Thoughts this observation was great:
It's a time capsule to the breathless period when the world could literally end depending on whether your lab partner touched your hand, when every conversation was so agonizing and so thrilling (and the border between the two emotions was so thin), and your heart was bigger and more delicate than it is now, and everything was just so much more.
I remember this period in my life so well. Embarrassingly well. I was in love with practically everything and everyone all the time. I really, really, really wanted an object of my affection that I could lavish lavish lavish with lots of love (not just a little love, mind you-- LOTS of love). That's how I was. Anyone else remember feeling that way?
And this one was interesting as well:
Men feel perfectly comfortable slathering their chests in greasepaint and screaming like half-naked ninnies at football games, but women too often over-explain their passions, apologizing for being too girly or liking something too trashy.
The grown women of "Twilight" will no longer apologize. They will go to those midnight "New Moon" screenings.
But as for telling them how silly they're being, how Edward is not real and neither is Jacob, how their brains are rotting and their sense of reality is being distorted and this obsession is crazy, just crazy? There's really no need.
They already know.
This reminds me of the quote about underlying backlash against vampires sparkling. It's so GIRLY, right? And yet, men going shirtless and with their ridiculous chest painting seem to get away with it. I thought it was an interesting point.
