i'm glad i was her

so, yeah, Napoleon Dynamite.

if you haven't seen it, you probably should. it's entertaining. but i'm not going to talk about the movie, really.

i was watching it for the second time and i noticed that Deb sports a hot-pink fanny pack for much of the film. she also wears her hair to the side, or pulls it half up into a ponytail that sits awkwardly high on her cranium. she uses those cheap, fuzzy elastics to hold the sweet do in place. her hair is not shiny. it is dull. it is damaged. she probably cannot afford good shampoo.

she also wears stirrup pants with cheap shoes that don't even require laces. i'm not sure where you'd even buy those anymore, but i'm sure they're out there.

so i'm watching her, taking her in, watching her move, think, react, breathe, build courage.

i was that girl. i was that girl in style, sense, and personality. well, maybe add 15 or so pounds.

should you feel bad? no. i'm glad i was her. i like to think it makes me a nicer person, having suffered and all that other cliched bullshit that is annoying to read or hear someone recount. but often, i think it makes me meaner. either is slightly irritating. i would hope i'd just evolved, not having taken that era of my life along for the ride in some twisted form of adult angst.

it's fun to think of yourself as someone completely different. it's almost like talking about your long-lost friend. or, for me, the sister you never had but are certain you'd love completely.

have you thought about changing just to create another daydream?

meh. me neither.