"You know what it's like when you try and tell someone what your dream is like? It's so boring because it evaporates in the telling somehow. A novel for me is an attempt to build a kind of hermetic vessel that can contain this essence you've been dreaming about, this feeling that you don't want to evaporate. You keep it enclosed and you don't tell anyone about it until you build a vessel that can contain it and keep it at its maximum intensity and purity — that's the novel."  

Philip Pullman.  I don't know if I like him a ton, but this is spot on.

I JUST THOUGHT YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW, BLOG, THAT THE FOURTH OF OCTOBER - A DAY WHICH BEFORE TEN MIUTES AGO WAS GOING TO BE HORRID (A MONDAY, THREE QUIZZES, TWO ASSIGNMENTS) - IS NOW OFFICIALLY GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY IN A VERY LONG TIME.  WHY, YOU MIGHT ASK? BECAUSE, ON THAT DAY

THIS IS A PIECE OF NEWS THAT MERITS ALL CAPS. REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT.

Tuesday:
I bought the book this afternoon.  And I would like to add that this is the first book I have ever, EVER bought in hardcover the day after it came out.  EVER.  Now you see how truly important and marvelous this happening was, don't you?  I hesitated to buy sunglasses for five bucks this afternoon, but paid twenty two dollars for this book.  But it was worth it.  I like to think that Mr. and Mrs. Bryson will use the money I spent to go out to breakfast or buy a new toaster or something.

I can't think of a title because these things do not relate in any way.

Okay, quick rant.  And then I swear I won't complain anymore.

I am taking comp II this semester, and I think the class has one little flaw.  This flaw being - all we write are literary analysis papers.  Themes, themes, themes.  Theme in this, theme in that, how this contributes to the theme, how this does blah blah blah.  It's rather dull.  Right now we're just reading poems and short stories and writing dumb papers about symbolism - is it totally unreasonable of me to wish we were, I don't know, reading great examples of persuasive essays and then writing our own?  Doing different things?  Maybe that isn't what you do in comp II.  I didn't actually take comp I (transferring does have its benefits), so I really have no idea.

I use too many commas.

Anyways.  Back to the real world.

Okay blog, yes or no - would not school be infinitely more enjoyable if we all carried those leather book bags English schoolchildren had in the olden days?

Like this, for instance. 

Just a thought.  I mean, I know I'd be happier. 

Also, I think I'm a vegetarian.  It's taken me a while to realize this, though in retrospect there was a good trail of evidence that certainly pointed to the conclusion.

EVIDENCE

1.  I almost never eat meat.  I haven't had ham since 2006.  Steak since who knows when.  I've eaten chicken three times in the past six months.  Giving it up hasn't been a problem at all. 

2. Handling the meat at work grosses me out. It's slimy.  And even though Denny tells me that the juice in the bottom of the roast beef bag is not blood I still think it looks like blood. 

3. Thinking that the thing on my plate was an animal grosses me out.  The meat I eat cannot resemble an animal or part of an animal.  Even boneless, skinless chicken breasts are a stretch.  Usually, it has to be in a burrito or shaped like a dinosaur to be edible. 

4.  Also, animals are not clean.  I recently stopped drinking milk (Rice Dream, baby) because thinking "this came out of a cow" and the memories from a traumatic childhood trip to a dairy farm are too much for me.  Chickens are gross and they fight and peck each other with their dirty beaks.  Cows smell.  Pigs are pigs.

  

5. Even though I know most animals raised for human consumption probably live on some satanic farm in a tiny metal cage I still occasionally feel sorry that they had to die so I could eat them when black bean soup would have done just as well.

6. And, though this may not count as evidence it certainly motivates me to forgo meat - meat is expensive and I am cheap.  I do not want to pay eight dollars a styrofoam carton so I can make hamburger patties.  I can't do it.  I have a hard time buying food as it is (you always have to go get more! it's never done!) and I hate to pay that much money for something that's here today, eaten tomorrow.   I plan to grow as much of my food as possible when I live by myself.  Miserliness drives me to vegetarianism. 

Later:

My gosh.  I just went on a poetry forum/critiquing site (Eratosphere) to see what was like - jeez.  People talk about how there are too many uses of the letter w in a piece, or say that they think the enjambment is weak here, or recommend that the writer should change "limbs withering like weeds" to "limbs like weeds" because it's stronger.  Man.  And I'm happy if I can stick the right amount of syllables in and make it rhyme.  Jeez.

And you know what else?  I'm reading a book called The Ode Less Traveled by Stephen Fry (yes, that Stephen Fry.  He's a wonderful writer), and thus far it's been about writing in iambic pentameter - and my gosh.  I... it's simply amazing.  I knew what iambic pentameter was - I did not know a thing about trochees and spondaic and pyrrhic substitutions and weak endings.  It left me stammering.  I had no idea how very, very controlled great poets are; they're like mathematicians manipulating every tiny little aspect of a line to their advantage.  Incredible.  Pop in a spondee here to make the eighth syllable stand out more, then do a sort of call and response pattern with weak endings here and there.  No problemo.  Easy peasy. 

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.


Keats, of course.

living well is the best revenge

I'm going to say this, and then I will never make a peep about it again.

But,

There.  I'm done. 

How on earth can people claim to enjoy doing this?  People say I'm over-thinking the whole thing, and I probably am - but, my gosh, wouldn't you try to make the best choice you possibly can when thousands of dollars you do not have are involved?  I guess that's why people can just say "oh, just choose some place and be done with it because it doesn't really matter anyways" (which, may I say, is so encouraging) - they aren't the ones committing to pay all this money back.  Money stinks. 

Honestly, blog? The main problem I'm negotiating at the moment is this:  I am not interested in anything.  Scratch that, I'm interested in everything.  I would study archaeology, art history, English, theatre, graphic design, geography, journalism, history, medieval-renaissance studies, writing, philosophy and bookmaking if I could.  What I'm not sure about are the jobs attached to those degrees.  For one thing, a liberal arts B.A. doesn't exactly have an easy-to-follow path leading from the graduation stage.  I know finding a job after college is tough for everyone, but - and who knows, I could be wrong about this - I've always thought that people who studied things like nursing have at least some idea of what to do next.  What do you do after a B.A. in Humanities?  

What the heck - who cares, right! I mean! What the heck does it matter? Who cares if I don't know what I'll do! I'll do whatever I want to, darn it! I'll work three jobs and then go live in Europe for two months.  I'll save like heck and move to New York. I'll work for a summer and then drive to Montana and sleep in the back of a truck with a camper shell on it and see all there is to see.  I'll write crap poetry my whole life, always have a dog, and play ukulele every day.  And thank God I can.

I'm feeling much better now.  Thanks for listening, blog. What a great friend you are.

keywords: rant/rave/superheroes

Peer editing is a delightful way to spend one's time, is it not?

NOT! NOT! NOT!  PEER EDITING IS HORRIFYING! UGH!

Now that I've got that off my chest, let's talk about superheroes.  Why, you may ask, am I talking about superheroes?  Because, my dear blog, I have been wallowing in a veritable... a veritable... vat of toxic waste which the villain intends to drop the screeching heroine into with a satisfying sizzle.

Wait, that didn't make sense.

Okay, we are discussing superheroes because in the past week I have seen:

Batman Begins

The Dark Knight

Spider Man

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

and

X-Men

Yep.  In fact, I watched the last three with my sister yesterday.  And the only film among these that I had seen before - eons ago - was Spider Man.  

HOW THE HECK HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN BATMAN!? You might reasonably shriek.

And I would have to answer, in a calm, collected tone of voice, that I have no idea.  But, I am an odd child that way.  I had my first pumpkin pie last year.  I can't explain it.

But, anyways, let's move back to superheroes. 

THOUGHTS ABOUT THE MOVIES I RECENTLY WATCHED:

1. Batman. Is. Awesome.  He probably tops the favorite superhero list.  And, my heavens, those movies were done well. Michael Caine! Morgan Freeman!  Christian Bale!  Heath Ledger!  Oh, man.  I thought his put-on batman voice would annoy me - ended up totally cool with it.  The gadgets or whatever are believable.  Think how terribly, terribly wrong they could have gone with the bat mobile.   Granted, the Rachel switch was weird.  But still - ah! 

2. No matter how cheesy, I will still always like spider man.  I like Tobey  Maguire.  I love how awkward he is.  James Franco seems to be on the verge of tears in every movie I've ever seen him in - yet I still like him too.  The Green Goblin costume was wretched, yes.  Special effects decidedly 2002 at points.  But I still enjoyed it.  We're getting spider-man 2 from Netflix.  Alfred Molina seems to enjoy himself, doesn't he?  He chooses all these wacky roles, but performs them with such gusto that you can't think badly of him. 

3. X-Men.  X-Men.  X-Men.  

I don't even know what to say.  I am an extreme hater of leather jumpsuits or pants or anything besides modest jackets, and I still loved the movies. (And, believe me, I've hated movies for less than unfortunate pleather episodes.)  I found myself smacking Cee (my sister) about every ten minutes, shrieking quietly, "Did he kill her?  Is he going to kill her?" and "It's that thing! That blue girl is the statue of liberty." and "Tell me when to open my eyes." Oh my gosh. I am (cough) very rarely (suave brush of nails against shoulder) surprised by film plots (subtle puffing of chest) - and I didn't see some things coming in these movies.  It's terribly exciting.

EFFECT OF THIS SUPERHERO MOVIE OVERLOAD:

I want to be a superhero. I'm dead serious.  I wish I was disgustingly rich and brilliant and slightly unprincipled and not afflicted with chronic laziness.  I wish I liked working out and getting punched in the face. I wish I lived in a major city.  I wish I had a vast collection of ridiculously expensive gadgets at my command, or could shoot string out my wrists. I wish I was a master of the one-liner. Gosh, I wish I could be a superhero.  Despised by the people I have my nose regularly bloodied to save!  Feared by small children whose mothers tell them I will come get them if they don't brush their teeth right now!  And, deep down, content in the knowledge that I am working to rid my beloved city of sweatshirted thieves and making it a better place!  I so wish I could be a superhero. Or at least be saved by one. 

I watch far too many adventure movies.  It makes me discontent, and I start ranting to my poor dad about how you can't just take a canoe and go glide down a river and camp out wherever you want to anymore.  (These subjects - superheroes and canoes - are related, I swear.  At least, they are in a rather vague way in my head. So probably they are not really related at all.  Sorry.) I fret that life is too tame, too regulated.  I start to moan to myself that I'll never get to have any adventures, conveniently forgetting that Frodo almost goes nuts and dies.  Conveniently forgetting that getting horrible scars actually hurts.  Conveniently forgetting that being a superhero would basically be awful. 

Still...


X-Men 2 arrives in three business days.

5'10''

Five nice things about being almost five ten:

1.  I never have to hem pants. 

2. I can reach high shelves, open vents, and touch ceilings for the heck of it.

3. I could intimidate people if I wished - though I have yet to do so.

4. I can ride any ride at any amusement park.

5. lots of cool people are/were tall. (Also, I am a part of a big-footed sisterhood which boasts Audrey Hepburn and Jackie Kennedy as members.)

Five things I do not like about being tall-ish:

1.  I never get to cuff my pants.

2. I feel bad standing next to short guys.

3. Heels sort of make me look like a giant.

4. Heroines in books and movies are often short and small, a fact which is often commented on/admired by the hero.  I will never, ever be petit.

5. Airplane rides are a nightmare.

Have I mentioned that I love this, blog?  Because I do. Very much.