When I left my apartment this morning to go to the Greenway, my friendly junkie neighbor - I am making assumptions based on her dental situation, strange burns on her hands, and the way her slurred speech is an exact copy of my junkie cousin's - stuck her head out of her car and said, "You don't happen to have jumper cables, do you?" BUT I DID. Thanks, dad. I didn't know how to attach them, but she did, and fortunately a jump was all it needed, as the only other thing I could have done was what we had to do to my car a few weeks ago, which is to remove the built-up oxidation/corrosion on the battery posts that prevents it from making a strong connection. Having a string of shitty cars teaches you a lot about cars.
After the mild stalking incident a couple of years ago, I really haven't done much dating, but I usually activate an OkCupid profile for a few weeks each spring in a burst of optimism, before nuking it from orbit after awkward turtling my way through a bunch of bearded strangers. Had a first date on Wednesday with a guy I got along with quite well through text and who I had a great time talking with, but between his extreme earnestness and sending me a smiley-faced photo of himself yesterday that confirmed I never, ever want to have sex with him, I cancelled date #2 and signed up for Tinder. Have a date for drinks tomorrow afternoon, barring snow. Also considering recommitting myself to a life of celibacy, as emotions are unpleasant and I already have the cat.
Anyway, yesterday I tried to make some plans with my friends for this weekend, but they were busy doing married people stuff, like visiting mothers-in-law and helping sisters-in-law move. Last Saturday, we did an off-brand Wine and Design at Kathren's house, because she's a proper artist with an art degree, and I actually produced a credible facsimile of a barn with sunflowers. So I decided to take myself out today, including having lunch at the fancy coffee house with the delicious salad dressing and going to see Logan. When I was in college, I never thought twice about doing things like going to the movies on my own, or eating at a restaurant with a book for company, but something about the intense pressure here to be part of a group or a couple has made me extremely self-conscious about it. But I did it today, and it was lovely, and I will do it again in the future.
The book I'm struggling through is another Dan Simmons doorstopper. I read The Terror in January because I saw they're making a TV show out of it with my man Tobias Menzies in it sometime this year, and also because I have a fascination with arctic and maritime disasters. (This is an extremely specific niche interest that I occasionally trot out as an ice-breaker [ha] on dates.) The man is, it has to be said, an awful, repetitive, dry writer, but I am obsessed with his plots. I hope the one I'm reading now, The Abominable, has a resolution at least as ridiculous as The Terror.
Incidentally, if you could recommend something with a similar plot/setting but a better writer, I would be immensely grateful.
I've definitely gone off superhero movies, probably because of the supersaturation of comic book adaptations over the past several years, but I will always show up for a Wolverine movie. I'm the lowest common denominator of X-Men fans, because I don't care about the comics and all I want is to watch Hugh Jackman brutally repress feelings of anxiety, despair, self-loathing, helplessness, and rage for two hours at a time while being delightfully hairy. So, somewhat needless to say at this point, I've been looking forward to seeing Logan since I saw the trailer with Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt" sometime last winter.
I try to go into films as unspoiled as possible when it's something I'm actually excited about, so all I really knew about this was that Wolverine was in it, there was some kind of kid angle, and I'd probably see Sir Patrick as well. It was pretty devastating. My grandmother had dementia that was slowly getting worse, and the mood swings Professor X experiences, the moving back and forth in time and place, reminded me a lot of that. Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. And Xavier remembering what he'd done and telling Logan, "I finally understand you," and Logan saying, "It wasn't me, it wasn't me," as Xavier is dying was so affecting for me. I'm crying a bit right now, actually. Just thinking about the ways we try to connect, what we try to say to each other, and how eventually there are no further opportunities to say anything.