I don’t care about Star Wars. It’s not because I’m a communist (it sounds ok, in theory), or a feminist (although I am one), or a pacifist (I try to be but I yell too much). It’s just that I’ve never been much of a movie person and I’m not into space or war. Certainly, I have a few movies memorized- like Back To The Future, Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Clueless, True Romance, and Reality Bites– but that’s less a function of my love for film (I’d rather read a book), and more a function of having owned them on VHS. Therefore, I watched them more times than any human should ever watch a movie.

My freshman year of college, my dreamy R.A. arranged a dorm outing to see the release of whatever part of Star Wars was released in 1997. I went because everyone else was going. It was as legitimate a motivation as any, as far as my younger self was concerned. I’m sure my warm feelings toward movie popcorn and the R.A. played played a part, too. After the movie, everyone said they loved it. I didn’t say much. I was trying to navigate the murky social stratosphere of college, and instinct told me not to stand out. I spent most of my Friday nights pretending to like cheap beer and drinking way too much of it, in an attempt to get the attention of boys I thought I was supposed to care about.

I wish I could tell my 18 year-old self to forget about Star Wars and stay home. I would have told her not to walk to any frat parties in the freezing cold without a coat (because if you had a coat you had to find a place to put said coat once you got to the party, so we didn’t wear coats to parties, ever). I would have told her to catch up on sleep, read a good book, stop procrastinating the laundry, invite a friend out for frozen yogurt, or go to one of those cool events that always looked interesting in the school paper, but that I never actually attended.

Since I can’t have a chat with my 18 year-old self, I’ve made a list of things I’d rather do than watch the Star Wars movie this time around.

1. Encourage my husband to go. Mentally note this occasion. Do not forget to remind him of it when necessary.

2. Finish our 2014 Family Photo Album. (That’s not a typo.)

3. Sleep. Like go to sleep ridiculously early. (How is it that I so rarely take advantage of something that is both rejuvenating and free?)

4. Read any of the books I have piled on my bookshelf, including

Better Than Before

The Moth (I have been in the middle of this one for over a year. That’s embarrassing.)

To Kill A Mockingbird (I read it in sixth grade, I meant to re-read for book club, and still want to re-read just because.)

Size 12 is Not Fat by Meg Cabot. (Sometimes I just want to read the equivalent of a rom-com.)

Big Magic

Hanson’s Half Marathon Method

5. Vacuum the basement. This one speaks just as much to the sorry state of the basement floor as it does to my ambivalence toward Star Wars.

6. Organize my sock drawer. There is something deeply satisfying about tosssing the orphans and starting fresh with a drawerful of matched pairs.

7. Watch an episode or three of Parenthood while eating popcorn sprinkled generously with nutritional yeast, drinking Good Earth  tea, and wearing flannel pajamas.

8. Write a letter to my pen pal. (Seriously, I have a pen pal. She is awesome. I had an essay about our friendship published in this anthology).

9. Drink a glass of wine or two. Then, send a press release about my book to a few more people. This is more scary than you think. Hence the wine.

10. See Sisters. I don’t understand how a movie about fake stuff can compete with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.