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I’ve been really lazy lately. The result is that even though I just finished Kate Morton’s The Distant Hours, I’m not blogging on it today—because I am way overdue for a post about something else.

The Hunger Games movie. 

My enthusiasm didn’t quite get me to a midnight showing—for the first time in my life, I actually have a job that I wouldn’t risk sleeping through to crowd a theater full of preteens. I did, however, catch an opening evening viewing with the roomates last Friday, after spending a day at my cubicle listening to the soundtrack and failing to drown my huge adrenaline rush in Excel spreadsheets. (Sidebar: SPOTIFY THAT SHEESH. Trust me—you will not regret. I have it saved in a playlist called ADRENALINE.)

While waiting through three previews featuring vampires (Abraham Lincoln? C’mon, son… I refuse to believe that is more than just a Party Down joke), I realized that, despite being a die-hard Harry Potter fan (Emma Watson is my iPod screensaver), I was actually more excited about THG, precisely because I didn’t love the book as much. Approaching THG movie, I wasn’t bracing myself for inaccuracies, misinterpretations, or disappointments—I was ready to freely embrace the movie because I knew going into it that it would satisfy me. And it did.

I’m not going to touch on the nitpicking and detail mongering that has been sweeping the web over the past week: the unrelenting pace of action, the skimming over of the mockingjay, or, more disturbingly, Jennifer Lawrence’s “curviness” and the implication that Rue’s dark skin made her death less meaningful. Suffice it to say that when Katniss and Peeta raised their clasped hands and swept flames across the the Capitol on their chariot ride, I gasped and stuffed my knuckles in my mouth. And never took them out.

On a lighter and more embarrassing note, I also had a haircut appointment the next day—and took in my roomate’s Entertainment Weekly with Jennifer Lawrence on the cover. “She has hair just like mine!” I gabbled to my friendly stylist. “Do you know how rare that is?” (She didn’t. No one does. Except maybe Jennifer Lawrence.)

So now I proudly sport the Katniss cut, aka curly bangs. I haven’t yet fully embraced it—braids and all—but don’t worry. It’s coming.


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