchi I ordered was as yummy as I imagined. The only problem was I couldn't stop wondering how much butter and cream I was clogging my arteries with. I ended up eating only 3/4 of the plate and boxed up the rest. Interestingly enough, everyone who ordered pasta either could not finish or felt completely bloated by the end. S and G, both of whom ordered some kind of meat, were still open to the prospect of dessert.
4. One more movie to cross off of my list. Garden State reminded me of Amelie -- a little random but kind of cute, with some deeper philosophy beneath the surface. It even reminded me of Camus' The Stranger at the beginning. Probably not my favorite movie of all time, but it was pretty good.
My favorite scene, hands down:
I liked this scene too:
5. Unfortunately, I had a humongous headache by the end of the movie. I ended up leaving G's house with Gov. J before midnight.
You are the song I cannot remember. Strings of lyrics and solitary words drift into mind, but the music -- and what's left of You -- keeps slipping away from me again.
So it's been more than a week since I last wrote on here. Eight days to be precise. Yes, I finally stuck my nose to the grindstone, or whatever the silly saying is, and updated EP. Personally, it was a rather boring chapter in my opinion, but at least it's taken care of.
So what else have I done in my absence? Other than realize just how addicted I am to blogging, I have discovered many wonders in this world. Allow me to present...
Sophelia's Weekly Five, Edition I (I think this might become a weekly thing from now on. But we shall see.)
1. Are some people doomed to never get the girl/guy? Yeah yeah, I know people like to believe that there's a soulmate out there for everybody. But the cynical side of me has the feeling that there's always going to be somebody who for whatever reason keeps watching them get away. Is it because they have a horrible personality? Or because they just look like one? Why did I suddenly start thinking about this? Well, I watched The Notebook for the first time last Saturday night. It's not a bad movie, I'll at least give it that. But guess who I saw?
Why, it's Lon Hammond Jr! The poor dashing Southern aristocrat who gets dumped for a farm boy! But wait a second... doesn't he look a little familiar?
Richard White of Superman Returns
Prince Edward of Enchanted
Hold on a second. How come in every movie I've seen with James Marsden in it, HE NEVER GETS THE GIRL? He's not ugly. It's not like a girl would wake up one morning and scream at the sight of his face. Granted, I haven't watched very many movies, but don't you think three movies is kinda telling? In the first place, the only reason Lon probably lost out to Noah was a case of bad timing. Hey, if Noah's picture had never made the newspaper, who knows what would have happened?
Oh, and don't bother trying to argue that Richard White gets the girl (aka Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane) in Superman Returns. Richard White's story is even more sad than Lon Hammond's. Think about. You're engaged to a girl who's still in love with a freaking alien! And not just any tentacled slimy thing. This is Superman, the guy whose hair remains curled even after he nearly drowns in the ocean! And just how the heck are you supposed live up to the expectations of your alien-human-hybrid stepson?
Anyways. If it weren't for the fact that James Marsden is in real life happily married with two children, he probably would have achieved idol status among the rest of us who spend Valentine's drowning out the sorrows of a single lifestyle with a pint of Ben & Jerry's and television reruns. 2. What's the appropriate age difference for sharing a kiss? As you'll probably discover, I've spent a lot of my time recently catching up on movies. So what's the next film in line? NO. IT CAN'T BE!!
Yes, I admit. I watched Another Cinderella Story last night on ABC Family. About two hours of cheesy goodness. Forget about Cheez-its. This is "The Big Cheese." Now, I don't know if you have heard (because it didn't even occur to me until I started reading comments on Youtube videos), but apparently there have been people protesting the age difference between Selena Gomez and Drew Seeley. Because supposedly, Selena Gomez is sixteen and Drew Seeley is twenty-six.
Wait a second. What the hell is the problem? Does Drew Seeley even look any older than twenty-five to you? This guy filled in for Zac Efron in all those High School Musical live performances... and Efron's what, twenty-one? If Seeley is believable as a high school champion basketball player (cue long loud laugh), wouldn't he be ten times more believable as a young showbiz star who can sing and dance?
Oh, I see. People are getting all squeamish because Gomez and Seeley share a kiss at the end of the movie. You can hardly even call it a kiss, since the camera immediately pans over to another side of the stage the instant their lips connect.
So what's the appropriate age difference for kissing? The way I see it, age doesn't matter until I start wincing and have to fight the urge to burrow my head into a pillow. I mean really, why are people making a commotion about a ten year age difference that probably looks only half that amount? What about the lip lock between Ben Kingsley (then aged 63) and Mary-Kate Olsen (then aged 21) in The Wackness? Or how about Sienna Miller (then aged 26) and Steve Buscemi (then aged 50, but looked at least 60) in Interview? Pick your battles, people.
Well, maybe I'm so unbothered by the pairing of Selena and Drew because I loved this scene:
3. Is this what it feels like if you're sitting in a movie theater and suddenly realize that somebody made a movie about your life... and they don't even know you? So once upon a time, there was a girl named Sophelia. Long story short, she wrote a blog with the half-hearted hope of having the right person stumbling upon her posts. Well, just a week ago she shut the book cover to that story and effectively ended all hope of having her half-hearted dream come true.
Coincidentally, she decided to look at J'nette's blogroll, and guess what she found? A blog titled I Wrote This For You with a title description below stating, "I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads this, doesn't get it. They may think they get it, but they don't. This is the sign you've been looking for. You were meant to read these words."
First she stared. Then she reread again just to make sure she hadn't been hallucinating. Then she read the posts. Reading them made her feel a little happy and sad at the same time -- happy because each post was so succinctly beautiful, sad because she felt completely inferior to the genius author who had basically described her Internet life with 567 posts. Seriously, go check it out. It is amazing.
4. Episode 1 of Dr. Subconscience So as I have mentioned before, G bought me an illustrated dream dictionary for Christmas, probably so I would stop harrassing her with all my crazy accounts of my morbid subconscious storytelling. Well, as an experiment, today I will divulge the latest morbid installment from Sophelia's subconscience and then analyze it with my handy dandy dictionary. It's showtime! Dr. Subconscience: Allo everyun! Velcome to my show! So, Sopheliah, tell me. Vat new un crazy dream do you have for me today? Sophelia: I can only remember parts of it, but I remember I was hiding in a small cramped shack in the shady part of some downtown area. A group of us were trying to escape from some evil group -- I don't even remember why we were running away from them, but all I know is that they were the bad guys. I was hiding under a wooden bench with another guy dressed up in a strange orange Big Bird costume, when two of the bad guys came in and caught us hiding under the bench. They forced us out and one of them had to hold Big Bird down. The other had to report to their headquarters about the catch, but that meant he could no longer hold me down.
So as as soon as I had the opportunity, I bolted out of the shack and into another building not too far from the shack. I knew instinctively that somebody was chasing me, but I didn't dare look back. I darted into random doors everywhere, somehow managing to make it to the top floor. There, strangely enough, was a gift shop with a view of the city, selling regular tourist junk and some stuffed animals. The clerk, who was apparently on our side, told me I would be safe here for awhile. Eventually, G, Gov. J, C, S, J, and Rogue somehow managed to meet up with me at the gift shop, and they quickly informed me that a team of the bad guys were getting very close to our location. The clerk pointed at a hallway near the gift shop and told us we should be fine if we hide in the very last room down the hall.
So my friends and I hid inside what turned out to be an extremely messy bedroom. I guess we thought we were safe because whenever we played hide-and-seek when we were young, the parents' bedrooms were always off-limits. Anyways, so we could barely find a place to hide when the door busted open and a team of twelve-year-old boys leapt into the room and started yelling out threats while waving their tiny guns around. Alas, they were too stupid to simply lift off the bedsheet and find all seven of us hiding underneath, so as soon as we heard their feral cries echoing down the hall, we snuck out of the room and darted to the next room, which turned out to be a giant aquatics center. Only it felt more like an empty aquarium than an aquatics center. We leapt into the drained water polo pool, which literally was just a gigantic empty aquarium. Thinking nobody was going to find us there, we sat inside and tried coming up with escape plans.
But for some strange reason, our location had been discovered again, and we heard the thundering noises of the bad guys as they stampeded up the stairs to the highest floor of our building. Thinking fast, we built a human pyramid so that I could reach the window right above us. I pulled down the window but soon realized that none of us would be able to fit through the frame. So instead, I forced the window to open upwards and then ripped apart the window screen with my hands and teeth. Yeah, it hurt my teeth. For some reason, the water polo players had left some towels and pieces of cloth in the "pool", so my friends and I each grabbed a cloth and leapt out of the building as if we were using parachutes. For some strange reason, we were still be able to drift downwards like dandelion seeds despite the fact that gliding down with such dinky pieces of cloth would have been aerodynamically impossible.
And I don't remember very much after that, only that thanks to our stunning escape from the water polo pool, we were able to avoid the bad guys and continue running away.
Dr. Subconscience: Vell, Sopheliah. Good news: a comfortable old age is forecast for you if you are chased in a dream. The fact that your dream took place in a big city shows you have big ideals. The old dilapidated building -- the shack -- is a sign to start saving for the rainy days ahead, and the color orange you saw at the beginning of your dream is an omen of unusually great success. The strange bedroom is a sign of a change for the better. The toothache you developed after ripping apart the screen with your teeth suggests that you are not happy about a certain situation. Freefalling with the parachute, since it vas used successfully in your dream, is a sign that your love life will run smoothly. Seeing others falling is also a sign that you can count on promotion at work. Oh, and those boys you saw chasing you with guns? It's a sure sign that you're not really in love with your partner.
Sophelia: ... But this is all so vague. All you've told me is that I'm not happy with my current situation, and good times are coming soon, but I have to make sure to save for a rainy day? And how is my love life supposed to be running smoothly if I'm not really in love with my non-existent partner to begin with?
Dr. Subconscience: Ah, only the future can tell. Go to sleep and come visit me again tomorrow.
5. Anyone else have the urge to watch the "classic" Star Wars episodes (IV, V, VI)? I happened to watch Episode IV and half of Episode V on the television last week. I was probably way too young the last time I watched them, because I felt as if I had never watched the films before in my life. Personally, Han Solo beats Luke Skywalker any day in my book. Harrison Ford was fiiiinne back in the day. I'm not surprised Harrison Ford become a superstar and now hardly anybody knows who Mark Hamill is.
Seriously. If he didn't end up with Leia at the end of the trilogy, I probably would have destroyed something.
And as a parting note, I have included two last Youtube clips of the lovely Leia and Han pairing. Haha they crack me up.
And that's all for Sophelia's Weekly Five, Edition I!
I think it was Friday when G mentioned her prophetic dream. She asked if I had ever had a prophetic dream. I said I didn't think so, considering how ridiculous my dreams tend to be. Other than being rejected at Stanford -- and even that one was filled with surreal incidents that never occurred -- I don't think anything I've ever dreamt became a reality. Rather, my dreams are prophetic in the way that they will never happen.
When I woke up Friday morning, I felt good. I couldn't remember what happened in the first dream; I could only remember who was in it, but I knew something good had happened. The second was one of those recurring dreams I have fairly often -- any dream analyst would say it's some unfinished business I've never taken care of, but I already know that I will probably never take care of it in the end.
As it turns out, I had an epiphany that day. Contrary to whatever the dream may have predicted, it was not a pleasant awakening. It wasn't even as if something outrageous had happened. It's something that has happened over a hundred times, but for some reason it meant more that day than it ever did before.
I have spent some time thinking, and I have decided I am going to take a break from writing on this blog. There are many reasons that have led me to this decision. The first is a practical reason -- even now, I still receive reviews for EP asking when I am going to update. Recently, I read Stephen King's On Writing and realized that all I am really doing is burying my head in the sand because I don't want to face the numerous problems with EP. But after reading the last review I received (from Essie), it occurred to me that there are others who are still in love with it even though I have nearly left it for dead. Somehow, I feel as if I cannot let those people down. Until I update EP, I will not update this blog.
The other reason it entirely selfish. Hello Mr. Salt. This is Open Wound. Have you two met before?
Damn it, I want the godforsaken wound to heal. I don't want to prod and poke anymore. I have overanalyzed everything to death. What I realized on Friday opened my eyes. Look, you silly thing. You overanalyze ever single mindless gesture into something enormous. And in the end, none of it ever meant anything. You've been rubbing salt into your wound for the last two years, maybe because you were hoping something beautiful arises from the pain. Alright, maybe it does. But I don't want to do this anymore.
I have a white-out pen. I don't even remember how long ago I found it, but I would guess it's been at least four years since. Instead of a boring label that says "Wite-Out" or something along those lines, it has a manhwa drawing of a girl and a guy. The girl is smiling, while the guy has his arms around her waist with a protective look on his face. I didn't recognize the drawing style -- I figured it was just some graphic artist's work, and so I drew two red fangs on the guy's face to pair along with his coldly suave eyes.
Today I figured out where the drawing comes from. Mystery solved.
I wouldn't call it an addiction, but I have a certain thing for reading manga and manhwa. There's a negative stereotype associated with that sort of hobby -- think crazy cosplaying otaku who calls himself some fancy Japanese name. I don't know. I have no intention of cosplaying or calling myself Makino Tsukushi or whatever. Sure, Rogue and I probably have an unhealthy habit of admiring drawings of certain characters, but hey. I'm not like the guy who petitioned to marry an anime character, which I think is just plain weird.
I just like reading stories. Period. Reading the novels sitting on my shelf takes a fair amount of time unless I get hooked instantly and can't put the book down. I don't read very much fictionpress stuff anymore because I am constantly annoyed by much of the poorly written unoriginal stories. I read manga/manhwa because if I'm already caught up with the story, whenever a new chapter comes out, it takes me about five minutes to read and then I'm back to work. It's like taking daily vitamins.
I haven't been writing EP much for probably one main reason other than time. There is something else I want to write, and I feel like if I don't capture it now, I will lose it soon. Chick lit is fun to read and write, but sometimes it feels trashy and superficial and fluffy. I have read more than my fair share, and I now tend to avoid anything about sparkling vampires, bitchy head cheerleader ex-girlfriends, childhood-best-friend-turned-hot-jock, etc. Or maybe not. I don't know. I want unpredictability, and if I can spot the plotline from a mile away, chances are I'll quit. And I am rather hypocritical as well, because back when I was a sophomore and started EP, I used just as egregious plot devices. So basically, today I figured out the drawing was from Goong. Yes, it's very chick lit, but it was entertaining. Now I feel a little bad about drawing the fangs, because even though the guy looked pretty evil on my pen, he was someone I rooted for in the series. It happens to be a drama too, but I have no intention of watching it. I want to say I prefer most Asian dramas over American ones, but I really can't say because I don't watch much television. But I'd have to say I prefer something like HYD over Gossip Girl. Granted, I haven't really watced GG much. I happened to watch the episode with Bart Bass' funeral, and I have to say some of the lines were just downright hilarious -- unintentionally.
I mean, come on. Can you keep a straight face with this scene? I just know someone out there probably wants to attack me for saying so, but I always crack up when I watch this.
If I sound like I am extolling the virtues of manga and manhwa, don't get me wrong. There are some that make me want to vomit at the corniness. I am a very cynical person, so I tend to be rather dubious of happy endings. I hate stories where the two leads have no good reason not to be together, other than the fact that the author decides to throw in a bunch of love triangles and miscommunication for the sake of conflict and drama. Pisses me off.
No, there has to be a damn good reason, so that I feel any ounce of sympathy. In the case of Goong, the two leads face a tough decision and ultimately sacrifice their happiness for the sake of the royalty. There. Now I actually feel for the characters. Not like in Tokyo Juliet, where the show seemed to introduce a random third-wheel every episode for the sake of stirring some trouble.
Anyways. This was a strange pointless rant. As usual.
I should have written one of those "Looking back at 2008" or "Looking ahead at 2009" posts at least two days ago. But unfortunately, now that college apps are done, I don't plan on being very reflective for at least a month. Sure, maybe 2008 stunk for some people, with the economic woes and whatnot. But I think I got to know my friends a lot better in 2008 than before.
The dinner party at Rouge's house was fairly interesting. Especially that 20/20 program on ABC. That was probably the most bizarre program I have ever seen. Apparently the theme that evening was childbirth and parenting, and basically they packed the weirdest things you've never cared to know about childbirth/parenting into one hour of television.
Want to know what was on the program? First, they talked about how childbirth isn't earthshattering painful for everybody, because apparently some women learn how to orgasm during the process. ("It's basically the same; you have something coming out one way, and in the other situation, you have something coming in the other way!") Then, they featured these childrenless women who spend around 1400 dollars on a baby doll, which they care for like a normal baby by changing its unsoiled diapers every few hours, taking it out for walks in public, and buying baby clothes for it.
Which I fail to understand, because 1) The woman they featured said she tossed out the idea of adopting because it cost too much money -- and then you look behind her and you see five of those freakish dolls behind her, 2) This unfortunately reminds me of G, who said that babies are cute until they turn about 2 years old and start acting really annoying... so do these women buy these dolls so that they never have to deal with barf, whining, pee, poo, and the other little joys of motherhood?, and 3) MY GOD THEY'RE BAKING THE DOLL!!!!
Then they moved on to women who were still breastfeeding children who had already grown teeth -- like one woman who was still breastfeeding her eight-year-old son. Then they focused on surrogate mothers -- one woman is paid to go through the pregnancy and such. This one I didn't find as strange, because I've already heard about this happening before. And I think there was some other section, but I don't really remember because by then my eyes were dead tired.
Anyways. Disturbing as it was, that program was really fun to make fun of.
Personally, I can't even contemplate the idea of having a kid at this age. If you think about it, if I had been born a couple centuries earlier, I'd probably already be wed off and already raising children by now. And that I can't even imagine.
Then I think about Bristol Palin, who just gave birth to a son. I'm not going to get into anything political or potentially nasty, but whenever I hear about her, all I can think is that she's practically the same age as me. Obviously she didn't plan to be pregnant, but that doesn't matter -- what matters is if she's ready to be a mother. If she's anything like most of the girls at my school, me included, she's going to have to grow up fast.
INT. ROSECRANS HIGH SCHOOL, VACANT CLASSROOM - DAY
Lights flicker on, revealing two students sitting face-to-face at a table. Lighting is dim, illuminating only the two figures in the room, ALEXIS and ISABELLE. ALEXIS hovers her hand over the tape recorder.
ALEXIS This interview will be recorded. Do you have any objections?
ISABELLE None.
ALEXIS presses the button down with a CLICK and the tape begins to roll.
ALEXIS January 1st. Interview with Isabelle Hart for the Rosecrans Reporter, reporting done by Alexis Kelly. So Isabelle, it is no exaggeration to say that the entire population at Rosecrans High School is aware of your rising career as a model. How did you first get your big break into this business?
ISABELLE (impatiently) Why are you asking, Lexi? It's not as if you don't already know the story.
ALEXIS (coldly) Don't call me Lexi, Isabelle. We are strangers now.
ISABELLE Fine. (leans back and crosses her legs) I got my first deal when I was a freshman. My neighbor, who owns a clothing boutique in downtown Eden, offered me a part in her television commercial, and I accepted. And after the commercial began airing, I started receiving calls from agencies in the entertainment business. One thing led to another, and that's how I got this far.
ALEXIS Ah, of course. No mention of how you seduced your way out of this valley and into the international arena.
ISABELLE (sits up in rage) What the fuck are you talking about?
ALEXIS Oh, stop pretending that people don't already know. Let's just say you performed some favors for the right people, and they paved you a yellow-brick road to the wizards who could bring you fame.
ISABELLE How dare you-
ALEXIS So tell me, how was it? What's it like to fuck with money? How did it feel, Izzy, when you fucked the guy who used to bully the shit out of us? That spoiled jerk who flaunts his wealth like a peacock? Did he make you scream, cry out like the way he used to when we were young?
Speechless, ISABELLE glares, fuming. ALEXIS laughs dryly at her silence.
ALEXIS (cont'd) Really, I'm curious. What did he do? Cuddle, whisper sweet nothings in your ear after the deed was done? Or immediately hop out of bed and offer you your contract with the biggest modeling agency in Eden?
ISABELLE Fuck you.
ALEXIS He fucked you, not me. Did you even love him?
ISABELLE You could have picked any of your staff writers to do this job. Why are you the one interviewing me?
ALEXIS Oh, trust me. I wasn't skipping like Dorothy into this room. But we have unfinished business to settle, don't we?
ISABELLE I was told I would be interviewed. Not interrogated by a nosy former friend!
ALEXIS "Nosy former friend"? Is that what I am now?
ISABELLE Shut up, Alexis. The sooner we get this over with, the better.
ALEXIS Alright. As you request, Miss Hart.
ALEXIS pauses thoughtfully for a moment, as if in deep thought. Both girls avoid making eye contact.
ALEXIS (cont'd) You were the subject of much speculation last week when you were absent from school for more than a week last month. Care to shed light on the events of that week?
ISABELLE bites her lip nervously before speaking. ALEXIS notices her behavior.
ISABELLE There was a photo shoot in New York for a fashion magazine. The director of the shoot asked for me to arrive as soon as possible. I requested a week's leave with the school administration.
ALEXIS Don't lie to me. You've always sucked at telling lies. You weren't in New York. Those girls you call your friends would have known, and they had no idea where you were.
For what seems like hours, neither girl speaks. ALEXIS appears to be in deep thought before she suddenly speaks.
ALEXIS (cont'd) (quietly) You're pregnant.
ISABELLE (in a mixture of confusion and shock) What?
ALEXIS No, not the one you're thinking. Again.
ISABELLE (suspiciously but with a hint of panic) What are you talking about?
ALEXIS (leans back and sighs) Now I get it. There was something you had to take care of that week, wasn't there? Something that would ruin your career if you let it stay. But that's not what I'm talking about. You were out partying again last night, weren't you?
ISABELLE How do you-
ALEXIS Izzy, Izzy Izzy. Despite all those years since the last time we talked, I didn't think you would forget about my gift so quickly. (pauses) I had a dream last night. There was a little girl crying out to me. She kept tugging at my shirt, asking to be picked up. And when I did, she cried, saying how her mommy is going to have another kid again, asking why she wasn't good enough for Mommy. And you know what? That girl looked exactly like you did the day we first met.
ISABELLE Those.. those are just dreams. They don't mean anything!
I wish I was Joan Jett.
