Sports and Gender Politics

I had an interesting conversation with my father the other day, and I never got around to discussing it as I felt I ought. We were discussing male athletes versus female athletes. Specifically, a girl can wrestle all year except in the playoffs. This rule exists because an all boys team won the state championship in girl’s bowling (I think it was bowling anyway--you’ll have to fact check me on that one). Upon hearing this news I said “Well that’s dumb. Why even have boys and girls teams in bowling?”

My dad said whether we should or shouldn’t, the fact remained that the best boy bowlers still bowl better than the best girl bowlers. There are any number of factors that could (and do to some degree) go into this: the boys are stronger, the boys use heavier balls; all together that means the best male bowler and throw with greater speed and force down the lane than the best female bowler. I don’t accept this as a reason to separate the genders, however.

I’m not going to figure out the math, but I have a theory that there is a finite amount of force needed to knock down all ten pins and that force can be reached easily by either a male or female. Assuming all other things are equal--ability to throw straight, etc--strength and speed should cancel out. But then I had this thought: what if the best male bowler is still better than the best female bowler because the best female bowler never competes against the best male bowler?

I believe that while you can achieve a particular level of skill and success based on your own practice, drills, etc, in the end you are only going to be the best if you regularly compete against everyone. Otherwise you are never driven mentally (and probably not physically) to be the best. If girl bowlers played co-ed from high school onward, those that wanted to be competitive with the boys would have to develop the strength, skill, and speed to do so. This might mean training their bodies to use a heavier ball. This might mean engaging in any number of physical activities to propel their body to the level it needs to be. But I think, in bowling at least, this is a completely feasible idea. Obviously with some sports, football, basketball, and probably baseball, a woman just isn’t going to be as competitive as a man--maybe (MAYBE) the right woman with the right training, but they would almost always be a very slight minority.

But could it be that our gender bifurcating has done as much as it can? Could it be in some sports, like bowling and maybe golf, women would become competitive with men if that was their competition all along? I know the arguments; we want to give women an equal opportunity to participate etc. But this wouldn’t be limiting women’s ability to participate. To some degree I think it might limit their ability to continuously keep women competing only with women. Sure, that means that some women won’t be able to succeed as easily as they did when competing only against other women. Sure that means size, speed, and strength would be a problem for many. But it would be no more of a problem for the women than it is for any number of underdeveloped boy freshman.

And what might be achieved by creating co-ed sports where feasible? It would eliminate, possibly, many of the boy vs. girl mentality that seems to dominate since the 70s. It would teach girls honestly and truthfully what it means to compete and succeed, not just amongst other girls, but amongst other human beings. It would teach boys that girls aren’t fragile and breakable any more than boys are, and, quite possibly, help make girls more tough as well.

This little experiment would be a mess in the beginning; for awhile, perhaps for a long time, boys’ teams would dominate. But I think if sports were turned co-ed where possible eventually the integration would present a possibility of healing the gender wars in much the same way racial integration dealt with racism. Things wouldn’t be perfect and they certainly wouldn’t be fixed quickly or easily, but just what might happen if sports could be used to better males and females together instead of separately?

Top Ten Thanks 2009

Last year I did a top ten list of things I was most thankful for, and it ended up being such a pleasurable exercise that I thought I ought to do it again. Drum roll please...

Top Ten Things I Am Most Thankful For in 2009

10. My Parents' Hot Water Heater
It's probably not new at this point; I can't remember exactly when it was bought, but I know when I was little a hot shower in the winter was more like something slightly better than lukewarm. Somewhere along the way, though, they got the sort of hot water heater that approaches the surface temperature of Mercury and I am so very thankful for that.

9. Twilight
Yeah, that's right. I love those stories, and I really love the movies. Perhaps I'm more thankful because the Harry Potter movies are so hit and miss; perhaps I'm blinded by the wolf pack of 8 packs on the screen in front of me. Whatever the reason I like it, and I say thank you to the universe.

8. TV on DVD
I have cable, but it only really shows Judge Judy and Dr. Phil. Thankfully, though, the entertainment industry offers TV on DVD and this means that my roommate, friends, and myself can luxuriate on our newly acquired seating and bond over Sex in the City and CAM ON THE TABLE! (Bones). We also, following in aforementioned roommate's footsteps, now scream "MAKE OUT!" whenever Bones and Booth get within kissing distance of each other. It's the sort of emotional bonding that makes a person thankful to be where they are with the people they are.

7. Memphis Championship BBQ
Revealed to me by the brilliance of a good friend and her husband, my husband-in-law (it's a long story (not really, but it sounds more exciting if I call it a long story)) I now eat the delicious Burnt Ends of Memphis Championship BBQ about once a week. I would feel guilty about that, except that it seems silly to feel guilty over enjoying perfection. I'm just saying.

6. Living Somewhere With Many, Many Movie Theaters
I love movies. This isn't surprising. But what you might not have known, is that I love to go to movies late, late at night. Lucky for me I have a friend that also likes to go to movies after she gets off work at eleven pm; thankfully we get to go to late night movie together. There are days I don't think I would cry if Las Vegas was swallowed up by the sinkhole of damnation that sits below it, but on nights when my insomniac self can't sleep, I'm really happy I live somewhere with late showings.

5. Netlix Instant Watch
This one goes along with #6 in the movie category, but this might be the single greatest invention ever...after indoor plumbing, antibiotics, and adhesive maxi-pads.

4. Not Being Raised by Crazy People
As police bust up the polygamy compounds, I see kids with some really disturbing visions of how the world works, and then rock stars' daughters accuse them of incest. I am quite grateful that I was never abused, ignored, or married off as wife #45 at the age of 9. I think that's a good thing to remember at Thanksgiving.

3. Not Being of Easily Kidnappable Size
Have you seen Taken? I have never been so happy to be fat in my life. Seriously--it might cut my lifespan short and cause any number of health problems, but most likely no one's going to kidnap me and attempt to sell me on the sex slave market. Also, I'm too big for an anaconda to eat, and that means they wouldn't bother stalking me (which they do!). Those are both excellent reasons to say thank you!

2. Never Having to Take Comprehensive Exams Again
I never have to take comprehensive exams again...ever.

1. Shannon (my new nephew)
I know. It's so cute even I threw up in my mouth as I typed it. Doesn't mean it's not true though.

Top 25 Songs

I engaged in this exercise last year, but I never felt like I really sat down and fulfilled my list to my satisfaction. So, in an effort to further procrastinate, I revised the following list to my current mood. Below are the 25 songs that I would chose if I could only listen to them for the rest of my life. I suppose you could call it my top 25. In order to narrow my list down I limited myself to one song per band/composer--at times that was the most difficult part of the process. Also, they are arranged with being played in mind, not necessarily in order of preference. The first disc would break after the 1812 Overture and the second disc would start at More Than a Feeling. I invite everyone to who hasn’t done this to do so; it’s fun and surprisingly difficult.

1. Don’t Stop Believing’ -- Journey
2. If I Could Turn Back Time -- Cher
3. Drift Away -- Dobie Gray
4. Jupiter from The Planets -- Holst
5. Battle Hymn of the Republic -- Mormon Tabernacle Choir
6. Bohemian Rhapsody -- Queen
7. Pennies from Heaven -- Louis Armstrong
8. Mack the Knife -- Bobby Darin
9. I Want You Back -- Jackson 5
10. Dare -- Stan Bush
11. Hysteria -- Muse
12. 1812 Overture -- Tchaikovsky
13. More Than A Feeling -- Boston
14. Jurassic Park (Theme) -- John Williams
15. Lightning Crashes -- Live
16. Man in the Mirror -- Michael Jackson
17. Defying Gravity -- Wicked
18. Joshua -- Dolly Parton
19. Life is a Highway -- Tom Cochrane
20. Mamma Was A Looker -- Garth Brooks
21. Elvira -- The Oak Ridge Boys
22. Suspicious Minds -- Elvis
23. I’m Shipping Up To Boston -- Drop Kick Murphy’s
24. Sweet Child O’ Mine -- Guns ‘N Roses
25. William Tell Overture -- Rossini

New Moon or How I Learned to Handle Inappropriate Teenage Werewolf Attraction

Don’t try to act surprise. You all knew it was coming. I’ve never hid my Twilight love, though perhaps there were those that hoped feverishly I was just pretending. I wasn’t.

New Moon was, quite literally, everything I hoped it would be. There were a few things here and there that I wished might have been more explicated, of course, but overall it was a better made movie than the first one and carried far fewer cringe-inducing moments. There were no random monkey references that were both incongruous and slightly pornographic; there no were no bad animal metaphors that made you want to eat a rack of lamb and shoot a lion. But there was an exceptional amount of shirtless werewolf--often in the rain. I can’t even explain how strongly I feel that was an excellent directorial decision.

Watching this film alongside a theatre full of teenage girls was a humbling experience. For example, the first time each male lead appeared on scream a general “Wooo!” went up from the crowd in the way only teenage girls can. At first I thought I would mock them--I couldn’t possibly allow it to be believed that I might ever partake in such silliness. But as the movie continued I realized that while I might mock them outwardly, the sad fact was the teenagers behind me were screaming the reactions I was having in my own head. It was like meta-Twilight. You sit and watch the film quietly, but every strong thought and/or emotion that passes through you is rerouted through the voices of 300 others who express it with both volume and sincerity. I could pretend I was above it all, but that would be a lie and my dad taught me not to lie.

But all of this is an excuse to avoid what I feel should be addressed: my general lack of sympathy for Jacob’s teenage boy angst and Bella’s continued stupidity with Jacob’s feelings. First, Jacob’s teenage boy angst. He really loves her; she really loves someone else. That hurts. I get it and I’m over it. His rage at her for her refusal to see/consider/explore why Jacob is better for her really wears on me. Not to mention, I feel very strongly that when your best friend is in love with someone else, you know they’re in love with someone else, and they tell you at every opportunity they’re in love with someone else, you sort of lose the sympathy vote when you get angry because (SHOCKING) they’re in love with someone else. It’s not like Jacob can’t say he didn’t see it coming.

But yes--all of his heartbroken moping (especially when paired with aforementioned werewolf wardrobe) can make a person feel kindly towards him. However--and this is definitely I sign of my soulness--I’m over it. You have a short window when you think maybe, possibly, there might be a chance that the person you love is no longer going to be with the person they love and so might love you, and when that all falls a part it could take a moment to bounce back from it. I respect the need to go mope in the woods for a few hours following that. It’s a heartbreak. I have two more movies, however, to sit through his repeated anger at Bella for not loving him back when she never loved him, never said she loved him, and only said, in fact, that she could/would never love him. The girl was pretty dang clear. I have to prepare myself for this annoyance now or the teenage girls aren’t going to so much be spouting my inner monologue so much as shocked at an adult’s reaction to teenage stupidity and their strongly held belief that a boy is allowed to emotionally abuse you if you break his heart.

I acknowledge Bella does complicate the situation as well. When you break a boy’s heart what you don’t keep trying to explain to him is that you really, honestly, truly do love him...just not like that. All he’s gonna hear is “I love you” and the really important part that comes after is carried away on sound waves that never find a home. Her perpetual need to deny Jacob his moping is also irritating; his heart is broken, let the boy go. But no, she’s gotta keep him close for maximum dramatic possibilities.

In the end, the conclusion that must be drawn from all of this is that I will never write books as exciting as Twilight. My story would go as follows: girl meets vampire. Vampire and girl have problems working out relationship. Girl’s best friend steps in. Vampire comes back. Girl breaks vampire’s face before they make up through excessive making out. Girl’s best friend gets jealous. Girl tells best friend to get over it. Best friend runs off and mopes. Girl and vampire live fairly happily for some exceptional amount of time that seems like forever. Best friend realizes stupidity and returns for the occasional cup of coffee. The end.

There’s just not nearly enough angst there for a best-seller.

Don’t Be A Funsucker!

This time MSN has gone too far. There’s no joy they won’t deny. There’s no pleasure they won’t investigate. There’s no life they won’t destroy.

They’re trying to take away my movie theatre popcorn.

I know; it’s shocking. I too had to take a moment to collect myself, to remember what it is I love about going to movies. The darkness, the big comfy chairs, the ability to lose one’s self in the fantasy of celluloid—most importantly, though, the chance to engage in socially approved physical inactivity for between 1 ½ -- 2 hours while eating corn popped in oil, slathered in butter, and sprinkled with salt. Perhaps with a Bunchacrunch by a my side.

But these Tapeworms of Fun don’t want to let us have that. It’s not enough they want to tax our Little Debbie and take away our Soda Pop. It’s not enough that they make us feel self conscious on the beach, on the plane, or in the grocery store (where we’re buying the over-taxed Little Debbie). No, now they want to make us feel guilty about our popcorn. I won’t have it! I will not let them take this from me!

YOU CANNOT HAVE THE POPCORN!

I don’t care if it contains the caloric count of Cambodia’s daily intake. I don’t care if it stops up my heart valves and renders me paralyzed and drooling by the age of 65. I won’t give it up and if they try to make me I will fight. I will call for revolution. I will find the energy not only to get up off the couch, but to rally the troops and lead us all to victory.

You aren’t scared right now because you think we’ll all run out of breath before our revolution really takes off. You’re not wrong. But where stamina and health abandon us sheer persistence will win out. Have you ever seen what happens when you stand between a movie lover and their popcorn? Have you ever seen the carnage left behind when the hedonistic are denied their impulse gratification? It’s mass chaos people. It’s a Dionysian festival of carnage and slaughter topped off with the victorious ceremony of eating junk food and drinking large quantities of alcoholic beverages.

Neither calories, nor fat, nor salmonella will keep us from our small pleasures. Not broken joints, quadruple by-passes, or diabetes will make us put the popcorn down. Your scare tactics are no good here. Your hate rhetoric has no home in our hearts. We will not let you take what is most sacred to our movie going experience and tarnish it with your research.

You are the kid that wouldn’t go swimming because the water wasn’t chlorinated. You are the kid that never ate raw eggs. You are adult that offers only pure fruit juice and water to those in your household alongside organic vegan foods cooked no higher than 108 degrees. Your love is a plastic bag over our face suffocating the joy and pleasure in our existence. You are the funsucker of life.

We are immune to your guilt. LONG LIVE THE POPCORN!


http://health.msn.com/health-topics/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100249578>1=31057

Othello or How I Learned to Hate Love

I should probably start by saying I don’t hate love. Really--I love love. Who doesn’t? But watching Oliver Parker’s film adaptation caused the same rage in me that reading the play did. What a ridiculous tragedy. I say this knowing that many people love it and have written truly brilliant things about it, but for me I find nothing tragic in Othello. I never have been able to find tragedy in people’s inability to handle life. Really, though, if someone is capable of killing you because of supposed infidelity is that tragic? Are blatant flaws of humanity tragic? I feel it accords them too much honor or prestige to label them tragic.

Tragedy is supposed to invoke catharsis; that might be the only thing Aristotle and I agree on. Good tragedy, or what I define as good tragedy, should present some aspect of life that is unavoidable and horrible I feel. There should be a level of inevitability to it. There is nothing inevitable about Othello except maybe that if you marry because of what you think someone is you will inevitably find sorrow in the realization of who they are. What I mean by that is, when we love someone for the object we have created out of them in our mind when their agency and humanity presents itself we will have no recourse for the processing or handling of that. But I don’t find that tragic.

Lawrence Fishburne plays Othello in this movie and he does a marvelous job of it. I found the acting moving and the adaptation truthful. It is a beautiful film. But I was enraged by the end. Desdemona is Othello’s thing, she isn’t a woman to him but a pretty pretty who is his. He would rather she die than be possessed by any other man. Desdemona obviously took issue with that, but I find her trust and acquiescence to his rage also infuriating. In her defense I don’t think she could have swayed him; the passion with which Othello took to the idea of her infidelity wasn’t something she could fight against.

But is jealous rage tragic? Does extreme human failing count as tragedy? Certainly in the most recent century it seems we’ve gone this way; the normal man, the average person who is destroyed by life or rendered inert by circumstance and either wastes away or destroys everything around them. I don’t know that I honestly consider that tragic. Or, rather, I might consider it tragic if the characters existence was so stymied as to be inescapable. But I don’t feel that Othello’s is. Most of Shakespeare’s love tragedies seem to revolve around our inability to get outside ourselves and I can see the argument for why that is tragic; we are our own worst enemy and all of that. But can we even call what Othello feels for Desdemona love? Should we?

On the one hand I’m moved to say yes. Love does not always present itself in healthy, safe ways. Looking under the more destructive versions of love then it could certainly be said that Othello very much loves Desdemona and it is precisely that love which kills her. It could also be taken that the play presents a particularly powerful commentary on the varied nature of love and why people should be wary and self-aware of what they consider love. Feeling powerfully does not, by default, make what you feel a good thing. I can accept that as a reason for why we continue to read this play and should discuss it.

But does that make it tragic? That’s the word that I think I might take issue with. I think something must be more than sad for it to be tragic; I think something ought to be more than awful as well. And on the surface Othello does present something larger than life and more powerful; it also provides catharsis in regards to sketchy love experiences, but all of these experiences weren’t brought about by fate or lack of knowledge. Perhaps the problem is that I don’t find Othello particularly noble either in his goodness or his faults. In order for me to label a character’s suffering tragic I need to feel like they possess some level of nobility, something that raises them above simply having a really bad day.

We know that Othello is a good general and we know that his men love him. But the speed with which he turns on Cassio and then Desdemona--is that the quality of a noble man? Sure you could say his jealousy is his tragic flaw, but jealousy isn’t something self contained like pride. Jealousy encompasses a whole host of other characteristics like trust, pride, ownership, and love. Othello’s jealousy, therefore, seems to me more symptomatic of larger issues rather than one characteristic he is powerless against.

The long and short of this is that I hate tragic love stories. Mostly I just want to say get over yourself already. I know--that kind of shows I’m dead inside. But...if that means I never get strangled to death by my husband I’m kind of okay with that.

Why Can’t The World Just Recognize My Brilliance?

So there’s a cliché somewhere about how anything worth having is worth fighting for...or struggling for...or being mildly inconvenienced for. Something like that. My point is, however, I think that’s a load of hooey. You know that makes something sweeter? It being easy.

We’re not supposed to talk about these things; we tell our kids “crime doesn’t pay” and “hard work makes the rewards more worthwhile” but it’s all a lie. You know when crime doesn’t pay? When you get caught. You know why a cold drink tastes better after working outside in the hot summer sun than it does after you’ve sat on the couch all day? Because you’re tired and dehydrated. Clichés are what we use to convince ourselves that playing by the rules is worth it.

Now, before you go and get worried I’ve slipped into some sort of uber-cynical coma understand that my outlook isn’t any different today than it was a week ago, but as I prepare to submit an article for publication (and I have to submit a hard copy which seems so 1999--don’t you agree?) I realize that my life would be better if I could just say “World--here is my brilliant article! Take it and love it!” and the World would reply, “Indeed yes. I like what you’ve done here.”

The Suzy Sunshines of the world would say, “you don’t really want that. It feels better when you’ve fought for publication and really worked for it.” I hate the Suzy Sunshines. They’re completely and utterly wrong. You know what feels better? Having my article accepted. The difference in emotion between the first submission and the tenth one happens because after about the third rejection my soul starts to wither and die, and when it finally gets accepted the healing process begins. But that doesn’t make the acceptance sweeter; it just makes it necessary for me not to turn into an uber-cynical crazy person. I now know why so many professors have crazy hair, crazy eyes, and crazy clothes. This life will drive you crazy.

But my latest round of “look at me, I have something to offer the world” has me irritated with all the people that try to make you feel better. You know who tries to make you feel better by offering anecdotes about how your pain and suffering is worthwhile? People who don’t have pain and suffering. Seriously, has anyone whose ever suffered a situation offered some trite piece of advice about how it’s good for you? No. A person whose lived through the situation says, “Yeah...that totally sucks. Nothing for it, but it totally sucks.” I appreciate that person. There’s no silver lining there. No clichés designed to convince you that annoyances, poverty, and lack of job will make you a “better person” in the end. You know what makes me a better person? Being independently wealthy; that’ll make me a better person.

And all of this raises an interesting existential question: do we become compassionate, caring, sympathetic people because we suffer, or if we didn’t suffer would there be no need to be compassionate, caring, sympathetic people? That’s an interesting one. We assume the suffering is good because it teaches you all manner of things about morality and ethics, but what if our consideration for fellow human beings is only necessary because fellow human beings suffer so much? This is, of course, a mute point as suffering (used here to include everything from annoying one floor elevator riders to people with a life like Job’s) isn’t going anywhere. But I find myself short tempered with the very puritanical viewpoint of suffering as good for the soul.

For example, what happens when you recognize the necessity or inevitability of something, i.e. the world has yet to understand my brilliance and so getting a job is going to be difficult, but don’t attempt to view it as a positive thing? What if it is simply viewed as a course of existence, horrible or annoying, and accepted as inevitable? Does it make sense what I’m saying here? I think it makes more sense to approach things that way. At least then there wouldn’t be any Suzy Sunshines trying to convince me that a) it’ll all be okay (cause sometimes it’s not and I get irritated when people just assume it will be) and b) that it’s good for me. A glass of orange juice is good for me. Perpetually high blood pressure due to stress that is occasionally relieved by a small victory is not good for me.

Thank you. I feel better now. Time to go to the post office and send this thing off so one more person can inform me I’m not good enough. But that’s okay--I totally know more about Star Wars, Star Trek, and Twilight then them. We must take our victories when they come.

The 10 Goofiest Moments from Twilight

I can’t believe what I’m about to do. In fact, I’m so ashamed of myself that I might not be able to show my face in public...at least not until November 20th when we all know what movie I’ll be attending. But a friend just finished Twilight and got addicted and now we’re watching the movie so I thought hey, I should do a little something about this not so hidden obsession of mine. Because I can’t sincerely admit to my Twilight love, however, I offer this list instead. The top ten goofiest, lamest, and flat out bad moments from the movie Twilight. New Moon is going to prompt the top ten moments when I go to hell for lusting after men too young for me, but that’s another day.

10. You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.
It’s hot in theory; when I read the line I thought to myself, “self, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if someone said that to you.” But upon further reflection I have to take a minute for the sheer teenage silliness embedded in this sentiment. First, it’s only hot for someone to be addicted to you when you’re too immature to realize the implications of that. Second (and this one might be the most important) if you drive someone into a nearly uncontrollable state of lust and violence that could end badly for you both.

9. Every time the vampires are supposed to react.
I don’t know what Catherine Hardwicke was thinking in the editing room, but for creatures that are supposed to be “super fast” their reaction times are a lot more like casual head turns. Seriously--every time there is supposed to be a snap reaction it’s a little bit like watching Dopey Dwarf turn his head.

8. The Make Up
This isn’t a goofy moment, but it deserves to be mentioned. Please, please, please--PLEASE--can someone promise that in New Moon the vampires won’t all be wearing “Sassy Red” lipstick?

7. Bella’s Freak Out
At the end of the movie Edward says Bella should move to Florida and Bella freaks out, ending said freak out with “you just can’t say things like that to me.” Nothing like a girlfriend who has a panic attack when you express your concern to promote good communication. A young man in the theater said “she crazy!” I think that sums up this moment adequately.

6. The Lion-Lamb Fiasco
The line goes like this: “So the lion fell in love with the lamb.” “What a stupid lamb.” “What a sick sado-masochistic lion.” Only teenage love takes metaphor and turn it into something so awfully toxic.

5. Rosalie’s Oddly Porno “Monkey Man” Comment
After Emmett catches a baseball Rosalie says in her best porn voice “my monkey man.” It makes a person feel dirty, uncomfortable, and turned off simultaneously. Rosalie’s a bitch, but do we really have to turn her an Emmett into some sort of sexually aberrant couple?

4. Spider Monkey Abuse
Edward is hot. I mean Edward is HOT. And I can say that cause he’s really 90 so I’m not going to hell for inappropriate attraction. However, when he says “hold on spider monkey” it’s like the heroin moment; suddenly a character that is primarily defined by his hotness becomes weird, awkward, and disturbingly not hot. I would guess the reason is because it is impossible, against the laws of nature impossible, to be hot while saying “hold on tight spider monkey.” Simply can’t be done.

3. Edward’s Wardrobe
Who dressed him like it was 1985? I know the 80’s are back. I cry about it every night before sleep. But seriously; skinny pants are not hot, and the only thing that makes them even less hot is an awful gray jacket from 1988.

2. Edward and James’ Snarling Match
Nothing says “I’m a badass vampire who is going to rip you apart” like opening your mouth and fo-snarling in someone’s face. Honestly--who looked at that shot and thought to herself, “this is the best way I can show the violence and tension of this moment”? Oh I know, the same person that thought “hold on tight spider monkey” and “my monkey man” was hot. Apparently there is some sketchy animal love in Catherine Hardwicke’s subconscious.

1. Bella’s Belief that She is Somehow Going to Save Her Mom
This is my biggest gripe with the book and movie. James, the bad vampire, says come alone or I kill your mom. And she does it?! Has Bella never played a strategy game?! You think a dude that eats people is going to let your mom go after he kills you?! Really? Bella totally deserves to die in that moment. If a vampire tried to lure you away from your only defense you just say no!