my movie for 2008. . . even though 2008 hasn't happened yet

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0988595/

So my life story.

thesising. . .

There's no real pressure to be here. I mean, sure, there'd be a few snide remarks and then a few pleading ones (I'm pretty sure most of those would be courtesy of the Fobs) and then I'd disappear.



Shoot. This was supposed to be an upbeat post.



I wrote a solid page last night--a solid, Grossman-heavy, single-spaced page. Which changes the whole of my introduction. But I already knew that. I just didn't know I'd enjoy it so much. If enjoy = the manic laughter that ensued once I realized that I am a genius. Or at very least brilliant.



See? That was upbeat. Kind of.



Okay, the good of this past week included seeing K and getting letters of rec squared away for this year's round of please-let-me-in. And I have the schools chosen, although I feel as though I should have one or two more, but I am picky. Picky = not wanting to live in Florida for the next five years.*



The good of next week includes Regina Spektor at In the Venue on Friday and Martian Child, which also comes on Friday but I'll wait until Saturday to see. (Anyone else here the John Cusack hallelujah chorus playing? Because it's there.)



And because no post is truly complete without a picture, here's something for the kids:





PS. November 9th is Ben Lee at In the Venue. Currently I'm going solo for this one, but you are always welcome to join me.

*Jeff has pointed out that my pickiness is worthless at this stage in the game, so I think Florida is a go. Plus I was totally seduced by their course offerings.

I can do this

I am not a brave person. I scare easily--or at least, I convince myself that I scare easily. The first time I went to Lagoon, I decided I was terrified of the white rollercoaster. I refused and refused to go until Meghan forced me into the line.

I loved it. I love rollercoasters now--my heaven will have a park full of rollercoasters and ferris wheels. Hopefully there will be a few people around to ride with me--because that's half the fun--but even if I'm the only one in rollercoaster heaven, it'll be perfect.

I like to think that this experience has taught me to risk experiences that scare. Tonight I rented Death Becomes Her, a movie that watching just a scene from gave me nightmares about ten years ago. Not a monumental fear, but I can still give myself a pat on the back. Next on my list: The Sixth Sense.

There's one important thing I need to get up the courage to do: finish my thesis. I've spent two months making excuses, putting it off, trying to ignore it. I can't do that anymore. I know I'm scared that I'll fail again, but maybe it will be all rollercoasters and ferris wheels.

I laugh in the face of karma

For the brave few willing to risk their souls in order to find out what I think of karma, I will be emailing you in the near future. Granted, that could mean today or two years from now (which would be marvelous for those of you who plan to stop associating with me by then--the random karmic email out of the blue--if you're planning on discontinuing our acquaintance, please let me know so I can plan accordingly).

Tonight's post (because it's 12:20 a.m. and therefore my night) is not about that karmic event or what I think of karma or anything along those lines. Tonight is a tempt-fate, laugh-in-the-face-of-public-opinion kind of post.

My brother is driving me crazy.

Wait for it.

My brother (this is Sven we're talking about here) is smart, handsome, funny, quirky in the kind of way that makes both guys and girls jealous. He's also a rather recent RM, which apparently gives him the excuse to be [fill in your favorite eg derougatory term here], at least according to our parents.

I don't have a problem with a 21-year-old being a little selfish. How much time do we really have in our lives to be selfish--to take time for ourselves and do what we want to do? I don't mind taking him dinner every once in a while. I don't mind sharing the car. I don't even mind him bashing one of my favorite movies or my favorite music--much.

What I do mind (enter karma*) is how he talks about girls. There just seems to be a lack of respect or even simple consideration for--I almost wrote "their feelings," but I won't make that mistake. Forget feelings. Just consider the person. What bothers me the most is that Sven possesses many of the characteristics I'm attracted to in guys (one incest joke and I'll send karma after you). Have guys I've been interested in talked about me this way? I know I've done some of the things Sven talks about--whether it's being interested in a guy who is out of my league or letting a flirtation get out of hand.

Maybe I'm just looking for excuses for why I'm still single--something I do more than necessary on this blog--but right now I don't want to even try.



*How karma factors in: Either this post will get me for gossiping about Sven or this whole experience is payback for Sven being scared of what girls think of him after hearing L and me talking about boys during high school.

my weekly confession

I'm addicted to horoscopes. There's something so intriguing about lining up the stars to suggest your future or your present. And something so brilliant about that vague line horoscope writers have to walk so that every once in a while "My horoscope was exactly right!" Which, of course, brings to mind the scene from Sliding Doors where Anna is attempting to make Helen feel better about her break-up by reading Helen's ex's horoscope--"With Mars. . . you'll be killed in a freak napalm incident, etc." Genius stuff. (If you haven't seen Sliding Doors, you should. Seriously. If only for John Hannah. And what more do you need?)

So my horoscope for today, courtesy of whatever random source Facebook is pulling from:

The past is returning to haunt you or help you, depending on what you were up to
back then. Karma isn't always as obvious as it is today, so it's a good reminder
to stay on the universe's good side.

I've been debating which part of my past they're suggesting. Past evil boyfriend who I should have realized was evil? The past month in which a whopping 0.00% has been completed on my thesis? The hamburger I shouldn't have had today? Okay, these are all haunting pasts. Let's think of a few helping pasts: a new Fob project, which has me writing again; a new CD suggested months ago by Renaissance Girl (The Weakerthans Reconstruction Site). . . if I'm using the word "new," does it still count?

Oh, and what I learned today about karma*: it can kill you. Slowly, softly, sometimes strumming, but it will kill.

* What I really learned about karma can be discovered by emailing me, but I try to keep it PG around here. PG or a very mild PG-13. Hmm. Maybe I should go by the UK's rating system. It just makes more sense.

(almost) a week in review

face masks with Maryn

and Sven.

Sven with the Abby Baby (note how well the mask worked!)

Maryn all vamped up

and Seth ready to sweep Lucy off her feet!

(I know it doesn't look like much, but that black hair is the product of at least 30 minutes of hair products)

asking, answering, and coming home

I spent hours yesterday and today looking for a set of vampire teeth. Not for me. For my sister, who is going to be a vampire a la Twilight, meaning as smoking hot as I can comfortably allow my 12-year-old sister to be. So far we have blood red lipstick and blood red nail polish, or, as an alternative, black lipstick and black nail polish. She's going to decide on one or the other once we've figured out her eye makeup. Seriously.

On the other side of the gender line is my 17-year-old brother who was asked to his school's Halloween dance last week. It's this Saturday and when I showed up yesterday he still hadn't answered. Which was a better place than where he was on Tuesday, when he wasn't sure if he could even go to the dance. Once he found that he could dance the night away with Sally (no nym needed), that was all he needed. But girls need closure, and this is the easy kind. She had asked with the classic "I'd pea my plants if you went to the dance with me," except she somehow managed to use candycorn instead of peas, which ruins the pun. Oh well. We (and by we I mean I came up with the idea, executed it, and drove him to Sally's) answered with a pair of dollar-store Halloween boxers filled with peas and displaying the lines "I was so excited you asked, I pea-ed my pants. Yes."

I'm not sure if this post counts as griping or celebrating. I love being home with Maryn and Seth. And I like helping them plan costumes (Seth is going as Ricky from I Love Lucy--apparently Sally's a redhead) almost as much as I like reading over their English homework or leaving them and the house behind to take the dog on another round-the-neighborhood walk (for the record, our neighborhood consists of two rather steep hills that we live in the "valley" of). The view from the mountain is perfect and I really don't mind getting up at 6:20 to wake Seth up and then being told he needs his eggs.

Really.

It is

raining.

I know there's a poem there somewhere. I've written about dancing in the rain with someone (thank you Tolkien Boy for obliging), but there's a poem about dancing alone. I just don't want to force it, but I have the lines and I get nervous when I think about lines too long. They tend to be, well, overthought and useless.

But it is raining. And I should be dancing.


. . . . . . .

In other thoughts, the song "Such Great Heights" has me confused, specifically the lines, "I am thinking it's a sign / that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images / and when we kiss, they're perfectly aligned." I know it's been a while since I kissed anyone, so correct me if I'm wrong, but for their eyes to align while they're kissing must mean that they have no noses (no noses were there / ever so magnificent -- my apologies to JH). Thoughts?

I don't usually advertise, but

you should check out this post of Sven's

http://educatingarchie.blogspot.com/2007/10/cosmic-with-slice-of-vander.html

Have a nice day.

PS Dinner went well. In a very nostalgic, completely platonic, eat until you can't kind of way.

one word

I was hunting for PhD programs to apply to for next fall (way too many prepositions there) and stopped by Stephen Tuttle's office for the AWP guide to creative writing programs. When I returned it, Tuttle and I chatted for a minute about my plans and his suggestions and then he asked me a question I've gotten a lot lately: "What do you write about?"

How do you answer that? Especially when you feel like you're all over the map? (I'm not, I know, but seriously? Seriously. And only Meghan would laugh at that and she's not here.)

Tuttle sensed my confusion (not that that was difficult) and prompted, "Just give me a word. This is a question you'll need to be able to answer."

I stammered out something foolish, felt foolish, and begged my way out of his office. I don't feel foolish any more, just curious. Should a writer be able to sum up their work with one word? Is there one word for what I write about? Because it's not all disappointment or silence or relationships or modern art or spiders. What I've come up with so far is "tension." It's what's prompting my newer work, so I'm going to go with that next time someone asks me. And then there will be a new question: What the hell does that mean?

I thought this was a good week

I told my therapist it was a good week. He shook my hand. Twice. I've been told that this can be a social indicator of congratulations. Maybe I got that wrong. Maybe he forgot who I was and was re-introducing himself.

I can count the good things: 4/5 classes went well. I began submitting poems to journals. Brooke helped me title some poems I've been working on. Brooke and mlh applauded some of my more experimental poems (unlineated verse with line break indicators--the gods must be crazy). K is coming in one week. Renaissance Girl started a blog. I found my favorite sushi roll at Happy Sumo. A guy who was The Boy three years ago is in Provo, is scruffy, and is going to have dinner with me on Monday night. Oh, and he called me. New meds are working. I found A Knot in the Grain, Emma Thompson's Sense and Sensibility Diaries, The Lovely Bones, and multiple Agatha Christies at DI. Two John Cusack movies to look forward to. And I just ended a sentence with a preposition. I should be on cloud six, at least.

Oh well. I'm just going to content myself with hyperlinking the hell out of this post.

Please tell me

what is wrong with this picture:

more reasons I love my brother-in-law

His comments directed to other cars in the Talmage lot:

"And now we have to stop to switch places because I'm a man and I have to drive everywhere."

"It's good that you love each other. Just don't do it on my time."

you should buy this

Really. You should. It's even on sale.

love may transform me to an oyster

I have written about my love for Beatrice and Benedick before. Specifically here and here and here. Oh, and, of course, here. So tonight when I read Grover's quick reference (here), I was happy to see someone else appreciate one of my favorite plays. Reading through my posts, however, I realized that what I was usually writing about was Benedick, not Benedick and Beatrice. I decided to return to the text. And then, being too lazy to find the texts among my many many stacks of books, I went to the (brilliant) 1993 film. Hooray for Kenneth Branagh. And Emma Thompson.

Tonight it's more than brilliant acting and brilliant-er lines that holds my attention. (Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hail souls out of men's bodies?) I'm thinking about the relationships in the play. Gideon Burton would have us believe the text is a study of homosocial relationships (Claudio and Benedick, Hero and Beatrice), but I'm going to stick with my love story. You have Claudio and Hero, who knew of each other before Claudio left for war, but who don't fall in love until he returns, when he sees her for the first time. And once they do see each other, and fall in love, the Prince proposes for Claudio and they prepare to marry in a week's time. Benedick and Beatrice have known each other for a much longer time. They pick at each other, but my favorite lines indicate they really have seen each other (You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old.) Benedick puts aside his wit when Beatrice needs him. They may be embarrassed by admitting they love each other, but they do love each other. And I, at least, read it to be a more mature love than that of Claudio and Hero's.

Why this sudden outburst? Other than my love for all things Benedick? I'm watching marriages start and end all about me. Marriage appears to be a scary, scary, wonderful thing. And I have no problem with the Hero/Claudio marriage, provided it matures. But I'm hoping for a Beatrice/Benedick romance and marriage. With both the wit and the . . . well, whatever it is.