Damn you, Hollywood. You ruined one of my favorite books, The Rules of Attraction. The film wreaks of Hollywood's pretentious and failing effort to make filth and human depravity into art. Who are these characters, so interesting and life-like in print, who are now vapid and bland on screen? Why should I spend two hours watching them screw, snort and make Kubrick-esque faces at one another? If I never make it to Hollywood, at least I'll have the satisfaction of saying I never appeared in a bad movie. On another note, Red Dragon is a spectacle to behold. Emily Watson is brilliant, and the film didn't regress to overused shock methods to make the audience squirm.

But now I'm back at home, away from my cinematic oasis. I'm back to the reality that I live at home, my job's a joke, I'm single, and I can't seem to save money. I'm not depressed, just frustrated. The so-called "best" years of my life elude me, and I can't help but wonder why I've always been in such a hurry to grow up. I'm excited and thankful that I have the intelligence and independence to make my own decisions about my future; I just wish I'd hurry up and make them.