![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perpetual_motionI imagine Spider Jerusalem, if he ever met Stephanie Meyer [and was, in fact, a real person], would set the bowel disruptor to "prolapse" and go about his day. Wish I had a bowel disruptor.
Chapter 5 is titled, "Blood Type". I need a drink. And I'm not kidding.
::goes off to make a drink::
Okay, I've got a Cosmo the size of my head. Let's do this.
"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.
I love you, Mr. Mason. Marry me.
It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven.
Of COURSE NOT. WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE WILL ALWAYS BE LOVED. Drink!
Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend.
"seemed", "walked", "talked", "this weekend"
One of these things is not like the other. One of these things isn't grammatically correct. DRINK.
I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing [Mike] yesterday.
Yup, that's right, now that she's TURNED HIM DOWN she's totally cool with NOT TREATING HIM LIKE SHIT.
It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked.
Firstly: VOMIT
Secondly: "the way his eyes had looked" is a dependent clause. You don't use a comma before a conjunction before a dependent clause. My god, how drunk was that editor? Speaking of: Drink!
Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.
Got your notes, ladies? If you're filled with self-loathing, the guy who doesn't want anything to do with you will TOTALLY find you appealing.
So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks.
Why hello, CoV! How you been? Drink! The Husband argued that this line, on its own, does not automatically sound like it's CoV. I argued that the rest of the book [all four chapters] make it fall under CoV. I won.
Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — completely unaware of my inattention.
Bella, you sure they're completely unaware, or is it possible they JUST DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE THINKING EVERY GODDAMNED MINUTE? Specialist snowflake? Oh, my yes. Drink.
So, Bella gets to the cafeteria and doesn't see Edward. What does she do? SHE LOSES HER APPETITE. Take notes, ladies: If the boy you have a crush on isn't there, IT'S PERFECTLY RATIONAL TO LOSE YOUR APPETITE.
Oh, but it's okay, because Edward actually is there. Bella just didn't think to look somewhere else than his USUAL TABLE. She doesn't think to LOOK AROUND. If she looked up when it rained, she would drown.
I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.
Sorry, I can't hear you. I have EPIC DOUCHE in my ear.
"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.
Jessica, I love you as well. Bella, it's only insulting if there's no reason to be astonished. You're a PERSONALITY VOID. I'M astonished Edward's interested, and I DON'T EVEN LIKE THE DOUCHE.
"Um, I'd better go see what he wants."
The lesson? If a man CROOKS HIS FINGER and WINKS at you, you get to his side immediately. Because you are a WOMAN.
When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.
Because she DOESN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO SIT. Because Edward is a MAN. I'd add sexism to the drinking game, but then I'd be at the hospital. With alcohol poisoning. Heavy, heavy alcohol poisoning.
"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.
I sat down automatically,
Good dog. Have a treat.
It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real.
A beautiful for which we still have NO DESCRIPTION.
"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."
WHAT.
>.>
<.<
WHAT.
I want you to know, I'm not taking this out of context. This line never actually gets explained.
"I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."
Because you are an OBJECT, Bella. An OBJECT.
"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.
I gulped.
He laughed. "You look worried."
"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"
"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.
"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.
"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.
YOU DIRTY SLUT BELLA. HOW DARE YOU TEMPT HIM OFF THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW. FUCK YOURSELF EDWARD.
"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."
"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.
"I'm counting on that."
Bella's a stupid bint, and Edward's glad she can't understand him. Is anyone else seriously squicked by this? I mean, seriously, HOW IS THIS HEALTHY?
"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"
"Friends…" he mused, dubious.
"Or not," I muttered.
He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.
HOW CAN ANYONE MISS THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE HERE? I mean, my GOD. He's basically saying, "Oh, I'm gonna be a douche to you. I mean it. I'm gonna be a douche." And she's COOL WITH IT.
"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.
"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."
"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.
Okay, this gets less fun when Bella makes the jokes for me. I'm gonna drink. Because I need it.
"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.
"That sounds about right."
Yeah. You read that right. As long as Bella IS AN IDIOT Edward wants to be around her. But if Bella IS NOT AN IDIOT Edward doesn't want to be around her.
"I'm trying to figure out what you are."
He's a DOUCHE, Bella. An epic, abusive DOUCHE.
I blushed. I had been vacillating
There are 17-year-olds who use the word "vacillating". Because they are smart. But this is BELLA. And the average reader of this hot mess probably has no idea what the word means. RULE FIVE, Meyer!
And then there's three paragraphs of Bella being a complete passive-aggressive ass. So we're gonna skip it. Because, dear god, I like you lot too well to subject you to it.
"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."
"Except me, of course."
"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."
SPECIALIST-SNOWFLAKE, Edward. Don't you know? And, yeah, that's a drink.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.
"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies.
No. I did not just read that. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. It's the vodka. It has to be. Also, take a drink for that dash. The damned things are making me crazy. It's like Meyer heard about them once, thought they were neat, and then decorated the whole book with them as a person of supposed taste sees chintz on a single chair and decides the whole house needs to be covered in the damned fabric.
Also, I'm proud of that simile.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."
"It's not much," I assured him.
He waited, guarded but curious.
"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.
"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.
Okay, I know I've said it a dozen times before, but how does THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE NOT GET NOTICED? People read this and see a love story. I read this and keep waiting for Edward to hit Bella. And that's not an exaggeration. [And, yes, DRINK]
He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.
"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.
I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?
He's a controlling asshole, and you're LETTING YOURSELF GET SUCKED IN.
Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?
YOU HAVE TO ASK?
"That's not very creative," he scoffed.
He constantly puts you down because he WUVS YOU.
"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.
"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.
"Because… ?"
"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.
If he's so GODDAMNED WORRIED about fucking her up, WHY DOESN'T HE JUST STAY AWAY?
Dear self: Stop using logic. And take another drink. [That one's just for me.]
"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."
"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much.
"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along.
I could snark this. It'd be easy. [Bella, if you were any thicker, you'd be the Oxford English Dictionary.] But I'm gonna link to Sarah Haskins, who is brilliant and can make the point in a much less capslock-sy way.
He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.
It's loathing, Bella. Because he's just realize you're gonna FALL FOR HIM ANYWAY.
"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."
There are many variations of this particular line running through my head. The loudest one? "He hits me because he loves me." And I'm making this a no-drink moment of CoV, because I'm so disturbed at this whole portrait I'd like to have a copy of this book in print so I could set it on fire.
I stared at him, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him.
She's not AFRAID. But she's ANXIOUS and ON EDGE. Goddamnit, Meyer. Just, goddamn you, and your book, and your idiotic idea that being ANXIOUS AND ON FUCKING EDGE around a guy are OKAY. That these feelings are HEALTHY. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Okay, that's it for tonight. I just...jesus h., the shit Meyer's spewing is actually getting WORSE. And even more psychologically unhealthy. Think about that.
Yeah, I'm ending this one on a downer. I didn't mean to, but there are times when shit falls like it does for a reason. And this reason? Is because this shit is fucked up.
Chapter 5 is titled, "Blood Type". I need a drink. And I'm not kidding.
::goes off to make a drink::
Okay, I've got a Cosmo the size of my head. Let's do this.
"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.
I love you, Mr. Mason. Marry me.
It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven.
Of COURSE NOT. WORLD'S SPECIALIST SNOWFLAKE WILL ALWAYS BE LOVED. Drink!
Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend.
"seemed", "walked", "talked", "this weekend"
One of these things is not like the other. One of these things isn't grammatically correct. DRINK.
I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing [Mike] yesterday.
Yup, that's right, now that she's TURNED HIM DOWN she's totally cool with NOT TREATING HIM LIKE SHIT.
It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked.
Firstly: VOMIT
Secondly: "the way his eyes had looked" is a dependent clause. You don't use a comma before a conjunction before a dependent clause. My god, how drunk was that editor? Speaking of: Drink!
Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.
Got your notes, ladies? If you're filled with self-loathing, the guy who doesn't want anything to do with you will TOTALLY find you appealing.
So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks.
Why hello, CoV! How you been? Drink! The Husband argued that this line, on its own, does not automatically sound like it's CoV. I argued that the rest of the book [all four chapters] make it fall under CoV. I won.
Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — completely unaware of my inattention.
Bella, you sure they're completely unaware, or is it possible they JUST DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE THINKING EVERY GODDAMNED MINUTE? Specialist snowflake? Oh, my yes. Drink.
So, Bella gets to the cafeteria and doesn't see Edward. What does she do? SHE LOSES HER APPETITE. Take notes, ladies: If the boy you have a crush on isn't there, IT'S PERFECTLY RATIONAL TO LOSE YOUR APPETITE.
Oh, but it's okay, because Edward actually is there. Bella just didn't think to look somewhere else than his USUAL TABLE. She doesn't think to LOOK AROUND. If she looked up when it rained, she would drown.
I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.
Sorry, I can't hear you. I have EPIC DOUCHE in my ear.
"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.
Jessica, I love you as well. Bella, it's only insulting if there's no reason to be astonished. You're a PERSONALITY VOID. I'M astonished Edward's interested, and I DON'T EVEN LIKE THE DOUCHE.
"Um, I'd better go see what he wants."
The lesson? If a man CROOKS HIS FINGER and WINKS at you, you get to his side immediately. Because you are a WOMAN.
When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.
Because she DOESN'T HAVE PERMISSION TO SIT. Because Edward is a MAN. I'd add sexism to the drinking game, but then I'd be at the hospital. With alcohol poisoning. Heavy, heavy alcohol poisoning.
"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.
I sat down automatically,
Good dog. Have a treat.
It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real.
A beautiful for which we still have NO DESCRIPTION.
"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."
WHAT.
>.>
<.<
WHAT.
I want you to know, I'm not taking this out of context. This line never actually gets explained.
"I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."
Because you are an OBJECT, Bella. An OBJECT.
"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.
I gulped.
He laughed. "You look worried."
"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"
"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.
"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.
"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.
YOU DIRTY SLUT BELLA. HOW DARE YOU TEMPT HIM OFF THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW. FUCK YOURSELF EDWARD.
"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."
"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.
"I'm counting on that."
Bella's a stupid bint, and Edward's glad she can't understand him. Is anyone else seriously squicked by this? I mean, seriously, HOW IS THIS HEALTHY?
"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"
"Friends…" he mused, dubious.
"Or not," I muttered.
He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.
HOW CAN ANYONE MISS THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE HERE? I mean, my GOD. He's basically saying, "Oh, I'm gonna be a douche to you. I mean it. I'm gonna be a douche." And she's COOL WITH IT.
"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.
"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."
"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.
Okay, this gets less fun when Bella makes the jokes for me. I'm gonna drink. Because I need it.
"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.
"That sounds about right."
Yeah. You read that right. As long as Bella IS AN IDIOT Edward wants to be around her. But if Bella IS NOT AN IDIOT Edward doesn't want to be around her.
"I'm trying to figure out what you are."
He's a DOUCHE, Bella. An epic, abusive DOUCHE.
I blushed. I had been vacillating
There are 17-year-olds who use the word "vacillating". Because they are smart. But this is BELLA. And the average reader of this hot mess probably has no idea what the word means. RULE FIVE, Meyer!
And then there's three paragraphs of Bella being a complete passive-aggressive ass. So we're gonna skip it. Because, dear god, I like you lot too well to subject you to it.
"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."
"Except me, of course."
"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."
SPECIALIST-SNOWFLAKE, Edward. Don't you know? And, yeah, that's a drink.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.
"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies.
No. I did not just read that. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. It's the vodka. It has to be. Also, take a drink for that dash. The damned things are making me crazy. It's like Meyer heard about them once, thought they were neat, and then decorated the whole book with them as a person of supposed taste sees chintz on a single chair and decides the whole house needs to be covered in the damned fabric.
Also, I'm proud of that simile.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."
"It's not much," I assured him.
He waited, guarded but curious.
"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.
"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.
Okay, I know I've said it a dozen times before, but how does THE CYCLE OF VIOLENCE NOT GET NOTICED? People read this and see a love story. I read this and keep waiting for Edward to hit Bella. And that's not an exaggeration. [And, yes, DRINK]
He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.
"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.
I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?
He's a controlling asshole, and you're LETTING YOURSELF GET SUCKED IN.
Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?
YOU HAVE TO ASK?
"That's not very creative," he scoffed.
He constantly puts you down because he WUVS YOU.
"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.
"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.
"Because… ?"
"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.
If he's so GODDAMNED WORRIED about fucking her up, WHY DOESN'T HE JUST STAY AWAY?
Dear self: Stop using logic. And take another drink. [That one's just for me.]
"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."
"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much.
"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along.
I could snark this. It'd be easy. [Bella, if you were any thicker, you'd be the Oxford English Dictionary.] But I'm gonna link to Sarah Haskins, who is brilliant and can make the point in a much less capslock-sy way.
He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.
It's loathing, Bella. Because he's just realize you're gonna FALL FOR HIM ANYWAY.
"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."
There are many variations of this particular line running through my head. The loudest one? "He hits me because he loves me." And I'm making this a no-drink moment of CoV, because I'm so disturbed at this whole portrait I'd like to have a copy of this book in print so I could set it on fire.
I stared at him, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him.
She's not AFRAID. But she's ANXIOUS and ON EDGE. Goddamnit, Meyer. Just, goddamn you, and your book, and your idiotic idea that being ANXIOUS AND ON FUCKING EDGE around a guy are OKAY. That these feelings are HEALTHY. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Okay, that's it for tonight. I just...jesus h., the shit Meyer's spewing is actually getting WORSE. And even more psychologically unhealthy. Think about that.
Yeah, I'm ending this one on a downer. I didn't mean to, but there are times when shit falls like it does for a reason. And this reason? Is because this shit is fucked up.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-02-14 09:40 am (UTC)i was so sad about the movie because, hey, cedric diggory. however, not even SPARKLY CEDRIC DIGGORY could induce me to shell out real money for this train wreck.
no subject
on 2009-02-14 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-14 07:35 pm (UTC)::offers vodka::
no subject
on 2009-02-14 07:44 pm (UTC)::does a shot::
no subject
on 2009-02-14 09:40 pm (UTC)