"The Ruin" of me.

But we're too pretty to die!

I love to be fake scared. I've been a late bloomer to the zeitgeist, but for the past several years, I've been loving some popcorn horror films. So much so that last night I went by myself to a late showing of The Ruins.

I'm not into the Saw oeuvre or whatever Rob Zombie does, which for someone reason seems trashy and tasteless (I know, makes no sense), but I am an enthusiastic fan of horror movies about a group of pretty white kids on a vacation that goes way way awry. (read: Turistas, The Descent, Hostel 1 and 2, and now, The Ruins) Keep 'em coming, I say! As long as there continues to be over-privileged youth, vacation spots and weirdo ways to kill said youth, there will continue to be a place for these films in the world and, of course, my heart.

I love the silly anguish that overcomes me, curling myself up in a little ball, half-shielding my eyes with my hoodie. The suspense! The agony! The knowledge this was completely avoidable had one person not had a harebrained and/or slutty idea! I wring my hands and think about how so-and-so was right. A Cassandra in a sea of Trojans. (Luckily the Cassandra is the one that survives. Prudence usually pays.) I dream up all the ways things could have worked out differently had one key decision been made. I try and figure out what I would do in that situation.

I get the same reflex when I see a live performance of Romeo and Juliet. I always have the urge to yell out to Romeo in the catacombs when he thinks Juliet is dead and tell him not to take the poison. Especially because they are live performers and they could hear me! I swear the desire would overtake me, except, fortunately, the knowledge of ensuing mortification overrides it.

I am not sure why I enjoy these misery fests so much. I'm pretty wimpy and hate actual violence. I chalk it up to the fact that these are so ridiculous, I can get the scare without the scenario feeling remotely real. Plus, my life is cake in comparison to what they're dealing with. Even on my most grim days, at least I'm not lost in a cave nobody knows about, covered in my dead friends' blood, having to deal with this fool:

Hey there, handsome.

It's all so life-affirming!