The Leanover.

 First legal drink: lemoncello sangria

So I'll tell you what I did this weekend:

I didn't buy any new clothes or music so maybe I am better understanding my budget. Maybe. I also won a pair of boots on eBay. I have yet to purchase them, so technically, I am within my means.

I didn't go out. I didn't purchase any alcoholic drinks. I didn't smoke. I didn't do drugs. I didn't roll my eyes because I was bored or fidget with my clothes because I was uncomfortable.

I caught up on my homework. I was responsile and reliable. I got things done. I made my mother proud.

I talked to a friend at dinner. We hugged because even though we live blocks away from each other, we never see each other. We gossiped and I sipped a cup of tomato vegetable soup like it was my last meal. The soup came with saltine crackers and I crumbled the two packs like 1st drafts of teenage love poetry into the chucky slop. 

Saltine crackers remind me of childhood. They remind me of being sick and watching soap operas and re-runs of trash talk at my grandmother's house.

"You can only eat Saltines!" my grandmother/mother/father quipped and so I did.

I didn't mind being sick as a child. In fact, I rather cherished it, carrying around a thermometer to ensure timeliness when it came to a potential illness. It was important to me to know the exact moment in which I surpassed a temperature of 100 degrees.

On Friday night, I crumbled the crackers. After weeks spent inside (of classrooms, of offices, of my apartment), I certainly didn't need to be reminded of my moments planted firmly on a pull-out couch. Listening to A Certain Ratio singles while scooping the contents of a carton of Haagen-Daas into my mouth, although pleasurable, is not how I intend to spend the rest of senior year.  

The pressure between the bodies is inescapable and there is a little bit of hate that after so much time, can't go unnoticed. It is something completely standard by our history and yet it festers, eagerly for our selfish benefits. When we are sober, everything is a little less wholesome and fun and delicious. When we are sober, a couple of days later, we hate each other. Or maybe, you just hate me, and I understand why, and no, I won't change for you. On a regular basis, you treat me like scum too easily.

In Oak Park, downstairs, each of us on a couch in the television room, wrapped underneath blankets and numbly staring at the television on Thanksgiving.

"There's nothing on," my sister Kourtney said while flipping through the channels.

"Try onDemand," I replied.

The benefits of onDemand are monumental. I remembered the first time I discovered the feature. It was as if a facet of my existence had finally come into being. As if, all of those times in which I so pathetically procrastinated with homework and studying had another blockage by the way of Comcast. That night, during spring break of my senior year, I watched Magic in the Water, an atrocious/brilliant family film from the nineties starring Joshua Jackson during those awkward years when he probably wondered if he would ever escape the legacy of Mighty Ducks, only ignorant to the fact that, perhaps, his once child star glory would be usurped by the likes of a boy named Dawson and his New England creek. We didn't have Oreo's in our house, but we did have those special frosted oatmeal cookies that I used to purchase with my own lack of funds and subsequently hide from my parents.

"What are you doing down there?" my mother asked that night.

"Just watching a movie," I replied.

Not just any movie. But Magic in the Water! Throughout my childhood, there were two extremes in which I wanted to live. With nature, in the woods, with a lake and room to breathe and adventure to be found or in the city, with dirty streets, and rude people and creativity brimming. This movie was that first extreme, that one I never really talked about but always reveled in during camping trips in the spring and summer.

On Thanksgiving, however, we continued our tradition of the "Guilty Pleasure Movie" routine. While scanning through the Starz "Early Premieres" section...

"Wait, go back!" I yelled.

My sister began to scroll up.

"Okay, stop!" I said.

"No," she said.

"Yes," I replied. "Oh my god, yes! We have to watch it."

"I already saw it," she said.

"Not with my running commentary," I replied.

I jumped up from the couch.

"Okay, I'm going upstairs to refill my glass of water," I said while running out of the room. "Get me one too," Kourtney yelled.

When walking back downstairs, Kourtney was up from the couch as well. "I'm stretching!" she said.

When a movie like this one comes one, you need to make sure you're in shape for when you inevitably fall off the couch in laughter or when you pause the film and re-create scenes, your own interpretation being the main factor. I took a sip of the ice water and began singing the scales (do-re-do, do-re-me-re-do, etc.) I hadn't used since my senior year of high school.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yes!"

"Play that mess!"

And if you haven't experienced the humor/glory/absurdity that is Stomp the Yard, I encourage you to do so.

Outside of my grandparent's house on the west side, the Austin neighborhood, in Chicago. For some reason, the ground was massively covered in leaves. My mother and I were in deep fascination, since the trees seemed to more or less still have lots of foliage. My sister was less concerned, and probably driven by her hunger than anything else. It always amazes me when people make assumptions about different areas of Chicago. Yes, there are many, many problems with the west side, and I can still recall when this very same block that I shot with my camera had its own share of shots in the late nineties. When I was a child though, my mother entrusted me to my grandmother, and many an afternoon was spent running down these blocks, playing tag, drawing on the sidewalk with chalk and generally making new friends. As I've grown older, the number of times that I come here has diminished. One would think that, because of the proximity, this wouldn't be the case, but ones motivation in life can make our choices seem regrettable, or at least, inexcusable. My mother said, "Brittany, why don't you go lay down in the leaves?" like when I was younger and I didn't care about things like graduate school, or complicated friendships or potential relationships. I really wanted to, but for some reason, I felt inhibited. I need to lose the inhibitions.  

After reading Tyler's post...

Movies My Sister and I Share a Mutual (Guilty) Love For

Teen Witch – Because of the rap. The rap does it and anyone that says otherwise is crazy. The rap is the one part of the film that stands out among anything else. Also, the “Most Popular Girl” sequence/song in which, even though I laughed as a girl, I still wanted it to be true.

Mannequin 2 – Because it has Kristy Swanson, from the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Also, that guy from Weekend at Bernie’s. He’s cute-ish.

Weekend at Bernie’s 2 – Not the first one. Never. Because this one has a conga line and we spent a large part of our adolescent trying to download the song off of Napster. We were unsuccessful.

North – Because even though she won’t admit it, she loved Elijah Wood just as much as I do, or at least did.

Camp Nowhere – Because of Jonathan Jackson. I once took a copy of her Teen Beat (or was it BOP, or was it 16), tore out a poster of Jonathan Jackson and slept with it. I woke up and the picture was crumpled and torn. I cried. Also, Andrew Keegan in his pre-douche days.

Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead – Because Christina Applegate is still hot shit. Because of “I’m right on top of that Rose”. Also, petty cash. That idea blew my mind. Maybe not hers, but mine, whoa man! Also, the runway at the end when her friend does that weird dance. Classic. Oh, and Kenny with the new haircut. So hot.

Dutch – Because.

Little Giants – Because of a young Devon Sawa. Also, we were tomboys in many ways. Her more than me. We could still beat all of the boys in arm wrestling, but she was far more advanced in gymnastics than myself.

Wish Upon a Star – Because of Katherine Heigl, and how it in many ways emulated our own lives. I don’t think she wanted to be me as much as I wanted to be her. Most of my crushes were in her graduating class.

Shawn of the Dead – Because it’s one of the only films in which scenes need to be rewound over and over again to continue the laughter.

The Covenant – This is the other film. Because of the phrase “wiotch”, which is a combination of “witch” and “biotch”.

Just One of the Guys – Because, honestly, it’s just a great film. No guilty feelings here.

Cry Baby – Because of Johnny Depp. Also, Ricki Lake in her prime (for acting). Also, John Waters. Well, of course John Waters.

The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking – Because it was on the Disney Channel and anything that aired on the Disney Channel between 1989 and 1999 was spectacular in ways indescribable.

Grease 2 – Because it’s bad. Because it’s good. Because there is a song about bowling. Really, that’s it.

Howard the Duck – Apparently this film is one of the worst ever. Blasphemy!

The Great Muppet Caper – This film scares me, so I don’t know why, suffice to say that I still like it for some reason. Explain.

Yesterday, while lifting abundantly heavy boxes as I moved out of my apartment...

"Wow, that is heavy! What do you have in there?" my father asked.

"Books." I replied.

"Well...stop reading so much." 

While in Oak Park...

"Your glasses..." my sister began as I walked downstairs.

"What about them?" I asked.

"I mean, it's not like you looked stupid before but..." she said.

"But what?"

"It all seems to come together..."

(I'm still trying to figure out what that means.) 

Sometimes, my father gets me better than anyone else.

Case in point: I went home last night for a friend's birthday and he gave me a Duncan yo-yo. Now, anyone that knows me from the school years of 3-6th grade will understand what this means to me. They will understand what I did after gymnastics or theatre and before homework. They will understand the amount of time I put into perfecting tricks and practicing in my basement, where my mother was least worried I would break anything.

And right now, the only thing I want to do is work on my tricks, outside, on the sidewalk, something else I used to do when younger like it's the middle of the summer and the only thing I crave is a popsicle (one must allow themselves a prime "Good Humor Truck" vantage point). That's all I want. But I suppose I'll limit my yo-yo time to an hour a day, because, homework doesn't complete itself.

(Sidenote: Peter Bjorn and John is excellent yo-yo music. So is Spank Rock. Not quite sure why.) 

Notables: "Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto" by James Brown, steppin with my mother and father, winning gin rummy after not knowing how to play, my father's peach cobbler warmed in the microwave, the complete series of "Freaks and Geeks", Hershey's Kisses, text and Facebook messages from friends close and far away, hot chocolate and the latest issue of Stop Smiling magazine, grey satin ballet flats, macaroni and cheese, watching Jennifer Holiday's original "Dreamgirls" performance on the computer,  the Top Chef marathon, The Radio Dept, hugs and kisses, family

A noted conversation...

While helping my mother prepare the ham earlier in the morning and subsequently watching the Top Chef marathon on Bravo,

"Sam is like, the perfect man," I stated.

"Really?" my mother asked while nursing a burn at the kitchen table.

"No, Sam is the perfect man," I said.

"Uh, huh," my mother uttered underneath her breath.

"He's the best chef on the show. He always wins the competitions and you can tell that he really cares about being there," I said.

"Yeah, you know, besides the whole tall, dark and handsome thing," my mother said.

"Well of course," I replied.  

Noted Pictures