The Five Hottest Fictional Men

Ladies, there ain't no man like a fictional man. I spent all day editing and switching things around for this list. You know, it had the unexpected side effect of making me feel really okay with my state of perpetual singleness, because I'm having trouble imagining the guy who could match up to the standards set by these beautiful men, and who wants to settle anyway? Haha.

Disclaimer: No pirates appear on this list, because if I had included them the whole entry would be pirates. This way y'all get some variety, and I don't have to rank my favorite people. Because, holy cow, pirates.

Anyway, without any further ado, Rebecca's Five Hottest Fictional Men

1. Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

I thought about doing a countdown list, Letterman style, but I just could not wait to rave about my One True Love. Help, I've fallen for Spike and I can't get up. But while you're out summoning help can you just let me watch Spike footage? On second thought, don't bother going for help. I'm good. LEAVE.

How do I explain Spike? Words fail miserably. He is flawless. He's a vicious, violent vampire who has a sarcastic remark for everyone and every situation. He is INCREDIBLY hot, and that's coming from a girl who doesn't like blonde men. But LOOK at him! Those cheekbones....mmm. His wicked sense of humor and bad-boy presence....I just can't handle him. He says what he wants, and it is both hilarious and true. Spike values himself. He is not a good guy. What he is is sexy, side-splittingly funny, witty, inconveniently honest, ruthless, and SO PERFECT. He hates to be mocked, but doesn't take himself or anyone else seriously. All of his quotes are perfect. All of them. I'm desperately in love with him, and a wee bit obsessed. And did I mention that I find him rather fetching?


2. The Doctor (Doctor Who)

There have been eleven regenerations of the Doctor so far (and Peter Capaldi was just announced as the actor who will be playing the Twelfth Doctor), but I've only seen Nine, Ten, and Eleven. Ten is my favorite, but he's only a hair's breadth above Nine.

The Doctor is a hero. He saves the day, at least as much as he can. His different regenerations have their own unique quirks, who are great in their own ways, but he counts as one entry, because I simply love the Doctor. Just, him. His goodness, his curiosity, his willing to put others before himself. He is secretly sad, sometimes silly, and endlessly curious. He is a lover (Doctor/Rose forever) and a fighter and a wanderer. He's been called the Oncoming Storm, the Lonely God, and the last of the Time Lords. I want to climb inside in the T.A.R.D.I.S. and run away through time and space with him.


 3. Dustfinger (Inkheart)

I don't have a picture of Dustfinger, because he's from a book, and the film version doesn't do him justice (although I love Paul Bettany!) In my head he's tall, slender, and pale. His hair is thick, and a shade somewhere between brown and auburn. His eyes are sad and his fingers are nimble. That's as good a description as I can give.

Dustfinger comes from a book within a book (a book that I definitely recommend).  He was my first literary crush, and I never get tired of him. He's a fire eater (it's pretty much what it sounds like), and he's got experience traveling in and out of books. Would that I could. Dustfinger is slow to trust and quick to run. He is in love with a married woman. He is sensitive and scarred, both physically and emotionally, and I can't explain what I find so wonderful about him. He's so clever-- he considers himself a coward, but he's really very brave when someone he cares about is in danger. And although I can't say why, he is wonderful.


4. Aragorn (Lord of the Rings)

If you're waiting for a knight in shining armor character to make an appearance, this is the closest there's going to be. Probably the closest to a Prince Charming too, especially since he's royalty.

The True King of Gondor, Strider, the Dúnedain-- Aragorn answers to many names. I don't think anyone could name them all, maybe not even himself. He is a taciturn warrior. In addition to intimidating brooding, he is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He usually keeps his emotions private. He thinks of himself last, when he bothers to think of himself at all. He would die for a cause he deems worthy without a second thought. And if you want a rousing speech, Aragorn's your man.


5. Han Solo (Star Wars)

I think I've been attracted to Han Solo since.....forever. I've always loved him. Who can resist his one-liners and his devil-may-care attitude? He flies the freaking Millennium Falcon-- what a chick magnet!

He's a scoundrel, but they love him. Breaks a new heart every day. He's a scoundrel, but I adore him, and I wish that he would travel my way. He's a cynical smuggler who lives in a galaxy far, far away. He's in it for the money, or that's what he'd like you to believe. He's got a heart of gold, though, however, and not the monetary kind. Sarcastic and ready with a quip, with charm to spare. Heck, the man positively drips charm. He doesn't exactly express emotion well, but he's great in a tight spot. And very easy on the eyes.


Honorable mention: Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights) and Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice). Two classic literary men, polar opposites, extremely attractive.

This post was so much fun to write. What a hard life, googling pictures of g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s men. ;)

On Auditions

As the wonderful Joni Waldrop once said, "The only thing worse than Azkaban is waiting for a cast list to go up." Everything about the audition process is hellish. I hate auditions-- sixteen to thirty-two bars to show why you are good enough. Different enough. Talented enough. Deciding to even audition for a show, picking the right song, and knowing what kind of small talk to make with the director are things that don't come super easily to me.

Callbacks aren't much better. You can see all your competition right there, and you just want to be as good as them. Dancing isn't exactly my best friend-- it takes me a while to get choreography down. When I do, it's fine, but when you have ten minutes and you know that whether or not you get in the show depends on if you can dance it or not.....well, it isn't exactly a walk in the park.

As is probably obvious, I auditioned for a show over the weekend. I don't know how it went. Usually I either feel pretty dang positive or I think, "Well, I'd better start looking again, cuz that show ain't happenin'." But after this callback (in which we were told that only fifty percent of us will be cast) I honestly don't know. I don't know. And that's the worst. The cast list should be posted today, but it could be hours and hours. Great.

My thought process after seventy-five, eighty percent of auditions-- the Not Completely Horrible ones--  is always the same. Part of you thinks you nail it and they have no choice but to cast you. Another bracing for disappointment and and pointing out the vast amount of talent you were up against. In some ways you are already falling in love with the show and yet you are also preparing for the next audition. Your pep talk is ready, but you are terrified of needing it. Your name is on the program. Your name will never be on anything again. They loved you. They were just being polite. Don't worry. Try again and don't give up. It doesn't matter.

Yes, it does.

Memory, all alone in the moonlight....

Don't you love it when your sleep schedule gets really and thoroughly screwed up?

Yeah, me too. It's always a good time.

Lately I've been shotgunning books like there's no tomorrow (I've read three to completion in the last twenty-four hours), and I'm not exactly sure why. It's true that I'm not in a show right now (even though I thought I was-- long story), but I haven't read this much volume wise since probably high school. I blame the excellent documentary I watched a few weeks ago about our memories. It was narrated by John Cleese, which is a good thing. Wait, no, strike that out. John Cleese narrated the other documentary that I watched, the one about the human face. That's an example of what I'm afraid of-- memory loss. This documentary said that memory loss begins as early as twenty-seven, and that's only six years away for me.

I can understand why our bodies decline, age, and generally start having problems. They are like vehicles which are to be worn out in living. But to think that my mind will also age and decay acutely terrifies me. I have always been a bookworm, a lover of trivia, someone who is generally excited by education and new ideas. To think that I may lose these traits and/or my grasp on reality.....I don't want to think about that.

I think that my recent craving to read everything I can get my hands on is me trying to deal with this. Maybe if I can just cram all these stories and knowledge into my head, I won't lose them. Finders, keepers, right? I logically know that this isn't true, but one must cope somehow. It's years and years from now that I'll actually have to worry about losing my memory, but my memories are what me, well, me. And books having always been a huge part of who I am.

So that's fun. Hopefully I get distracted by some other fear soon, one more immediate and easier to reassure myself about. Now where did I leave my purse.....?


Books I've read since the beginning of July:
-The Return of the King (JRR Tolkien)
-The Color Purple (Alice Walker)
-Murder on the Links (Agatha Christie)
-The Sundance Kid (Donna Ernst)
-The Whole Five Feet (Christopher Beha)
-John Brown's Spy (Steven Lubot)
-Never Have Your Dog Stuffed (Alan Alda)
-The Book of Happy Endings (Elise Valmorbida)
-Buyology (Martin Lindstrom)

Chance

Most days end about how you thought they would. A few small deviations, an encounter with a friend, an odd conversation, or an unexpected mood change are about all you can really expect to vary. But every now again come the days that are Different. Big changes are in the air, changes that you set in motion with tiny choices, and now you are about to be startled with what life has in store for you. Something happens that you had not even considered a possibility twenty-four hours ago. Call it luck or chance or tender mercies or the element of surprise, but it is nice to be reminded that I am subject to twists I haven't foreseen. Otherwise my life would become frightfully dull. Unanticipated events are simultaneously stressful and exciting. I had no idea I would be asked to join the Utah Repertory Theatre's cast of Carousel, but last night I was. We'll see where this road leads. I'm so glad I get to finish off this summer with a show. It's joltingly pleasant to be confronted with personal plot devices that are completely out of the blue. It's good to have plans, but thank goodness for that "roll of the dice" factor.

"There is one thing which gives radiance to everything. It is the idea of something around the corner." -G.K. Chesterton

A Few Good Books

Here is what I want to talk about today: Books. Books. Books.

Sometimes I forget just how much of a reader soul I have, but I am always reminded. Learning things, turning pages, caring about characters who seem so much more than fictional-- I can't live without it. And I get scared of getting swamped with school and homework again and not having much leisure time, because the last twenty-four hours have been ones of literary joy.

I shotgunned The ABC Mysteries by Agatha Christie yesterday afternoon. I had never read an Agatha Christie book before, a fact which will continue to be remedied now. AHHHHH. I can’t. It’s a variation of my weird reverse hipster complex that I haven't read her before-- even though I preach about the importance of everyone reading classics I’m still surprised when an author I haven’t personally read before turns out to be perfection. I require more Poirot in my life. He made a Sherlock Holmes reference, which made me laugh.

Then I went to the library and found some random books that caught my interest and checked out. Happened to look at one of the display tables as I headed out. I saw Okay For Now by Gary D. Schmidt and was overcome by happiness. Gary Schmidt is the most incredible YA writer I’ve ever read. I grabbed the book and turned around. Usually once I check out that’s it for the day, anything else that looks good gets stuck on my reading list. But for a Gary Schmidt book I would have walked back to the library to check it out. I read that in its entirety last night. INCREDIBLE. How does he even write like that? They're so serious, but so funny and painfully true at the same time. 

Now I've started The Story of Charlotte's Web, which is about E.B. White. After that a biography of Judy Garland is on the nightstand as well as another Agatha Christie mystery.

Reading is life.

Thoughts on Surgery

My littlest brother, Joshua, was born with a condition called tricuspid atresia. More information on that can be found at this link: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002100/. He has already had two surgeries, one at nine days, the second at six months. On July 31 he will go in for what should be the last. It's called the Fontan Procedure.

It's been three years since I last felt this kind of desperate, emotional stress. I always knew that he would need another surgery, but I had forgotten the fear that comes with it. It is constantly at the back of my mind, whispering of the fragility of life.

He is so small. He is so innocent. He is so full of joy and everything that is good. He loves parrots and trucks and Buzz Lightyear. Why him?

Logically I know there is nothing I can do, but my heart weeps to aid him. I want to lie down on the operating table and let them cut open my chest. Leave his alone. Let me feel the pain, let him be healed.

He is not afraid. He doesn't understand what is risked, what is out of necessity coming. I do, and I am. I am too afraid to pace, too frightened to cry. Every prayer I offer is pleading and urgent and focused. "Bless Joshua. Bless Joshua. Lord, bless Joshua." Over and over.

The doctors stand ready to do battle with my brother's heart, wielding their tools like swords against the grasping fingers of Death. I want a way to offer myself, to turn to that cold, black figure and tell him, "I willingly go with you. He is not yours. He will stay and laugh and grow. Take me."

If I die, let me die. Let him live. Bring him home. Bring him home. Bring him home.

We have another month yet. And I have faith in both the skill of the surgeons and the wisdom of my Father and His plan. But it is hard, and I am afraid.

On False Hopes

The scene: Outside my seminary class, junior year of high school

"Eric told me to tell you he's thinking of asking you to the prom."
This was surprising. I didn't expect anyone to invite me and here was Drew telling me that my crush had me on his list. I skipped down the hall on my way to class that day.
Eric didn't ask me to prom. In fact, he didn't even talk to me at the dance.

The scene: The rec room in my dorm, my freshman year of college
"What about Allison?" I asked Freddy. "I was sure you liked her." He sat on the couch next to me, arm around my shoulder.
"I can tell when things are going better with somebody else," he said, giving my hand a squeeze. I was completely surprised by his reciprocation, and it was glorious.
The next day he told me we were "too different." Two weeks later he was dating Allison.

The scene: My house, my birthday
"Steve said he's definitely driving down for cake tonight!" my roommate gushed. She had set us up a few months earlier and knew this news would excite me.
He didn't drive down for cake that night. It's such a small thing, but it mattered to me.

------------------------
"How do you ignore all the witches? All the curses? All the wolves, all the lies, the false hopes, the goodbyes, the reverses? All the wondering what even worse is still in store?"
"No More"-- Into the Woods

I'd much rather be completely ignored or treated with nothing more than friendly civility than get my hopes up that someone is thinking of me and then realize that I was being foolish. I've fallen for a lot of guys over the years, and I'm pretty skilled at recognizing when somebody isn't interested. But when all he throws me is a tangled knot of mixed signals I start punching pillows and going on long walks trying to figure things out.

There's this boy. (Isn't there always?) The difference is that this one has continued to pay attention to me when he doesn't have to. And he makes my heart do this weird fluttery dance and I have to pace around in circles for a few minutes to calm down. He hasn't asked for my number. He hasn't asked me out. I don't know if he ever will. But he fills me up with hope that maybe, just maybe, it's my turn. But if it's not going to be me, if it's going to be Virginia or Leah or whoever, then I wish he'd just skip straight to that step.

My emotions run wild and to extreme ends of the spectrum, and I wish they'd not invest themselves without my permission. My dating resume doesn't need another experience of falling for somebody that only ever had me in the friendzone. Caring is the first step towards crying, and heaven knows my pillowcases have had enough mascara stains.

"Second best can be worse than not-in-the-running."
The View from Saturday (by E.L. Koningsburg)

**Names have been changed to my old code names. In fact, I'm sad I don't have a tragic story to tell about Bartholomew, just because Bartholomew is my favorite of all my past code names. Seriously-- Bartholomew! How great is that?**