The Rules of Being a Person: When a Trip to the Movie Theater Showcases an Utter Lack of Humanity

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The Rules of Being a Person: When a Trip to the Movie Theater Showcases an Utter Lack of Humanity

“Remember last time we were at the movies and we got kicked out for talking?”

This is not something you want to hear 12 seconds before a movie starts. But I do hear it from the girl sitting a few rows above us at Landmark Theaters. All I can think is, this does not bode well. I turn around and see four teens, two girls with long, straight brown hair and two boys who I can’t really make out, sharing videos on their phones, talking as if the lights hadn’t dimmed. I can feel my body clenching, my heart rate increasing. My husband and I have wanted to see The Revenant for weeks and we’re finally here. Being off from school for President’s Day has given us a break in our schedules. And now, these four little fuckers are going to destroy it. I think, they’ll have to stop once the movie starts, right?

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Three-Way Mirrors: The Ultimate Reality Check

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Three-Way Mirrors: The Ultimate Reality Check

It started in the Nordstrom dressing room. After shaving off a few pounds, I decided it might be time to try on some jeans. Actually, it was a promise I made to myself. “Hali, you cannot buy new jeans until you lose weight.” So, I thought I was in good shape…literally and figuratively. And as I pulled down my lose fitting skirt (adding to the reality that I was in fact skinnier) and grabbed the faded blues, that’s when I saw it…or them. The backs of my thighs. You see, Nordstrom has these three way mirrors. I used to like three way mirrors. Actually, I used to not even think twice about three way mirrors. They’ve now turned into my biggest nightmare.

“Oh my god.” I said out loud to myself. A mother and daughter were in the dressing room next to me but I didn’t care. I couldn’t breathe, honing in on the ripples that had taken over my thighs and larger than I had expected white ass. I stared at them for another two minutes in disbelief. “How? When? Why? How?” All that was left was “Who?” but I knew who. “Who” was me! How the hell was this “who” me? And more importantly, was there a way I could instantly disappear through the lightly carpeted gray floor of the dressing room?

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The Big Push of 2015: Hali's Summer Vacation

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The Big Push of 2015: Hali's Summer Vacation

As grateful and lucky as I feel to have two and a half months off from school, I’m also scared shitless.

For someone like me, unstructured time=laziness=depression=weight gain=self-hatred=massive hibernation.

How’s that for uplifting?

While many of my colleagues are soaring to exciting locations and experiences, I am almost dreading the idea of being on my own, without structure. You see, I don’t trust myself. I’ve let myself down time and time again. I can stare at my Tracy Anderson Dance Cardio DVD and it’s gray coating of dust and tell myself that “once summer comes, I’m cracking that thing open.” I can gaze longingly outside the bedroom window at the blossoming jasmine and promise myself that I’ll spend time in the garden come June. I can shove questionable clothing into drawers that are already overflowing and say to myself, “self, get ready to do some summer cleaning!”  But deep inside, I have that familiar nagging feeling that I just won’t get myself to do anything. And I still can’t seem to answer the same question I’ve been asking myself since I was 8 years old. What came first? The laziness or the fear?

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Hello 43: When Denial No Longer Works

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Hello 43: When Denial No Longer Works

“What? No fucking way!” This was me talking to my car radio.
“That’s right. Today marks the 30th anniversary of the release date of the album Purple Rain.”

I almost crashed into the person in front of me.

“No it’s not!” I yelled at the DJ.
“I know, it’s hard to believe, right?” He continued.
“Uh, yeah! What are you talking about, dude? 30 years??? There’s no way!”

I began chuckling under my breath. 30 years. Right.  But then I began flashing back on my life…in quick little snippets like when Bruce Willis puts it all together at the end of “Sixth Sense.” And I’m back at Arts Unlimited, the summer program at Chadwick School in Palos Verdes. I’m learning a jazz routine to “When Doves Cry.” And I’m…13! Holy shit.  He’s right. It was 30 years ago.

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