Friday evening Matt and I picked up some Chinese food and rented The Iron Giant. If you haven't seen it, go see it! It was wonderful. But it made me bawl like a baby. Usually when a movie gets me teary-eyed, I have a few tears leak out of the corners of my eyes, and I sniffle a little and wipe the tears away and keep going.
Hah. This time I was crying so hard I couldn't even see the climactic moment. I wouldn't have been able to see it even if I hadn't had my face buried in Matt's shirt. This wasn't "weeping" - this was sobbing. I'm glad they ended it on a slightly more upbeat note, because otherwise I'd probably still be depressed. (If it hadn't been a kids' movie, they probably wouldn't have bothered.)
Still. Go see it, and take a hanky.
I got on IM after the movie and wound up talking to Karen and Jeff. Jeff reminded me that I cry at movies even when I know what's going to happen in advance. His specific example was Cyrano, though there are other movies for which that holds true. He's right. I'm an incurable romantic. I'd say I was a hopeless romantic, but that's not accurate - the reason I always cry at the end of Cyrano is because despite knowing what's coming, I always hope that this time, it will be different.
Braz logged on a little later, and I wound up staying up fairly late chatting with him. (No, not until 4 again!) We started talking about the MeadeHall, but the conversation wandered all over the place - religion and marriage and school memories. I have been constantly astonished by Braz for the past several weeks. Until fairly recently, he was pretty firmly installed in my mind as someone who my friend because he was Matt's best friend - that crazy, fun, silly guy who comes to visit every so often with his sweet wife. And that's about all there was to Braz, as far as I was concerned.
And then recently, in the past couple of months, we started talking more and more. Mostly because of the MeadeHall plot, I grant. But the subject didn't always stay there, and I started learning more about him, and it turned out that there were depths to him that I never would have suspected. Intrigued, I kept talking and listening, and it seems now that he is shifting solidly from being "my husband's best friend" to "my good friend." I'm excited. I don't make friends very quickly or easily.
My only concern is that Matt might be... Jealous is too strong a word, but perhaps a little envious, because we spend so much time talking. But I wasn't kidding the other week when I said the two of them practically operate with a hive mind. I'm still working on getting a frame of reference. Besides, Matt is amazing and understanding and resilient. He managed to accept the fact that my closest female friend was his ex-girlfriend. Surely he can come to grips with my making friends with his best friend.
Wow. That was way too philosophical for a Monday morning. Sorry.
Anyway, I spent Saturday lounging around in glorious sluggitude. I chatted on IM between reading chapters of Cryptonomicon (which I can only read for about a chapter at a time before I have to stop and digest it) and watching television. I put together a character for K.T.'s Vampire one-shot game, and around four or so we went over to her place and gamed.
The game was fun, if a little silly. It was good to see Greg again, since he's been out of games for the past six weeks or so with serious problems that turned out to be hypoglycemia. (Which relieved us to no end, because apparently the doctors had been bandying about phrases like "brain tumor." Ack!)
I got restless around the end of the game, and we went home almost right after it ended. (Diet Dr. Pepper and about half a pound of salt water taffy. If only I'd known, back in my cramming days.) I wound up staying up late working on a story I'm writing that's sortof based on the MeadeHall plot. (Oh, it feels wonderful to be writing again, even if half of what comes out of the word processor is crap or drivel.)
Sunday was pretty lazy as well, especially since I managed to grab a nap in the afternoon and Matt did most of the laundry while I slept. (I said he was amazing, didn't I?)
But, darn it, the weekend was still too short, and I really want to go back home and crawl into bed and snuggle with my sweetie!
Word of the Day: moil - to work hard, to drudge; to be in continuous agitation
I would whine about the moiling I'll be doing at work this week, except I honestly don't think most of it will take very long once I get going.
Getting going, on the other hand, could be a herculean effort.
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