Last week, I discovered that I was not the only 15-year-old who rented The Basketball Diaries just for Leo (despite his somewhat unattractive descent into drugs and bathroom stall prostitution). It seems that in our formative teen years, many of us ladies rented movies in anticipation of hotness and were scarred for life.
My friend K reminisced on Facebook about Marvin’s Room, which I recall watching three times, though Leo played a mentally disturbed rebel who kept pet flies on leashes of his own hair.
O and I realized that long before we became bosom friends, we both rented Born on the Fourth of July because it starred Tom Cruise (back when he was worthy of Tiger Beat). Though he starts out as a handsome young soldier, Tom quickly loses his legs in battle and turns to drink. O and I both gave up on BOTFOJ during the scene where the prostitute crawls over his leg stumps.
And how many of us watched the disaster-at-sea flick White Squall just for the shameless cast of cover boys: Scott Wolf, Jeremy Sisto, Ryan Phillippe, David Lascher (Blossom!), Jason Marsden, Balthazar Getty, Ethan Embry…yes, I did have to look this up on IMDB.
I could go on. But I’ll turn instead to yet another angsty journal entry about Leonardo DiCaprio, though apparently the angst really has nothing to do with him at all.
March 22, 1997 Saturday, 8:30pm
The Beatles sang “All you need is love.” That’s true. But it doesn’t mean you’re going to get it from anyone.
Jessica and I had our Leonardo DiCaprio-Tom Cruise-Scott Wolf-a-Thon last night. We went to see Marvin’s Room at the theater. Leonardo DiCaprio was in it (the movie, I mean). We then came home to watch White Squall (Scott Wolf) and This Boy’s Life (Leonardo DiCaprio).
I think that I am in love with him. Leonardo DiCaprio is the hottest guy on earth…but this really has nothing to do with him.
I go to school every day, come home in the afternoon and do my homework, possibly go to karate (when I’m not too exhausted from weekend ski competitions), then go to bed. Then I start an exact replica of the entire monotonous day again. And again, and again.
I fell asleep in History the other day. We were watching a filmstrip from the ’60s. It was 2 ft x 2 ft, and Mr. M kept stopping it to talk. I was sleeping and actually had a dream.
I hate history class. I think Mr. M has been teaching for 100 years and is stuck in a pretty deep rut. We all despise him.
All of my teachers are idiots who can only come up with one reason we should listen to them: “If you learn this, it will simplify your life.”
Well, maybe I don’t want a simple life. I don’t want to be a geometry teacher (God forbid I disrespect Pythagoras). I can’t stand this any longer. I wish I had a boyfriend. That’s been my motto since 1992 when I started this journal.
I’m a lonely shell. So I watch Leonardo DiCaprio movies and tell myself that there is someone like him out there for me somewhere. I don’t know if I believe it, though.