Just like that, the DC chapter of my life has officially ended. As much as I’ll miss my incredible social network and brilliant pals in the area, all I can say is good riddance. Though I’m never going to fully divorce my high strung tendencies (which push me to get so many things done in the first place!), it’s with immense relief and pride that I reveal that after my six-week move, I have finally calmed down. I no longer have to worry about canceling countless services, tying lose ends, shipping boxes up north, making dozens of tedious calls, or any of the other nonsense that comes with relocation. Earlier this week, someone made a snide comment about me hating moving, but let’s be honest: What kind of a self-loathing individual would enjoy the ordeal? New beginnings are great, but frantically removing a rotten vegetable from your fridge to avoid paying a
slob clean-up fee is not my ideal way of getting an adrenaline rush.
Though energized and in the mood to rant for several paragraphs, I will spare you all my complaints and race you to the bright and shiny end of the tunnel. A few days ago, Monique’s family stopped by the apartment to help us pack our things and clear out all the rooms. Her adorable 10-year-old sister, Katherine tagged along and anxiously cleaned the refrigerator. A few seconds into her mission, Katherine screamed.
“There’s a mold in one of your drawers!”
Upon examining the damage, I shrieked and identified the long, brown, oozing thing as a rotten cucumber, which I immediately recognized as the culprit for our pervasive kitchen stench that had been lingering in the air for months. Everything in the fridge tasted like moldy salad, even my pint of milk. If Monique and I end up being rushed to the hospital for e.coli or some sort of fungus in the coming weeks, you’ll know why.
As soon as I saw the dangerous piece of food, I ordered young Katherine to leave the area and refrain from touching anything. Monique’s intrepid mom came to the rescue and wiped the drawer spotless, but everyone had to plug their noses around the cucumber to keep from dry heaving. I was pretty disgusted that we lived in such a foul environment for so long, but couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of the cucumber. Laugh attacks help me cope with anxiety and stress, and I’ve had plenty of giggle fits since moving out of the apartment this weekend. It was about time!
Unfortunately, I didn’t laugh as much as I would have liked during yesterday’s “Twilight: Breaking Dawn” showing. The movie follows the beginning of 18-year-old Bella Swan’s marriage to vampire Edward Cullen, who impregnates her the moment they consummate their union. Edward didn’t seem to think vampires and humans could reproduce, so the news stuns everybody.
Before the baby drama takes place, Bella’s father remains skeptical of her marriage and her mom is all for it. If I pulled that on my parents right out of high school, they would have considered themselves complete failures and would probably cut off contact for a while. I don’t care what religion you abide by or how much you love someone: Don’t get hitched at 18. That’s insane.
Anyway, Bella goes down this road and becomes pregnant when she loses her virginity. Though she’s hardly a likable heroine, you can’t help but sympathize with Bella. Conception as a teenager is stressful and traumatic enough, especially if you’re carrying a vampire whose superhuman powers can destroy you. She transforms from a glowing young bride to a gaunt, pale, and sickly pregnant lady who spends all her hours on couches and lying to family members about what’s going on. Others call her fetus the “demon” who will stop at nothing to kill its mortal mother, but Bella wants to follow through with the pregnancy and turn into a vampire herself.
Towards the end of the movie, 90-pound Bella resorts to drinking blood to nourish herself and the growth inside her, and her husband gives her a C-section by biting into her stomach. When I explained this scene to my friend Andy, he grimaced and said, “And ‘Twilight’ is a popular thing??? Why would anyone want to follow such a twisted story?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I admittedly love the concept of eternal love, but “Twilight” becomes too much as the series goes on. The author’s Mormon faith unquestionably influenced the books’ theme, and I simply can’t support a saga that promotes unhealthy life choices. Even the first movie shows Edward as more of a controlling figure than a nurturing boyfriend. He’ll do anything for Bella, but they clearly don’t have a relationship of mutual respect. He wants to be her hero and rescuer all the time and she has no interest in doing anything herself. Besides, the “Breaking Dawn” delivery scene is scarier than that birth video they made me watch in seventh grade and could definitely turn people off to having kids, or at least hooking up with sexy vampires.
I spent my last night in DC with a nameless college buddy of five years (who says himself that he’s not worthy of a blog mention) at his sega party. A few friends and I joked that it felt like an awkward high school gathering, especially since a bitter dude showed up and began screaming about the “awful professor” that derailed his career and slashed his chances of becoming famous.
“If it hadn’t been for that bitch, I’d be a star artist right now,” he said.
If there’s anything I’ve learned from dealing with jerks, it’s that they’re not to blame for your own failures. A teacher picked on you in college? Build a bridge and get over it. I had plenty of instructors tell me I was worthless and silly growing up, but I’d never fault them for my issues now. Such a mentality is misguided and destructive, not to mention a cop-out. You can’t keep telling yourself that someone else stopped you from going after your dreams.
There’s more to add about my final day in DC, but I’ll leave it at this: I woke up this morning with sore abs from laughing so much last night. I am not sure when I’ll have such hilarious memories again, but will always be grateful for the friends I made and times I had in DC. My coworkers were awesome, roommates have gotten me out of a lot of trouble and bad situations, and friends incredibly loyal. I only hope I can make equally solid and meaningful connections in NYC, but at the very least, I’ll have one Hell of a career. No matter what, DC is only a 3-hour train ride away, and I can go down for the weekend any time I’m in need of a laughing session or pep talk. My goal, however, is to establish a social life here. On it!
In the mean time, I’m going to head home, watch the stupidest DVD in my collection (toss-up between “Norbit” and “Mall Cop”), and laugh the evening away. Trust me, I need it after the past few weeks.