The past few years I have noticed that I often find myself traipsing through various phases within a given span of time, eventually growing weary of said phase(s) and thus moving on to another. Many of these aforementioned phases are cyclical, and I find myself reverting to various forms of them on a semi-routinely basis. There is the cereal for breakfast phase, often replaced by the two eggs over-easy on top of toast phase, eventually replaced by the I don’t feel like making breakfast at all but I really like bananas phase.
There is the obsessive-compulsive cleaner of the personal space phase, which is most often quickly replaced by the I give up and what’s wrong with chaos of the personal space? phase. There are the early to bed and early to rise, and stay up late and sleep in phases.
There are concert ticket-purchasing and saving all of my money phases. Growing my hair long and highlighting it blonde and cutting it short and dying it dark phases.
I get down with phases like Madonna gets down with image changes.
This week I’ve been enjoying an unexpected movie-renting, watching and promptly returning phase. The past four nights in a row I have visited my local video store, perused the shelves, and walked out with multiple movies in hand. I then have watched those movies, returned them the next day, and so repeated the movie selection process. While most of the movies I’ve rented have indeed proven to be enjoyable cinematic endeavors, it remains a well known fact that in every batch of perfect cookies there must be at least one misshapen mess. Unfortunately for me, misshapen messes found in the movie realm aren’t nearly as gooey and tasty as those in the baking realm.
Enter misshapen, not so tasty mess otherwise known as: Into the Blue, starring Paul Walker and Jessica Alba.
OK. So what did I really expect renting a movie boasting this cover?
Once upon a time I did want to be a marine biologist, and ever since I can remember have been drawn to movies that spend any or most of their filming time underwater.
Yeah, I know. I’m just making excuses now. Here, how about some more gratuitous Paul Walker abs:

In two hours’ time I learned many a thing, including that in the future I would be far happier sticking to The Discovery Channel whenever I find myself craving under-the-sea cinema of any sort.
What else did I learn while foraging “into the blue,” you wonder?
1. Paul Walker as Jared the wannabe full-time treasure hunter employs as much acting talent as a stapler. While unable to legitimately portray any other look beyond the “I’m Ripped And I Mean That In All Senses Of The Word” look, he also seemingly possesses an innate ability to deliver his lines with such lack of gusto so as to (almost) evoke audience sympathy for him, The (Really Rich But Pretending To Be) Poor Surfer Dude Who Just Learned To Speak English Yesterday.
2. Deep sea diving in a barely-there bikini is the new black. And completely realistic and functional, too.
3. As realistic as say, finding a plane full of cocaine at the bottom of the ocean and promising your (really rich but pretending to be poor surfer dude) self that you will not touch said plane and said cocaine, until that is, a British-accented drug lord threatens to shoot you aboard a fancy yacht while he eats reheated broccoli from Tupperware unless you dive (in your barely-there swim trunks) back down to the bottom of the ocean and retrieve his drugs which have been completely saturated in salt water for weeks, but no one really seems to mind that fact, because to care about such minute details would be downright silly.
4. The writers and producers thought Jessica Alba might actually have the ability to deliver a line with feeling in her voice, thereby ruining the lack of plot and dialogue otherwise working well throughout the movie, and so, to be sure such a travesty did not occur, they cut her lines and added a few more bikini-clad make out, I love water and my surfer-bum boyfriend scenes. My favorite was the one where Paul Walker lovingly grabs her behind while they are twenty feet underwater, swimming amidst sharks and buried treasure.
5. Being upset your girlfriend was just eaten by a hungry tiger shark isn’t really going to happen if you a) are Scott Caan; b) are too busy hiding a bunch of cocaine from drug lords who want to kill you; c) remember your girlfriend was just some floozy you picked up on your flight to the Bahamas and anyway, she was sort of annoying ; d) ALL OF THE ABOVE.
6. Living in the Bahamas. It’s just so…dramatic. And well, blue.
It was here, while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although, of course, at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun, perhaps long ago near the sound of water. And I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode so there would be a sharp turn, deep circles, a deposit, and quietness.
-from A River Runs Through It → Read more...
I posted a picture of him for a silly Instagram-related game and found him waiting for me in my dreams, something which occurs so rarely it still explodes solidly-constructed dams inside me each time I see his face, mustached and smiling at mine just the way he always did, just the way I always remember him. As usual he didn’t say much, not anything I could hear or remember, but he was there and I knew it, and when I → Read more...
I have words washed out to sea. Words ushered quietly from my lips to my fingertips, waiting patiently for the right tide, for the moon to bring my stories alive.
I have words being reviewed, words accepted and words rejected, and I’m clinging to my favorite lines, fighting for them, and it feels strange and new and exhilaratingly infuriating, this tug-of-war of wills and how the slightest bit of caving can make me feel like I’m flirting with abandoning the sanctity → Read more...
[Alternately titled: Story, The Second: The Girl Who Moved To Washington State]
It began simply. A direct message on Twitter first, followed by texts; those texts, in turn, begat plans. With those plans came anxiety and apprehension – I didn’t know you, not your face or your voice or anything else, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to – but also something exciting, a strange and unexpected hope hovering quietly on the horizon. And then we met, conversed and laughed → Read more...