vampyrotechnics

I chose that name for the wordplay and the irony, of course.  Vampires died long ago when they started sparkling and brooding in the general direction of unremarkable women.

[vampyrotechnics]

I have never connected with a cheesy Pinterest poster more in my entire life. 

[iglovequotes]

http://iglovequotes.net/

[vampyrotechnics]

Let me tell you a story. 

When I was in middle school, I was what someone might call a Twihard.  And I’m not just talking about the own-all-the-Cullen-clan-jewelry kind of Twihard, I’m talking about the kind of Twihard that writes in her journal about her glittery, vampiric husband watching her as she writes.  I was the Twihard that taped pictures of Robert Pattinson everywhere she could, and worked spin-offs of Edward’s character into my backyard imagination-game fanfiction.  Guys, it was bad.  

SO, as one might imagine, when Catherine Hardwicke’s adaptation of Twilight hit the big screen, I was buttery with the pre-pubescent sweat of excitement.  I remember sitting in a packed theatre of the local Regal Cinemas, sandwiched between my twin sister and best friend, ridiculously giddy.  As the lights went down, I was engulfed in an ocean of fantastical, azure-filtered brooding stares, vampire drama, and Kristen Stuart’s perpetual blinking, and I LOVED IT.  THE POETRY. THE PASSION.  THE BEAUTY OF A WORLD THAT COULD EXIST CO-MINGLED WITH OUR VERY OWN.  ALL. ON. SCREEN. 

As I exited the theatre, I replayed the entire movie in my head.  Looking across the parking lot, my eyes met the bed of a truck, and the most insignificant scene of the entire film came to mind (the one where Emmett jumps into the bed of the truck as Edward and Bella make their escape from the ever-dangerous baseball game -- you know), and I simply could not contain my butter.  I leapt from the edge of the sidewalk into the street, screaming “EMMETT JUMP”, and landed, free as the freaking wind.  IT was MY TIME.  

...Until, of course, my momentum caught up with me, and I fell forward onto my knees, the gut-wrenching tear of my jeans echoing throughout the parking lot for all the world to hear.  My sister and friend squawked with laughter in my periphery, but I paid them little attention because as I was there on my knees, I realized a family from church had exited the theatre at the same time, and had witnessed my jump, my fall, and my mile-wide crack-flash.  I was mortified.  

To this day, I wonder how that family is doing.  I can’t recall seeing them again at church in the following years after that incident. But, severely damaged pride aside... at least they got an early screening of my new moon.