"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com

 
Wild On: Spring Break

I just spent a week in sunny Florida for Spring Break and, as you may have guessed, I experienced nothing less than unbridled mayhem and debauchery. As this is a family publication, I will try to keep it clean, but I make no promises. I have my integrity as a writer to uphold.

If you think the shiny new gated communities of the Sunshine State are reserved for thrill-seeking octogenarians, think again. There is more for a fun loving law student to see and do inside those sturdy (yet somehow always open) gates than you might have guessed.

Take the constant construction going on next door. Talk about eye candy! Those fellow spring-breakers may not be conventionally attractive, but they don’t let that stop them from going shirtless. They’re out there every morning at the crack of dawn (crack being the operative word), hammering and yelling away. I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of a more pleasant way to be awakened while unwinding from the stress of law school. They were even nice enough to cheer me on with yelling and whistling as I went by on my morning run! Perhaps they wanted to hang out later and share a few of those Natty Lights.

I have a lot of really great friends, but this Spring Break I made even more! See, in brand new gated communities, it’s easy to meet new people. Every telemarketer known to man has your name, address, and criminal record on file, and they all enjoy calling to chat at their convenience. I got more calls in one day before 8 a.m. over Spring Break than I do in a week back at school. The party just never stopped!

And the weather! Those crazy kids who came up with the name “Sunshine State” have such an endearing sense of irony. I didn’t see the sun once! But really, who needs sunshine when you can have a blanket of suffocating humidity and hot, sticky rain every day? Besides, when I moved the party indoors, it just led to more Spring Break depravity. In a final moment of reckless abandon, I decided to catch up on some of my reading, and I have to say that Property Law can get pretty intense. I read one case about a dispute that arose when unmarried same-sex cohabitants decided to break up. Guys, hold on to your seats. They were lesbians! Wooohooo! Yeah, Spring Break!

posted by Bekah at 9:59 AM :: |

 
I just found out from a reliable source that number two in my top five great movies disguised as chick flicks was way off. And, while I still maintain that guys should be able to sit down and appreciate Sense and Sensibility, I am willing to make an amendment. Strike Sense and Sensibility, and replace it with Clueless, starring Alicia Silverstone and Paul Rudd. This is a guy-sanctioned change. See for yourself:

Micahbhart: the list was 5 they could see and not be upset
BekahPage: true
BekahPage: ok
Micahbhart: and im saying, no way in hell do they see that and not think crap chick flick!
BekahPage: haha
Micahbhart: not to mention boring period piece!
BekahPage: alright, you're crossing the line here!
BekahPage: it was GOOD
Micahbhart: snoooooooooooooooooooooooore
BekahPage: ok, well, 4 out of 5 ain't bad
Micahbhart: i suppose- but now i am becoming a little obsessed
Micahbhart: i have got to think of another example!
BekahPage: it's hard
BekahPage: because most chick flicks are bad
Micahbhart: so true
Micahbhart: so very, very true
BekahPage: painful even
Micahbhart: hmmmmmmmm- this cant be right, and i'm debating this as i say it- but clueless?
BekahPage: HAHAHA!
Micahbhart: i feel like i didnt hate that one
BekahPage: You like Clueless!!!
Micahbhart: but i had to have, right?
BekahPage: No, it's great!
BekahPage: It's Jane Austen!
BekahPage: It's based on Emma.
Micahbhart: i mean, i love alicia silverstone, maybe thats why i didnt think i hated it- yeah, i know
Micahbhart: but now i feel like i did hate it
BekahPage: you can't back out now
BekahPage: Clueless-lover
Micahbhart: hey, i said i wasnt sure!
BekahPage: Too late
posted by Bekah at 5:31 PM :: |

 
Isn't it painfully obvious that the students in the audience on "Inside the Actor's Studio" are just never going to be moviestars? Every show, some homely theater kid in a Cosby sweater asks an actor like Jude Law about method acting and what the secret to his on-screen earnestness is. Kids, I'm sorry to tell you that flawless bone structure and riveting blue eyes are no secret, and you're definitely not going to learn those talents from Mr. Law or anyone else. I would say that Hollywood is materialistic and often overlooks true talent, but as long as I get to see Jude Law I'm not going to raise too much of a stink about it.

In somewhat related news, here's a new top five: My top five great movies deceptively packaged as chick flicks. I enjoy the same movies as my guy friends (like such testosterone-driven classics as Snatch, Three Kings, and The Big Lebowski), so I know we have similar taste. And yet, there are some movies guys just won't see, won't admit to seeing, or won't admit to enjoying when the do. I think it's time for them to suck it up and expand their horizons. These are not saccharin Walk in the Clouds or Maid in Manhattan abominations, which I hate as much as the poor guys who get hauled to the theater every weekend. These are movies that should be given the unqualified credit they deserve from both sexes. So guys, don't be embarrassed to rent these on your own. You might even learn something.

1. Possession, starring Aaron Eckhart and Gwyneth Paltrow, based on the book by A.S. Byatt. A perfect movie about two academics and two Victorian poets. (The book is great too). This movie was my reason for even writing a top five. I promise that, despite the premise, it will not disappoint even the manliest of men.
2. Sense and Sensibility, starring Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant, based on the novel by Jane Austen. Sometimes I forget how good this movie is. So it's British--deal with it. Women love a man who appreciates the subtleties of Jane Austen. And Alan Rickman is in it, so you can pretend you thought you were renting Die Hard.
3. Much Ado About Nothing, starring Kenneth Branagh, Denzel Washington, and Emma Thompson. One of the funniest movies I've ever seen, thanks to some great acting and a pretty talented playwright. Also there's a little bit of nudity.
4. The Princess Bride, starring Carey Elwes and Robin Wright Penn. Much like little Fred Savage, many guys are uncomfortable admitting how wonderful this story/movie is. ("Is this a kissing book?"). I'm sorry, but you just don't have a soul if you don't like this one.
5. Say Anything, starring John Cusack and Ione Skye. I don't know a girl who's not in love with Lloyd Dobbler on some level. Take notes.
posted by Bekah at 12:09 PM :: |

 
The term "pig out" used to call to my mind two distinct images: the pie-eating contest in Stand by Me with the projectile vomiting, and the scene in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure when Napolean finishes the huge sundae. Salad bars, however, didn't really scream "gluttony" to me. Friends, I was blinded by ignorance. The tale of how I learned the truth isn't pretty, but it needs to be told. For the children.

I hadn't eaten much all day, and by dinnertime all I wanted was a big salad from Whole Foods. If that statement is annoying or "girly" to you, it's only because you don't understand what a Whole Foods salad means to a vegetarian. Tomatoes. Chick peas. Yams. Smoked tofu. Feta. Wheatberries. Chinese noodles. Olives. Corn. Sesame sticks. Cucumbers. Pumpkin seeds. Little fancy dried things I don't know the name of. This salad is the filet mignon of vegetarian cuisine. I'm not even sure if it has lettuce. If you still don't understand, don't be too hard on yourself. It's normal for all that meat to have an adverse effect on your brain.

By the time I got home, I was going through withdrawals. I found a fork and took the first bite. It was good. I took a few more in quick succession. And then I heard it. A sound few women dare to own up to. A sound unmentionable in civilized society. I emitted a distinct snort. It wasn't loud. You probably wouldn't have heard it if you'd been sitting next to me. But I definitely snorted. And at that moment I understood the meaning of "pig out." It was like when Helen Keller finally understood the meaning of "water" when she put her hand under the pump and Ann Sullivan spelled "w-a-t-e-r" out in sign language. Except that was an incredible triumph of the human spirit, and my experience was really more of a let down. You see, pigging out has to do with trying to breathe and put food in your mouth at the same time. Like when pigs eat from a trough and snort a lot because they're too intent on stuffing themselves to remember to breathe. I was disturbed.

Later that night, I confided to my friend Melissa how shocked and appalled I was that you could actually pig out on a salad. She said, "Oh Bekah, believe me, you can pig out on anything!" I take some comfort in that.
posted by Bekah at 8:16 AM :: |

 
I had a completely surreal dream a few weeks ago that I want to make permanent before I start to forget it or start to think I made it up. Sorry to those of you who already heard about it.

I'm at the mall with my dad and my sister. We're walking around, looking at the stores, and suddenly I look up and there is a huge deep purple sign above the door of one store that says BEKAH PAGE in big gold filigree, with a large BP shield-type insignia. I turn to them and say, "Oh wow guys, someone opened up a store with my name!" We walk over and start looking around. Apparantly, "Bekah Page" is a clothing/home supplies store exclusively for unemployed people. I speak to one of the salesladies, and she explains to me that their object is to make everything look really nice so that unemployeed people don't feel bad about themselves. My sister is happily browsing through some blazers at this point. So I turn to the saleslady and say, "My sister is unemployed, but my dad is not. Is she still allowed to shop here?" And the saleslady says, "Only in the shoe department." And then I buy a hiking backpack.
posted by Bekah at 11:28 PM :: |

 
I'm still upset about Mr. Rogers. On my drive home a few days ago I heard an NPR report about him that hilighted two of his interviews. One was from 1984, after he'd already been working in children's television for 30 years, and one was conducted just a few months ago, before he was diagnosed with stomach cancer. It was strange to hear so much backround about him and find out that he was a real person, with a wife and kids of his own. An ordained minister even. I got the weirdest feeling when the report switched over to the interview, and I heard his voice. I hadn't heard it since I was a kid, but I recognized it immediately, and lots of things about the show started coming back to me. He said he was sick in bed a lot as a child, so he made up characters and voices to entertain himself. And he said his mother used to knit him a sweater every Christmas, which is where all of the sweaters on the show came from. And the speedy delivery man, Mr. McFeely, was named after his grandfather! Not creepy at all. The cutest part of the interview was when he described a conversation he had years ago with a little boy who told him he was scared of being sucked down the drain in the bath tub. So Mr. Rogers did a whole show (and a song) about how "You could never go down the drain." He told the interviewer, "Adults might have found it silly, but I think there were kids across the country who breathed a sigh of relief." I think I was probably one of them.
posted by Bekah at 10:05 AM :: |

 
It has come to my attention that I am a judgmental person. For this I am not at all sorry. It is important to be moderately judgmental, because there is nothing more irritating or more dangerous than naivete. There is a point, however, at which a person can cross the line from judgmental to bitter, hateful, and self-involved. I don't ever want want to make that jump.

In High Fidelity (movie version), John Cusack says "It's not what you're like, it's what you like." My initial response was excitement at such an accurate and perceptive statement. Of course it's what you like! Look at my hundreds of fantastic, but only marginally "popular" cds! Look at my superior movie collection (including, of course, every Kevin Smith movie ever made)! Check out my glorious bookshelves and marvel at all of the important and highly esteemed books I've read! I like all of it!

It's true. You meet people, talk to people, and like people based on shared interests. And yet, there's something not quite right about Cusack's words, and I think it has to do with what "it" is. What exactly is "it"? It can't, for instance, be "the measure of your worth as a person." "The measure of your worth as a person is not what you're like, the measure of your worth as a person is what you like." That doesn't seem to make sense. At the end of the day, I don't think I am any better than people who appear on Dr. Phil's show or who collect Mariah Carey cds, especially if they also volunteer at the homeless shelter every Saturday and do fundraising for the Special Olympics. Or do I?

Is having good taste more important than being a good person? Most of us would probably say, "Obviously not!" and feel a little dirty for even asking. But answer me this: Why, then, do we base our decisions about who we're willing to be friends with on the former? I'm not saying you can't have good taste and be a good person, but the two are certainly not necessarily linked. I know a lot of real jerks who like what I like. The devil himself might even think Michael Stipe is a genius. Am I excluding some really wonderful people, or even my own personal growth, by defining myself so strictly by my tastes and interests? I think it's time I sat down and did a little soul searching...or maybe some volunteer work. I really do. But first, I think I might go rent Igby Goes Down. (It was critically acclaimed, but only seen by a few "artsy" types). I loved it!

posted by Bekah at 3:44 PM :: |

 
I hate it when people say that the first thing they look for in people they date is a sense of humor. And I don't only hate it because you and I both know that's not the first thing anyone looks for. I hate it because the phrase "sense of humor" is meaningless on its own. It's like saying your number one priority for prospective mates is that they have a nose. Or that they like to eat sometimes. It is so nonspecific that it's ludicrous: everyone finds at least something in life amusing. Even expanding the phrase to the all-encompassing "good sense of humor" doesn't really get you anywhere. Some people might think a good sense of humor involves appreciating the lighter side of entemology, or drawing lewd pictures in subway stations, or even killing someone in an outlandish or silly way. Those things are not very funny to me! And yet, there are people out there who are referring to such practices when they describe a good sense of humor. Now, I realize that when people say that they look for a sense of humor in a mate, they mean a sense of humor compatible with their own. I just think there should be some sort of bottom line test to set out so people can get a basic idea of where other people are coming from. Like, "If you don't think Fletch is funny, let's not waste each other's time." Or, "If you don't know what it's like to laugh at Ralph Wiggam until you pee, we're not right for each other." Or, "If you're not comfortable enough with your masculinity to read Oscar Wilde and love every wonderfully hilarious word the man wrote, it wasn't meant to be." The sad thing is, the only person I've ever met who has a sense of humor virtually identical to my own is my sister. Maybe I should start making a concerted effort to find humor in King of the Hill and Mr.Bean. That would have to open a few doors, right?
posted by Bekah at 10:15 PM :: |