Yup, more "Twilight".
Feb. 12th, 2009 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionConsider the icon a gift. When you're about to gouge out your eyes, just stare at the glorious, glorious sight of Michael Cutter and his Tight White Shirt.
The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.
"Uneasy"? "Tense"? Paging the Department of Redundancy Department. Yo! Meyer! RULE FIVE
To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week.
WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. You know what? Let's add this to the drinking game. DRINK!
Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow.
Do you have your notepads, ladies? Take note: If a boy PAYS ATTENTION TO YOU he is a LOSER and NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. Also, just so we're clear, this guy? Is trying to apologize for nearly RUNNING HER DOWN. Tyler, honey, stop. Apologize to US for missing her.
He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.
Because a boy wanting to BE NICE and show you RESPECT is a LOSER. Who wants a guy who wants to treat you like a PERSON when you can have a guy who treats you like a TOY?
Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen [Edward] there till the van was pulled away.
Hey, Meyer? Bit of grammar knowledge for you:
"Till" is an antiquated version of the word "until". Using "till" instead of "until" does not make your book sound artsy or interesting. It makes your book sound idiotic. Not that it needs much help in that department.
With chagrin, I realized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.
WORLD'S SPECIALIST--MOST LIKELY TO STALK--SNOWFLAKE. DRINK.
Jesus Christ, did Meyer ever read this and go, "Huh, maybe I'm making Bella out to be a crazy, bitchy, self-obsessed, stalker. Will that send a bad message to women?" OF COURSE NOT, MEYER. Bella's a goddamned SNOWFLAKE. Everyone WANTS to be a GODDAMNED SNOWFLAKE.
Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual.
Which implies, of course, that Bella was CONTASTLY surrounded by curious bystanders. SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK. And, Bella? Everyone else avoiding a dude? IT'S A HINT.
None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore [...] When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn't quite as
oblivious as he appeared [...] He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van — there was no other
conclusion I could come to.
"He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van." AND SHE STILL WANTS HIM. CoV! DRINK! I can assure you, Bella, Edward's not the only one who wishes you weren't saved.
I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried.
So, let me get this straight: The chapter opens by saying the next month was weird, then tells us about how the first week after the accident was weird, and now we're hearing about the DAY AFTER the accident? Goddamnit, she DOES have a TARDIS. Son of a bitch. Meyer, if you're gonna insist on summarizing a month, summarize the damned thing IN ORDER.
But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.
Of course. Because a guy blowing you off is HOT. I'm getting horny just thinking about it. No, wait, I'm getting angry. That's it. ANGRY.
He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.
"Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.
And now, if you look to your left, you'll see the CYCLE OF VIOLENCE. DRINK!
Hmmm, perhaps those playing along should switch to non-alcoholic beverages. You lot are badass. No dying before I'm done.
And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day.
My god, you epic dumbass. Being in the same room as someone COUNTS AS CONTACT.
Also, Meyer: "And that was the last contact I'd had with him" Why the hell is there past perfect here? Do you not own a fourth grade grammar book? "And that was the last contact I had with him." means EXACTLY THE SAME THING and doesn't cause confusion with a double use of "had". RULE SIX
I'd add grammar fuckery to the drinking game, but then I wouldn't be able to see straight. Oh, hell, why not.
I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself
Say it with me, folks: STALK. ER.
Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression,
What 17-year-old uses the term "tenor" to describe her e-mails? And why the hell is Bella's mother--supposedly Bella's bestest friend EVAH--being caled "Renee"?
I could see [Mike had] been worried that Edward's daring rescue might have impressed me, and
he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect.
But, of course, Bella's not interested. Because Mike's TALKING TO HER. Oh, god, no. NOT THAT.
The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day.
TIMELINE. THINK OF THE TIMELINE.
Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.
What high school girl has no idea a dance is coming in in two weeks? One with her head COMPLETELY up her ass, obviously. Seriously, Bella, how's your colon look these days?
Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.
Bella has a range of abilities?
I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.
All Bella IS is inexplicable popularity. There's NOT A PERSONALITY to make Bella's company ANYTHING. I'm calling SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Drink!
Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign.
All right, Meyer, we're throwing down. I don't know what's got you so addicted to your half-assed attempt at complex sentences, but it's got to stop. "Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class" is a sentence all by itself. MAKE IT ONE. And then, instead of abusing that poor comma and dependent clause, you could try to write another full sentence. Like--oh, I don't know--"He had an uncomfortable look on his face that I took as a bad sign."
Or maybe that's too many words in one sentence for you. And that's a drink for the grammar nerds.
As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch,
But they haven't had CONTACT, people. Nope. Being in the SAME DAMNED ROOM isn't contact.
[Mike's] face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.
"I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me [to the dance]."
I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me.
Because guilt is an EMOTION, and it makes Bella THINK OF OTHER PEOPLE. And that's BAD.
"Did you already ask someone?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction?
That's right, a nice guy is making a point to tell Bella he wants her to ask him to a dance, and SHE'S WATCHING EDWARD. THE GUY WHO WON'T TALK TO HER. Mike, buddy, you're a nice guy. Flee. Flee like the building's burning down. Flee now. Bitch is crazy.
"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer — it's rude."
Wow. It's like being told to wash your hands by a monkey as it flings its poo.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head.
TAKE NOTES, GIRLS: Having sympathy and guilt over making someone feel bad--WHEN YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED IN THAT PERSON ROMANTICALLY--is a bad, bad thing. How dare you.
And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.
I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.
Edward only cares when another boy talks to Bella? Bella can't look away from him? CoV! DRINK!
I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me
CoV! DRINK!
I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me
Because you don't HAVE emotions. Or ideas. Or a PERSONALITY.
just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks.
"half-dozen weeks"? Really, Meyer? REALLY? How about, oh, "six weeks"? Because THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN. RULE 5. [Drink!] And the fuck is with the timeline? I thought this chapter was about the MONTH after the accident. Not the month and a HALF.
I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
Again, she SAYS it, but I bet she doesn't HEAR it. I'm not sure if this counts as CoV or not. You decide.
I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible
Because Edward, not wanting to talk to Bella, is AMAZING. That's right, ladies: No matter how much he doesn't show interest in you, you shouldn't stop thinking about him.
"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.
Stalker moments are now officially drinking moments. DRINK.
I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at his too-perfect face.
Fear? Self-loathing? The knowledge that you're about to enter into an abusive, uneven relationship? And BE OKAY WITH THAT?
"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.
His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.
PETULANCE. Because having a fully grown backbone is a BAD THING. But guys going on a power trip because they MAKE you petulant? DATING MATERIAL. ::thumbs up:: That's a CoV. Drink up.
"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.
And you won't have to watch him hit you! [Too far?<--That's a serious question.]
"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."
Oh, Edward, NO. Don't tell her to stay away. She's gonna leave love notes in her own blood, now!
"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."
My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.
What? WHERE? She's the WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Who would EVER not want to be her friend?
"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"
"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."
Let's be very clear here: Bella thinks that since Edward wants nothing to do with her, he must REGRET SAVING HER LIFE AND WANT HER DEAD. That's rational, right? If "rational" means "bat shit crazy".
He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.
Go with those feelings, Edward. FLEE.
When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"
"I know you do," I snapped.
BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO HER. I'm calling SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Because I need another damned drink.
I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped my books.
OF COURSE SHE DID. Because allowing Bella to have a shred of dignity would allow her to have a shred of self-image, and then she wouldn't want to be with Edward AT ALL. Because she'd have a WORKING BRAIN.
My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me.
Could someone please get the snowflake a goddamned helmet? How fucking hard is it to STAY STANDING? Oh, wait, no back bone. Cancel the helmet.
"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" [Eric's] voice broke on the last word.
"I thought it was girls' choice," I said, too startled to be diplomatic.
Honey, you wouldn't know diplomacy if it kicked you straight in the junk. And, once again, Bella has no interested because THE GUY IS SHOWING INTEREST IN HER.
[Eric] slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.
Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together.
He doesn't want her, but nobody else can have her? Yup, that's a CoV. Drink!
Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge him.
So what's your excuse the rest of the time?
"Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." [Tyler] grinned.
This could not be happening.
"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.
THREE GUYS. In one day, THREE GUYS have asked her to this damned dance, and she's told them all no. Which would be fine. If she weren't doing it BECAUSE THEY'RE SHOWING INTEREST.
Look, I know these books are an "allegory" [I use the quotes because I don't think Meyer could properly define the word] for chastity, and that's neat-o. You know what's not neat-o? Getting the idea into the heads of young women that a boy showing an honest, non-creepy interest in you is BAD.
"Yeah, Mike said that [you'd be out of town]," he admitted.
"Then why —"
He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."
Okay, it was completely his fault.
Yeah, it's COMPLETELY HIS FAULT THAT HE LIKES YOU. HOW DARE HE. And, really, this works right into my last point: If a boy likes you and tells you so, HE'S NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. You want the guy WHO WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. I don't see note taking!
In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tyler had said.
Yeah, Bella, that's the one you want: the one who thinks your unease around other guys is FUNNY. He's a goddamned winner.
I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom.
VERB. TENSE. How did Meyer START in past tense and END in present tese? DRINK.
I suggested — with casual innocence — that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available.
Well, isn't that so CHARITABLE of her? She turns down three guys, one gets a date, and she SO KINDLY sets up the other two. Because otherwise they may not get over the fucking snowflake. Drink.
After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room.
She can't think and play basketball without falling, but she can DICE CHICKEN? Fucking hell, if I were her parents, all her utensils would be foam rubber.
But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?
You need an interpreter for that? How's this: YOU'RE A GODDAMNED STALKER. DRINK.
My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must see how absorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be friends… because he wasn't interested in me at all.
Bet that doesn't stop her. If it does, I'll give you a million pounds. Or this bucket.
Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging — a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting.
Yeah, she said it. Bet she doesn't HEAR it. Because it's BELLA.
And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.
Wow. That's a lot of ellipses. Think Meyer knocked back a bit too much Merlot for this "description"? And, so we're clear, a bunch of adjectives strung together is NOT a description. Someone needs to remind Meyer about Show Vs. Tell. And verb tenses. And how teenagers talk. And why promoting an asshole as an acceptable boyfriend is a BAD IDEA.
Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave him alone.
Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
::wheeze::
Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Ohmigod, you guys!
She! Oh, god! She--bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him — the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.
Oh, Bella, he's ALWAYS trusted you in the kitchen. You have a VAGINA.
And, seriously, what the fuck is with the small-town hatred? "But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite". I'm from a town of 1300. My dad busted meth heads for a living. I'm sure the city cops were BRAVER about it, but my dad still busted down those doors with just his small-town courage. Fuck you, Meyer.
"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.
Because people in small towns are all redneck weirdos who don't know what a city is. God, I hate her even more. I didn't know that was possible.
"Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted.
The fuck is with the emphasis in this sentence? Charlie's trying to give her a hint, isn't he? He's realized she's a personality void with no redeeming values. Quick, Charlie! Shower her with praise and attention! She'll flee immediately, and you and Dr. Cullen can have your man dates again!
And, yes, I'm officially willing to find Dr. Cullen/Charlie slash. Because I should get SOME pleasure from all this.
"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle — and I can read a map, don't worry about it."
"You stupid, country redneck. I'm from the CITY. I know how cities work. You go back to chewing your cud, now." Seriously, Meyer, THE FUCK?
The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off.
BECAUSE MEN DON'T SHOP. They sit there holding the purses and looking embarrassed because GENDER STEREOTYPES ARE ALIVE AND WELL.
Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.
"Grrr"? REALLY? "GRRR"? And the emphasis implies that fathers don't keep up with school dances. That's the WOMAN'S JOB OF COURSE BECAUSE DANCES ARE GIRLY.
I didn't get my balance problems from my mother.
Jesus H., Meyer, you wanna beat up Charlie some more? You got some daddy issues to work out or something? I mean, seriously--she shows Charlie acting like a DECENT PARENT and immediately has Bella MAKE FUN OF HIM FOR IT. Were this a better written book, I could buy it as basic snarky teenager disease. But this is "Twilight", and Bella hates everyone who PAYS HER ATTENTION.
And I'm counting the shitty emphasis as a grammar error [mechanics are a partner to grammar]. DRINK.
The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo.
You show him, Bella. You...park away from him. Christ, woman. REALLY?
"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.
"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm.
"Appear out of thin air."
"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant."
Putting down someone for no reason at all? CoV. Drink up!
I scowled at his perfect face.
For which we still have NO ACTUAL DESCRIPTION.
"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."
"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." He snickered.
Yeah. Right. More like had to be sure Bella wouldn't dare say yes to anyone else. Because then she'd been SULLIED. That's right, ladies: Don't even go on DATES with boys you don't want to marry. It makes you UNCLEAN.
Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.
"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.
Edward's not wrong--Bella's completely absurd, but the sudden mood change, the unwarrented anger? That's a CoV. Drink.
I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised at myself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk away.
She wants to date a guy who MAKES HER FEEL VIOLENT. THE FUCK. I just. ARGH.
"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."
Apology mixed with an insult? That's a CoV. Hell, if I were drinking as I read this, I don't think I'd be coherent. I'd be wearing my pants on my head, I'd be so drunk.
"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.
"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.
"You're doing it again."
STOP SHOWING BACK BONE, BELLA. He won't be interested if you MOUTH OFF.
"Are you trying to be funny?"
An editor had to look at this, right? An editor had to see this emphasis and know it was wrong, RIGHT? Maybe the editor had to start her/his own drinking game to get through this. Maybe that's why it was missed. I mean, how do you MISS THAT? [DRINK]
"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"
"With who?" I asked, mystified.
"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped.
Bella, when have you said or done anything to make him think you're NOT mentally handicapped? You either stare at him, snap at him, simper at him, or consider hitting him. WHAT PART OF THAT IS NOT SOMEWHAT MENTALLY DEFICIENT?
"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.
"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."
Really? Suddenly this book has an opinion on the environment? REALLY?
"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated it.
TAKE THE DAMNED HINT YOU STUPID BROAD.
"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."
That's right, ladies; it's a TOTAL TURN-ON when a guy double talks at you. I know it gets ME all hot and bothered. With rage.
I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.
TEH PRETTEH: Making women simpering, stupid morons so that we'll make horrible decisions based on nothing substantial. Lovely message there, Meyer.
"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."
He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious. "You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."
I'm sorry; you'll have to speak up. There's a CYCLE OF VIOLENCE screaming in my ear. Because nothing says TWU WUV like a guy implying that being around him is DANGEROUS FOR YOU.
On a related note, I know a woman in her late twenties who has said she likes "Twilight" because the first person narrative means she can picture herself as the main character. It's not only girls and young women who are being convinced that the cycle of violence is a perfectly fine type of relationship; it's also women who have a history of making bad relationship decisions getting those decisions reinforced.
The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.
"Uneasy"? "Tense"? Paging the Department of Redundancy Department. Yo! Meyer! RULE FIVE
To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week.
WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. You know what? Let's add this to the drinking game. DRINK!
Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow.
Do you have your notepads, ladies? Take note: If a boy PAYS ATTENTION TO YOU he is a LOSER and NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. Also, just so we're clear, this guy? Is trying to apologize for nearly RUNNING HER DOWN. Tyler, honey, stop. Apologize to US for missing her.
He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.
Because a boy wanting to BE NICE and show you RESPECT is a LOSER. Who wants a guy who wants to treat you like a PERSON when you can have a guy who treats you like a TOY?
Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen [Edward] there till the van was pulled away.
Hey, Meyer? Bit of grammar knowledge for you:
"Till" is an antiquated version of the word "until". Using "till" instead of "until" does not make your book sound artsy or interesting. It makes your book sound idiotic. Not that it needs much help in that department.
With chagrin, I realized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.
WORLD'S SPECIALIST--MOST LIKELY TO STALK--SNOWFLAKE. DRINK.
Jesus Christ, did Meyer ever read this and go, "Huh, maybe I'm making Bella out to be a crazy, bitchy, self-obsessed, stalker. Will that send a bad message to women?" OF COURSE NOT, MEYER. Bella's a goddamned SNOWFLAKE. Everyone WANTS to be a GODDAMNED SNOWFLAKE.
Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual.
Which implies, of course, that Bella was CONTASTLY surrounded by curious bystanders. SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. DRINK. And, Bella? Everyone else avoiding a dude? IT'S A HINT.
None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore [...] When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn't quite as
oblivious as he appeared [...] He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van — there was no other
conclusion I could come to.
"He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van." AND SHE STILL WANTS HIM. CoV! DRINK! I can assure you, Bella, Edward's not the only one who wishes you weren't saved.
I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried.
So, let me get this straight: The chapter opens by saying the next month was weird, then tells us about how the first week after the accident was weird, and now we're hearing about the DAY AFTER the accident? Goddamnit, she DOES have a TARDIS. Son of a bitch. Meyer, if you're gonna insist on summarizing a month, summarize the damned thing IN ORDER.
But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.
Of course. Because a guy blowing you off is HOT. I'm getting horny just thinking about it. No, wait, I'm getting angry. That's it. ANGRY.
He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.
"Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.
And now, if you look to your left, you'll see the CYCLE OF VIOLENCE. DRINK!
Hmmm, perhaps those playing along should switch to non-alcoholic beverages. You lot are badass. No dying before I'm done.
And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day.
My god, you epic dumbass. Being in the same room as someone COUNTS AS CONTACT.
Also, Meyer: "And that was the last contact I'd had with him" Why the hell is there past perfect here? Do you not own a fourth grade grammar book? "And that was the last contact I had with him." means EXACTLY THE SAME THING and doesn't cause confusion with a double use of "had". RULE SIX
I'd add grammar fuckery to the drinking game, but then I wouldn't be able to see straight. Oh, hell, why not.
I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself
Say it with me, folks: STALK. ER.
Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression,
What 17-year-old uses the term "tenor" to describe her e-mails? And why the hell is Bella's mother--supposedly Bella's bestest friend EVAH--being caled "Renee"?
I could see [Mike had] been worried that Edward's daring rescue might have impressed me, and
he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect.
But, of course, Bella's not interested. Because Mike's TALKING TO HER. Oh, god, no. NOT THAT.
The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day.
TIMELINE. THINK OF THE TIMELINE.
Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.
What high school girl has no idea a dance is coming in in two weeks? One with her head COMPLETELY up her ass, obviously. Seriously, Bella, how's your colon look these days?
Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.
Bella has a range of abilities?
I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.
All Bella IS is inexplicable popularity. There's NOT A PERSONALITY to make Bella's company ANYTHING. I'm calling SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Drink!
Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign.
All right, Meyer, we're throwing down. I don't know what's got you so addicted to your half-assed attempt at complex sentences, but it's got to stop. "Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class" is a sentence all by itself. MAKE IT ONE. And then, instead of abusing that poor comma and dependent clause, you could try to write another full sentence. Like--oh, I don't know--"He had an uncomfortable look on his face that I took as a bad sign."
Or maybe that's too many words in one sentence for you. And that's a drink for the grammar nerds.
As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch,
But they haven't had CONTACT, people. Nope. Being in the SAME DAMNED ROOM isn't contact.
[Mike's] face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.
"I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me [to the dance]."
I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me.
Because guilt is an EMOTION, and it makes Bella THINK OF OTHER PEOPLE. And that's BAD.
"Did you already ask someone?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction?
That's right, a nice guy is making a point to tell Bella he wants her to ask him to a dance, and SHE'S WATCHING EDWARD. THE GUY WHO WON'T TALK TO HER. Mike, buddy, you're a nice guy. Flee. Flee like the building's burning down. Flee now. Bitch is crazy.
"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer — it's rude."
Wow. It's like being told to wash your hands by a monkey as it flings its poo.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head.
TAKE NOTES, GIRLS: Having sympathy and guilt over making someone feel bad--WHEN YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED IN THAT PERSON ROMANTICALLY--is a bad, bad thing. How dare you.
And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.
I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.
Edward only cares when another boy talks to Bella? Bella can't look away from him? CoV! DRINK!
I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me
CoV! DRINK!
I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me
Because you don't HAVE emotions. Or ideas. Or a PERSONALITY.
just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks.
"half-dozen weeks"? Really, Meyer? REALLY? How about, oh, "six weeks"? Because THAT'S HOW LONG IT'S BEEN. RULE 5. [Drink!] And the fuck is with the timeline? I thought this chapter was about the MONTH after the accident. Not the month and a HALF.
I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
Again, she SAYS it, but I bet she doesn't HEAR it. I'm not sure if this counts as CoV or not. You decide.
I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible
Because Edward, not wanting to talk to Bella, is AMAZING. That's right, ladies: No matter how much he doesn't show interest in you, you shouldn't stop thinking about him.
"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.
Stalker moments are now officially drinking moments. DRINK.
I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at his too-perfect face.
Fear? Self-loathing? The knowledge that you're about to enter into an abusive, uneven relationship? And BE OKAY WITH THAT?
"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.
His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.
PETULANCE. Because having a fully grown backbone is a BAD THING. But guys going on a power trip because they MAKE you petulant? DATING MATERIAL. ::thumbs up:: That's a CoV. Drink up.
"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.
And you won't have to watch him hit you! [Too far?<--That's a serious question.]
"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."
Oh, Edward, NO. Don't tell her to stay away. She's gonna leave love notes in her own blood, now!
"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."
My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.
What? WHERE? She's the WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Who would EVER not want to be her friend?
"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"
"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."
Let's be very clear here: Bella thinks that since Edward wants nothing to do with her, he must REGRET SAVING HER LIFE AND WANT HER DEAD. That's rational, right? If "rational" means "bat shit crazy".
He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.
Go with those feelings, Edward. FLEE.
When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"
"I know you do," I snapped.
BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO HER. I'm calling SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE. Because I need another damned drink.
I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped my books.
OF COURSE SHE DID. Because allowing Bella to have a shred of dignity would allow her to have a shred of self-image, and then she wouldn't want to be with Edward AT ALL. Because she'd have a WORKING BRAIN.
My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me.
Could someone please get the snowflake a goddamned helmet? How fucking hard is it to STAY STANDING? Oh, wait, no back bone. Cancel the helmet.
"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" [Eric's] voice broke on the last word.
"I thought it was girls' choice," I said, too startled to be diplomatic.
Honey, you wouldn't know diplomacy if it kicked you straight in the junk. And, once again, Bella has no interested because THE GUY IS SHOWING INTEREST IN HER.
[Eric] slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.
Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together.
He doesn't want her, but nobody else can have her? Yup, that's a CoV. Drink!
Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge him.
So what's your excuse the rest of the time?
"Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." [Tyler] grinned.
This could not be happening.
"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.
THREE GUYS. In one day, THREE GUYS have asked her to this damned dance, and she's told them all no. Which would be fine. If she weren't doing it BECAUSE THEY'RE SHOWING INTEREST.
Look, I know these books are an "allegory" [I use the quotes because I don't think Meyer could properly define the word] for chastity, and that's neat-o. You know what's not neat-o? Getting the idea into the heads of young women that a boy showing an honest, non-creepy interest in you is BAD.
"Yeah, Mike said that [you'd be out of town]," he admitted.
"Then why —"
He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."
Okay, it was completely his fault.
Yeah, it's COMPLETELY HIS FAULT THAT HE LIKES YOU. HOW DARE HE. And, really, this works right into my last point: If a boy likes you and tells you so, HE'S NOT WORTH YOUR TIME. You want the guy WHO WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. I don't see note taking!
In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tyler had said.
Yeah, Bella, that's the one you want: the one who thinks your unease around other guys is FUNNY. He's a goddamned winner.
I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom.
VERB. TENSE. How did Meyer START in past tense and END in present tese? DRINK.
I suggested — with casual innocence — that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available.
Well, isn't that so CHARITABLE of her? She turns down three guys, one gets a date, and she SO KINDLY sets up the other two. Because otherwise they may not get over the fucking snowflake. Drink.
After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room.
She can't think and play basketball without falling, but she can DICE CHICKEN? Fucking hell, if I were her parents, all her utensils would be foam rubber.
But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?
You need an interpreter for that? How's this: YOU'RE A GODDAMNED STALKER. DRINK.
My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must see how absorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be friends… because he wasn't interested in me at all.
Bet that doesn't stop her. If it does, I'll give you a million pounds. Or this bucket.
Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging — a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting.
Yeah, she said it. Bet she doesn't HEAR it. Because it's BELLA.
And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.
Wow. That's a lot of ellipses. Think Meyer knocked back a bit too much Merlot for this "description"? And, so we're clear, a bunch of adjectives strung together is NOT a description. Someone needs to remind Meyer about Show Vs. Tell. And verb tenses. And how teenagers talk. And why promoting an asshole as an acceptable boyfriend is a BAD IDEA.
Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave him alone.
Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
::wheeze::
Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Ohmigod, you guys!
She! Oh, god! She--bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him — the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.
Oh, Bella, he's ALWAYS trusted you in the kitchen. You have a VAGINA.
And, seriously, what the fuck is with the small-town hatred? "But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite". I'm from a town of 1300. My dad busted meth heads for a living. I'm sure the city cops were BRAVER about it, but my dad still busted down those doors with just his small-town courage. Fuck you, Meyer.
"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.
Because people in small towns are all redneck weirdos who don't know what a city is. God, I hate her even more. I didn't know that was possible.
"Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted.
The fuck is with the emphasis in this sentence? Charlie's trying to give her a hint, isn't he? He's realized she's a personality void with no redeeming values. Quick, Charlie! Shower her with praise and attention! She'll flee immediately, and you and Dr. Cullen can have your man dates again!
And, yes, I'm officially willing to find Dr. Cullen/Charlie slash. Because I should get SOME pleasure from all this.
"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle — and I can read a map, don't worry about it."
"You stupid, country redneck. I'm from the CITY. I know how cities work. You go back to chewing your cud, now." Seriously, Meyer, THE FUCK?
The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off.
BECAUSE MEN DON'T SHOP. They sit there holding the purses and looking embarrassed because GENDER STEREOTYPES ARE ALIVE AND WELL.
Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.
"Grrr"? REALLY? "GRRR"? And the emphasis implies that fathers don't keep up with school dances. That's the WOMAN'S JOB OF COURSE BECAUSE DANCES ARE GIRLY.
I didn't get my balance problems from my mother.
Jesus H., Meyer, you wanna beat up Charlie some more? You got some daddy issues to work out or something? I mean, seriously--she shows Charlie acting like a DECENT PARENT and immediately has Bella MAKE FUN OF HIM FOR IT. Were this a better written book, I could buy it as basic snarky teenager disease. But this is "Twilight", and Bella hates everyone who PAYS HER ATTENTION.
And I'm counting the shitty emphasis as a grammar error [mechanics are a partner to grammar]. DRINK.
The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo.
You show him, Bella. You...park away from him. Christ, woman. REALLY?
"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.
"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm.
"Appear out of thin air."
"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant."
Putting down someone for no reason at all? CoV. Drink up!
I scowled at his perfect face.
For which we still have NO ACTUAL DESCRIPTION.
"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."
"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." He snickered.
Yeah. Right. More like had to be sure Bella wouldn't dare say yes to anyone else. Because then she'd been SULLIED. That's right, ladies: Don't even go on DATES with boys you don't want to marry. It makes you UNCLEAN.
Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.
"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.
Edward's not wrong--Bella's completely absurd, but the sudden mood change, the unwarrented anger? That's a CoV. Drink.
I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised at myself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk away.
She wants to date a guy who MAKES HER FEEL VIOLENT. THE FUCK. I just. ARGH.
"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."
Apology mixed with an insult? That's a CoV. Hell, if I were drinking as I read this, I don't think I'd be coherent. I'd be wearing my pants on my head, I'd be so drunk.
"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.
"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.
"You're doing it again."
STOP SHOWING BACK BONE, BELLA. He won't be interested if you MOUTH OFF.
"Are you trying to be funny?"
An editor had to look at this, right? An editor had to see this emphasis and know it was wrong, RIGHT? Maybe the editor had to start her/his own drinking game to get through this. Maybe that's why it was missed. I mean, how do you MISS THAT? [DRINK]
"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"
"With who?" I asked, mystified.
"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped.
Bella, when have you said or done anything to make him think you're NOT mentally handicapped? You either stare at him, snap at him, simper at him, or consider hitting him. WHAT PART OF THAT IS NOT SOMEWHAT MENTALLY DEFICIENT?
"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.
"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."
Really? Suddenly this book has an opinion on the environment? REALLY?
"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated it.
TAKE THE DAMNED HINT YOU STUPID BROAD.
"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."
That's right, ladies; it's a TOTAL TURN-ON when a guy double talks at you. I know it gets ME all hot and bothered. With rage.
I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.
TEH PRETTEH: Making women simpering, stupid morons so that we'll make horrible decisions based on nothing substantial. Lovely message there, Meyer.
"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."
He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious. "You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."
I'm sorry; you'll have to speak up. There's a CYCLE OF VIOLENCE screaming in my ear. Because nothing says TWU WUV like a guy implying that being around him is DANGEROUS FOR YOU.
On a related note, I know a woman in her late twenties who has said she likes "Twilight" because the first person narrative means she can picture herself as the main character. It's not only girls and young women who are being convinced that the cycle of violence is a perfectly fine type of relationship; it's also women who have a history of making bad relationship decisions getting those decisions reinforced.
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no subject
on 2009-02-13 06:59 am (UTC)HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!
I talked to the librarian this morning (I admit, I'm curious now, and would like to read it myself without shelling out for it), and she said the school library doesn't have Twilight and there's a huge waiting list for it at the city library.
Of course, at this rate, there won't be any reason for me to read it.
(Maybe the editor was high. Either that, or he/she/it needs to go into a line of work in which he/she/it is actually competent.)
no subject
on 2009-02-13 07:04 am (UTC)The Husband's synopsis, so far: "This is really shaping up to be a book about people I don't want to think about. Because they're bad people."
Take that for whatever you think it's worth. I tend to trust his taste.
Drunk Commenting?
on 2009-02-13 07:25 am (UTC)...
*shotguns the beer*
*happily wears a pair of underpants on her head*
***
I know lots of people who want to be special snowflakes! Gamer geeks who have nothing else to live for except their paper penises! Yay!
The whole thing about the girls asking the guys to the dance seriously threw me off until I realized it was a Sadie Hawkins dance. Did Meyer mention that somewhere? Because if she didn't, that's just stupid.
Also? Jessica asking Bella permission to take Mike to the dance? WTF? "WAAAH! I'M ALL POPULAR, AND I DON'T WANT TO BE, OMG. PEOPLE ARE ASKING ME FOR PERMISSION ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE. OMG, I'M SO CLUMSY, AND EDWARD IS HAWT AND TREATS ME LIKE SHIT AND I HATE HIM AND I WANT TO HIT HIM, BUT OURS IS A LOVE SO PURE THAT WE WILL BE TOGETHER FOR ALL TIME, I JUST KNOW IT... AND I SHOULD PROBABLY MAKE THIS INTO FIVE SENTENCES, BUT THE PERIOD LOOKS SO LONELY BY ITSELF. *SOB*"
And dude, the guy who accidentally almost smushed Bella? Trying to ask her to the dance? After she's been rebuffing him? Yes, Bella is totally crazy, but what about that guy? "I totally nearly killed you, ASK ME TO THE DANCE."
And, yes, I'm officially willing to find Dr. Cullen/Charlie slash. Because I should get SOME pleasure from all this.
I'm still freaking amazed that a crack pairing in the movie might just have some vague basis in canon?
Something else that I noticed? Meyer said that she named Isabella after a name that she wanted to give her daughter, because she loved these characters so much.
... What does that say about the kind of stuff she'd actually want her daughter to be like? *wibble*
Re: Drunk Commenting?
on 2009-02-13 04:13 pm (UTC)Tyler asking Bella to the dance is totally batshit. If I'd nearly run someone down I'd be apologizing and trying NOT to get noticed. But, again, this is Bella, the specialist snowflake.
Meyer has three sons. She wrote this book, and its sequels, aiming for an audience of young women who would probably date her sons. Just thinking about it makes me twitch.
And your underpants look lovely.
Re: Drunk Commenting?
on 2009-02-13 10:56 pm (UTC)I think I have some long-johns somewheres. I can totally share. *offers?*
Ahhhh, okay, I think I must've read somewhere that if Meyer had ever had a daughter, she would've named her Isabella. I mean, it's a nice name and all, but my niece is Isabelle (born before Twilight came out, thank God), and I'd rather not have her related in anyway shape or form to Bella. :(
no subject
on 2009-02-13 04:08 pm (UTC)Your dad is badass, and Carlisle/Charlie would be HOT.
no subject
on 2009-02-13 04:15 pm (UTC)I'm wondering if there's ever a point that Carlisle and Charlie talk, if I'm gonna have to invent the whole thing.
Son of a bitch. I just wrote "I".
<.<
>.>
You saw nothing.