Crushworthy.

No matter how much I attempt to intellectualize my love of Daniel Day-Lewis, I must admit that beneath my regard for his incredible acting lies what can only be defined as a school-girl crush. I love his crooked nose, his bemused and slightly ironic smile, his ability to lose himself completely in each character. And tonight, Oscar night, I loved his hoop earrings, longish hair, and soft-spoken acceptance speech.

Yep, it's a celebrity crush.

I'd like to tell you that I have been largely immune to celebrity crushes, but this would be a lie, and I think lying on my blog would be a mistake. So, to maintain the verisimilitude (or at least, the veneer of verisimilitude...mmmwhahahaha) of this text, I will freely admit that I have had several enduring celebrity crushes. Here they are, in roughly chronological order:

Leonardo DiCaprio, circa 1993-5. It became a total cliche to crush on Leo after Titanic hit the theaters in 1998, but before this he appeared on Growing Pains as the adopted brother for the show's final seasons, and he made a few artier films that captured my imagination: What's Eating Gilbert Grape and Baz Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliet. Back in my grunge phase, the perversity of his playing a retard and then Romeo struck me as irresistible. Factor in a greasy bowl cut, pasty, skinny limbs, and sea-blue eyes, and it was a hopeless cause: Leo became my first major celebrity crush.

Christian Bale, 1994-present. When I was twelve, I went to a sleepover at my friend Kate's house with about ten other middle school girls. After eating a shitload of sugar and telling ghost stories in the back yard, we watched a sappy musical put out by Disney called Newsies, which dramatized the plight of young boys who sold newspapers in turn-of-the-century New York. Christian played the main character, a runaway who dressed in cowboy attire and performed a pulse-raising song-and-dance number called "Santa Fe." There were several forces at work here that soon brought about my second celebrity crush: again, the skinny, pasty limbs; the greasy bowl cut; and finally, the sympathetic bad-boy character that enthralled my middle-school self so completely. For a while, Christian faded out of the scene, but I didn't forget him. Now, he's returned with American Psycho, Batman Begins, and The Prestige: all roles that have revived and sustained my crush.

Johnny Depp, 1994-present. One of my friend's older sisters had a giant Johnny Depp-circa- 21 Jump Street poster in her room. I saw it and yet another celebrity crush began. This time, it was the brooding eyes, the bad-boy persona, and the complete and utter weirdness that permeated his image. I watched Benny and Joon, What's Eating Gilbert Grape (again, this time to stare at Johnny), and Edward Scissorhands. When he ditched Winona Ryder and trashed a bunch of hotel rooms, I only loved him more. And now, there are so many more bizarre films to add to the crushworthiness: Ed Wood, The Libertine, Pirates of the Carribean...And so, my celebrity crush on Johnny Depp continues.

Ewan McGregor, 1999. For a brief time, Ewan McGregor ranked #1 on my celebrity crush list. I watched Trainspotting, it sickened me, and then I fell in love with him--even though I had just seen him sitting on a toilet, shitting. The accent, the tight jeans, the skinny/pastiness: it was too much for me. Then, I saw Star Wars Episode I and it was over. Completely over. How could he willingly participate in something like that?!

Daniel Day-Lewis, 2000-present. I took an intro to film class my sophomore year of college, in which I pretended to understand mise-en-scene and cinematography. One of the films we watched in class was My Left Foot, the story of an Irish cripple who also happens to be a total asshole. As the lead actor, I found Daniel irresistable, again because of the greasy hair, the pasty/skinniness, and the sympathetic badass persona. (Yes, when it comes to celebrity crushes, I certainly have a type.) And Daniel added a few roles that took my crush on him to new heights: Bill the Butcher in Gangs of New York and Daniel Plainview in There Will Be Blood. Oh, the creepiness. Oh, the complexity. Oh, the crush.

And now, for the most recent crushes...

John Stewart, 2000-present. I want to marry John Stewart. And it's OK for me to say this, because Mike wants to marry him, too. No, he's not pasty or skinny, and he doesn't have an Irish or Scottish accent, but he has enough irony to make up for it. When he appeared on Crossfire and told off the media, the pride and infatuation Mike and I felt practically made us pass out. Seriously. Despite the rise of Stephen Colbert, John Stewart will always be my favorite joke news anchor.

James McAvoy, 2006-present. Last year, right before Oscar night, Mike and I went to see The Last King of Scotland. That's when I developed a celebrity crush on James. First of all, we have the skinny and pasty factor. Next, we have the sympathetic badass persona. And finally, we have a Scottish accent, and I love me an authentic Scottish accent. This crush DEFINITELY continues, and is, perhaps, stronger than ever.

So, there they are, the most memorable of my celebrity crushes. The sad thing is, I'm probably forgetting a few. I guess that's what happens when you pretend to be the kind of person who doesn't have celebrity crushes.

The Cruelest Month

T. S. Eliot is wrong: February is the cruelest month, not April. I'm quite confidant that even the Hyacinth Girl, if she could reevaluate her situation, would agree.

February is cruel because it hangs like mustard gas in the Pittsburgh air, creating a sickly haze over the buildings and streets. It then infiltrates the body, creating an internal, infernal fog that colludes everything. Everything.

February resembles the cat-like haze in "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Eliot always weighs on my mind in February.

Last year, when February weighed on my mind well into March, I made a list of things to look forward to, so I could chin-up my way through the bleak winter days. The list was marginally effective--effective enough to try it again. So here goes.

1. Possible Spring Break trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains for five days. We'll be staying at a ski resort located in the state park and will be doing little to no skiing. Snow tubing might happen, though, as will hikes through the park. Ah, nature. How vexed you are.

2. Possible Spring Break shopping spree at the Grove City outlet mall. I know: this item is totally lame. But hey, I am a shameless fashionista, and I long for spring attire. Seersucker pants? Check! Cotton sweaters? I hope so! Canvas flats in bright colors? Laaawwwwd, please!

3. Barack Obama's presidential campaign. I can't wait until he kicks Hillary's ass. She sucks. Why must the first woman to run for president be a conservative war hawk in liberal garb? Also, I'm a sucker for Barack's idealism. The Audacity of Hope? Well, I can't help but believe in it, either.

4. Spring flowers. Last fall I planted tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils throughout my garden with the aim to cheer myself up in March. I can't wait to see their yellow, purple, and orange splendor.

5. Hot Metal Faith Community moving to the bar/restaurant across the street. No more being late for church...hopefully...and the opportunity to take a greater part in their social ministries here on the Southside. This will give me the chance to atone for being a Very Mean Person.

uhhh...i think that's it. A modest list, but yet, a satisfying one. Remind me that I said so, okay?