I love dusk.

Actually, I love Twilight, but I knew this would be in a big font and possibly drive away the 2 people who might actually read my blog. On that note, I should apologize, because I haven’t written anything new here in a looooong time. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve thought about it lots. I’ve been thinking I should actually pick a theme or niche for my blog, because leaving it wide open tends to result in just that: Wide open blank spaces for vast amounts of time. You’ll be pleased to know that I have actually picked said niche, but don’t want to get into it just yet for reasons that make no sense whatsoever.

Anyway, back to Twilight. I admit it: I have the fever. It began back in 2009, while flying to Brazil. I’d been a Twilight holdout, refusing to see the movie or really think about the books, largely because my niece, whom I adore, was just WAAAAY too into it, which led me to believe I’d find it a bit too teenie-leaning. That being said, I couldn’t sleep on the plane (because I’m always pretty sure the planes I’m on will crash and somehow, I believe that my wakefulness is the factor that will save me), and I wasn’t drawn to any other movie options, so settled to watch it for a lack of other appealing options.

Yeah… So, we landed in Miami and I rushed to the airport bookstore to buy Twilight, which I read for the next flight and epic bus ride to Rio de Janeiro (from Sao Paulo; a journey I should really blog about one day…). I searched high and low for an English version of the second book, New Moon, but it took until I finally found a Chapters in Sao Paulo, by which point I was nearly dying of Twilight fever. Actually, finding that Chapters was awesome for several reasons: I found the next book, so I could start breathing again, and they sold Starbucks coffee. Not that I didn’t love the cafezinho in Brazil—those little coffees are delicious and pack some serious punch—but by 2 weeks into my South American odyssey, I was seriously jonesing for a venti coffee, or even a tall, or, really, anything larger than a thimble.

By this point, I’d shared the first book with my trip roomie, fellow student and good friend, Annie. I believe she watched the movie on the flight back to Miami, while I fervently rewatched it like an addict. I bought the 3rd book in Miami and the 4th shortly after returning. I think I’ve read the series three times now and I don’t want to say how many times I’ve watched the movies. Mostly because I don’t know. But I love them. I’m quite annoyed that the world of Twilight isn’t real. Seriously. I wish I could know that there was fantasy and magic in our world, because the beauty and tragedy of our lives need it. I’ve given serious thought to becoming a vampire (were it a viable option and only in Stephanie Meyer’s vampiric tradition, which is lovely) and after compiling my list of pros and cons (see below), I’m all for it. I’d go for the bite, hands down.


  1. I’d be stunningly, achingly beautiful. Um, yes, please.
  2. I’d shimmer and sparkle. I have to buy makeup to do that now, so this would be a financially prudent move, too.
  3. I could see everything in the world, which would be great, since one life is just too short.
  4. I could go to school forever, if I wanted. Score.


  1. I couldn’t have pets (because they’d be afraid of me). This is pretty much the biggie. It’d take some getting used to, since I love animals so much.

I just saw Breaking Dawn a week ago and now am in a fix because: a) I have to wait a year for the last movie (Breaking Dawn Part II) and b) because I know the saga is ending and it makes me sad.

I have experienced this state of mourning before. Lord of the Rings’ finale sent me into a downward spiral, and Harry Potter? I cried and cried, and not only because Hedwig dies (although even though I knew that was coming, it still upsets me: She was such a good owl.). I’ve done some thinking about my propensity to fall into sadness upon the ending of a story I like and here’s what I’ve got:

  1. I like make believe. Much more so than I like the real world. I always have, too. I had The Mother of All Fairytale books as a child, and I would reread those stories over and over again. Maybe because my childhood was a little, um, different/bumpy, I always loved escaping into my imagination and the world I was so sure was just around the corner from my line of sight. Suspending my disbelief is not a difficult task for me. I don’t just watch a movie as spectator: I’m a participant. I’m in the story, just beyond the camera. The stories become my experiences.
  2. When these stories and their accompanying films are made and complete, I remember just how much I always wanted to be an actor. Acting, and even dancing, was always my love (apart from writing), largely because so much of these art forms include pretending and imagination. In these arts, the worlds I longed for came to life.

So, Twilight ending (even though I know I’ll reread and rewatch them a zillion times) reminds me that I’m not doing the thing I’d always dreamed: I’m not acting. I’m reminded of the safe decisions I’ve made to get to this point, and I’m filled with regret. My life isn’t terrible; it’s very good, actually. I have a good job, a great education, a fabulous husband and friends and family who love me. But deep down, in a place I don’t often let myself look into, I know I didn’t follow my heart. I guess if anything good comes of this sadness, it’s the reminder that I can still try. I think I need to, in order to feel whole. Because I am pretty sure life is too short to ignore your dreams. I have the drive and I believe I have the talent (after all, I was one of the 40 who, out of thousands, made it into performing arts college). What I need is courage.

Leave a Reply