Liz Lemon Gif Party!

A few years ago my friend Molly introduced me to the show 30 Rock. 

I was going somewhere with that thought but now I'm hung up on the idea that this happened years ago. Years. It's disconcerting to think about years and how they are passing. Like this is life or something. Now I've stumbled upon a minor existential crisis...

But now we're back to talking about television. 

So 30 Rock was a show. A good show. And, I just found out, an award-winning show. I didn't realize how good until last week when I began watching the entire series. Up until then I'd only seen an episode here and there. Watching it, I found myself kinda wanting to be Liz Lemon. For Pete's sake, she got married as Princess Leia! How much better can you get? 

Then I realize how idiotic that is because a) fictional character and b) completely dysfunctional human. But Tina Fey makes it look so fun and awesome. 

I don't want to like Ms. Fey. I don't know why. I find her so intensely annoying on some level. But on all the other levels she's smart, hilarious, and I love her. 

On a side note, (because my brain is scattered today and I'm finding difficult to focus in on any one thing in particular (except how to be redundant)) I had a teacher in middle school that looked just like Kathy Geiss. 

fact. uncomfortable fact.

Anyway I finished the series last night and it bummed me out. Also, I've humming the theme song all day. *exciting jazz music*

I Swear I Used to Be Good at This

I really wanted to write something today but I'm finding that I  have nothing to say. I feel like I've talked myself out today anyway.

I went to a funeral today with my mother. (there have been too many funerals this year, but that's beside the point) We left town at around seven this morning. It was a three hour drive to the church where the service was being held. I didn't get much sleep last night ( I don't think I got more than three hours in) so I brought a large coffee with. Coffee always makes me chatty. So that's what I did. I talked and talked while my mum listened, amused.

The entire trip back I was thinking about writing. However, by the time we got home I was incredibly tired. I tried to stay awake but at around six this evening I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I slept until eleven. And now here I am. Minutes to midnight, wide awake, and with nothing interesting to say.

Picture It

Shall I make a confession? I think I shall. I'm in that sort of mood tonight. Though using the word 'confession' has negative connotations. Frankly, I don't find anything wrong with this particular predilection.

I love the classic television series The Golden Girls. Freaking love it.

For years now I have loved this show. It's  been consistently syndicated on one network or another and for the last seven or eight years I have been inconsistently watching. Every few years I see it again and I remember how much I love it. I've probably seen every episode three or four times. Can't be sure though. Haven't bothered to look that up.

irrelevant, but delightful 

But even though I've seen it over and over, it never gets old. It's my feel good show. Whenever I'm feeling down, I watch a few episodes and I'm good. It's the mashed potatoes of late night television. And as I looked about the internet for these gifs, I learned I'm not the only one who feels this way:

mine too, fellow random blogger, mine too

I love those filthy old ladies.

haha. sluts.

*Bonus gif set:

Starting

I was going to save this for the first of October or maybe the fifth because I like starting things on days that feel like beginnings. But I just need to get some words on the page. No more stalling.

It's been a few months. I've been meaning to post for a long time now. Unfortunately, every time I sit down to write the thought of talking about these months depresses me. So I'm going to skip all of that, keep it light, and pick up with something completely different.

Where to begin? Well, I suppose I should start with what I know best: books, movies, music. The three basic food groups. And since books is first, I'll begin there.

So I've been a bit of a dry spell. One that's lasted for several months now. I'll start one book, get a few chapters in, then completely lose interest. Back to the shelf it goes. Or worse, it sits on the trunk I have next to my bed. Perched there, it becomes the first thing I see in the morning. It mocks me. Calls me a fake. Tells me I am no true bibliophile. But I am! I swear I am! Or at least I was.

I have had some luck recently though. I've been able to read two books back to back. Actually, there were three if you count The Last Lecture. But I read that out of desperation. I was stranded for six hours. It was available (and only about two hundred pages). Turns out it wasn't too bad. Not my usual thing, but a decent read nonetheless.

Then I started in on what I like to call my "Remarkable Rummage Sale Collection."

Story: Mum and I used to go rummaging together during the summers. About four or five years ago we were in some stranger's garage looking at their trash and hoping to find some treasure. I happen upon a bookcase full of literature for sale. Now, finding books at a rummage sale is quite common. What was remarkable about this find was each book was a hardcover in excellent condition priced at 50 cents a pop. They were recent books too; most of them were published within the last decade. I started browsing and found a few that I'd like to get to know better. I think I walked away with over 20 books for 10 dollars. If I remember correctly, the actual total came out to $11.50 but the lady said a ten would do. Outstanding.

Anyway, over the years I've gotten through about five or six of them (other books always seem to find a way to cut in line). But now I've started working through them again. First one was Medicus by Ruth Downie. Next came The Romanov Prophecy by Steve Berry. Both quite delightful books that I thoroughly enjoyed. Up next is a book called Druids by Morgan Llywelyn.

It's a good thing I try really hard not to judge a book it's cover because the cover that came with this one is just awful. 

see? ugly.

Thank god it's just the dust jacket. I dislike dust jackets. I find them redundant. And I hate reading a book with the dust jacket still on. Dust jackets get in the way and always end up ripped. First thing I do when I acquire a book with a dust jacket is to take it off and put it in a bag with all the other dust jackets. 

dust jackets

Well, wish me luck. I hope this reading trend continues for a long while.

Going Steady

This last weekend my home town had a carnival. They have it every summer but I hadn't gone in years. Nothing had really changed. It's your average small town fair I suppose. Though I don't recall ever going to any other small town fairs. So who am I to say it's average?

There are a few rides: the Octopus, the Tilt-a-Whirl, a carousel, swings, the Scrambler (though this time it was a different machine and they called it the Sizzler). And this year they had a Ferris Wheel. They never had one when I was growing up. They had the Zipper for a few years but that disappeared by the time I was old enough to not be afraid to ride it. Unfortunately, the Ferris Wheel was not cooperating with us that evening so we never got to ride that.

There's the typical carnival food: corn dogs, cotton candy, funnel cake. I only partook of the last one. God, it was good. I freaking love fried dough. Now I'm hungry.

Then there were carnival games. You know the type. Throwing darts at balloons, knocking over cups, picking a rubber duck from a pool, tossing a ring. Well, that last one wasn't there this year. Actually, I'm not sure it was ever there. I never played any of those games. I always spent my money on food and rides. But this year was different. This year I went to the carnival with my boyfriend. I told him he needed to prove his love to me by winning me a stuffed animal. Just like the movies. Although, now that I think about it, I can't name any one movie where that happened. The image is clear in my mind: a boy Letterman's jacket with his hair slicked back, a girl in a poodle skirt with her hair tied in a perfect bow. He either plays the shooting game, the ball toss game, or that one game where you use the comically large hammer to ring the bell. He wins a silly pink stuffed dog or something, she cheers, and they happily ever after. The scene is so familiar but I couldn't tell you where it I know it from. It's just one of those things I suppose.

Anyway, he didn't win me a pink stuffed dog. I got a green giraffe!

I named him Alfie (short for Alfonso). Way cooler than a pink dog. He was won at the duck pond game. Not as thrilling as ringing the bell, but still quite effective. And giraffes are kinda my favorite so I'm pretty excited about it.

Also, in the process of winning Alfie for me, Dustin (aka the boyfriend) acquired a few other trinkets. Turns out winning the big prize on the first go around is quite rare. Who knew?

The first game played was the gun one. In the movies it's always some cardboard duck you shoot with a water pistol. Here it was plastic cups and a rifle that shot corks.

From this game, we walked away with three 'prizes'.

This sad, misshapen elephant. His head is permanently tilted to the left and his trunk is the size of his foot. But he's still kinda cute in an awkward way. 

This mini plastic bow and arrow set. It has a little rubber suction cup like apparatus on the end, but it doesn't stick to anything. 

And I've been told this was an attempt at a frog. But to me it just looks like some deformed, pitiable creature who's given up on life.

As a side note, we're going to a drive-in movie on Friday. I kinda want to wear a poodle skirt.  

I Met a Man Named Loyal

Last week I traveled to Minnesota with my mother. My dear grandmother recently had to enter a nursing home. I never considered how complicated and expensive the process would be (who knew getting old would cost so much). It made for a difficult week. The shinning silver lining was seeing my grandmother, Evelyn. She's 95 now and up until February 1 of this year (when she had her stroke) she was one of the most active people I know. I knew it would be hard to see her resigned to a wheelchair, stuck in a nursing home. And it was. But I won't go into it.

What I will say is that my grandmother is quite popular. She genuinely loves people. She has an astounding number of friends and treasures each one. It amazes me that she can remember everyone's name, who they are related to,what they do, where they're from, etc. I wish I could be more like her. She is always writing, calling, asking people how life is going. And now that she's incapacitated, many are returning the favor. Almost everyday we were there she had another visitor. They call her Evy.

So while visiting grandma, I met a lot of people. Actually, I should I say met them again. They had seen me around when we lived in Minnesota. It's impossible for me to remember them though. I haven't lived in Minnesota since I was two. But I digress. Many of these folks had the most interesting names. 'Old people' names, you know what I mean? Ethelyde, Ardis, Muriel. Then there was a man named Loyal.

armless elfs grandma has gifted
me over the years

When we weren't at the nursing home, we were at grandma's apartment sorting through things and packing things away. I wished I had brought my camera. Grandma has collected some very interesting objets d'art in her time. Most of them are Scandinavian in nature (grandma loves showing off her Norwegian heritage). Lots of strange elf-looking things. But some really pretty pieces as well. She has a thing for blue glass. (I too have a thing for colored glass. Perhaps she is the source.)

i swiped a few

You know what else my grandma loves? Crossword puzzles. She had at least dozen books of crossword puzzles. Before calling it a day, mum and I would watch Nick at Nite together and solve some crosswords. It was more fun than it sounds.

Besides, there was no internet.

The Case of the Disappearing Streets

What summer is synonymous with? Sunny days and balmy nights? Picnics? Baseball? Ha! Not around these parts, my friends. Folks 'round here like to joke that there are only two seasons: winter and road construction. At the moment that sounds about right.

The streets surrounding my house have disappeared.

and to the right

to the left

It has something to do with the gas lines or water pipes needing to be fixed. At one point we lived next to a giant trench. No pictures of that stage though. Too many burly construction men meandering about. I was afraid to  photograph them. No men operating large machinery on a Saturday though. Also, it was raining. Which brings me to my next point...

After a winter that lingered on into May, we have finally reached the stage that, at any other time, I would be enjoying. The rain. Days and days of rain. I love the rain. The way it sounds, the way it smells. Who doesn't love it? Dull people, that's who. But this year the rain is not as welcome as it normally would be. Days of endless rain delays the work that needs to be done. The project is already estimated to take five months to finish. Delays of any sort are most unwelcome.

But the days when construction can continue are not pleasant either. More than once I've woken up to the house rattling around me. More than once I've received a headache listening to the agonizing harmonies of excavators, bulldozers, and dump trucks working in tandem. More than once I've fallen asleep to the same sounds because the men keep working after dark.

a photo taken a few weeks ago when the tree out front was full of pretty pink blossoms

I know I shouldn't complain. It needs to be done, whatever it is they're doing. The road was in terrible shape before anyway. But the inconvenience and noise is unavoidably irritating. Also it doesn't help that every other major road around the county is being worked on too (I'm exaggerating, but only slightly).

But the good news is I'm leaving tomorrow for a week-long trip with my mum.

The bad news is we're leaving to go pack up my grandmother's things because she had to be moved to a nursing home after suffering a stroke four months ago.

Life, it seems, never gets easier.

It Has Come To This

When I woke up this morning - actually I can't really say I woke up this morning. Truth is I never went to sleep last night. So many of my nights of late are just that: sleepless. But why trouble you with my trifling woes? Insomnia is nothing new. And even this has its silver lining.

Whilst most late night/early morning television consists of the most absurd health and beauty hokum, there

they called these two Honey and Toto

are a few gems hidden away in the wee hours. Because I was unable to sleep, I was able to watch Big Cat Diaries. I love this show. It's a pity they don't make it anymore. There's just something so purely entertaining about these British fellows racing about Kenya, filming some of the most dangerous animals on the planet. It's a delightful import from the BBC. They give the cats names, follow their personal stories, and make it all so dramatic. And the babies are so cute! It's so sad when they die. Which happens a lot.

look at his face!

I started watching this show about four years ago when I would catch it over the lunch hour. I think there were only three or four seasons of it made. But it's just fantastic. I love big cats. And because the show is a little (gasp) educational, I've learned quite a bit about them. For instance, I now know that cheetahs cannot roar and male leopards are rarely seen in the wild because they are so very shy. I could go on. They just fascinate me so.

And I've just realized I began this post with "When I woke up this morning" but never finished the thought. But that makes sense since I was going to say "with my mind racing." It's been wandering all over the place lately. It keeps me up at night, never settling on one thing. Always moving, always changing. I try to catch it, pin it down, but it's out of control. I attempted to rein it in with a book.

I've been reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I needed to see for myself why this book was so popular. I'm about a third of the way through. It's pretty good so far but nothing spectacular. I keep hoping it will pick up the pace soon. I'd like it to be at least worth the $6 I spent. I'd also like it to be worth all the time I've put in, muddling through the vast array of Swedish names.

Anyway, the book didn't work. My mind didn't quiet down. Sleep didn't come.

So the telly turns on again at around 5 AM and I watch Animal Planet until the sun makes an appearance.

It Was a Monotonous March

I woke up this morning and discovered we're already five days into April. The month of March seems to have escaped me entirely. It appears the lingering effects of Epstein-Barr virus have gotten the best of me. Alas, I have not yet broken free of the grasp of mononucleosis.

So what have I been doing all this time? I can hardly say. Time has become an enigma to me. I remain ambivalent to the days as they pass by slowly and then all at once. Time has become more wibbly-wobbly than usual. (have you seen the latest Who? I am so excited about this new companion! and no more Amy!)

For awhile I was on a hot streak of reading. But then I faltered. Right now I'm about midway through a book called Possession. It's about these two British scholars who discover some long lost letters written by a pair of Victorian poets. They then travel about together to unravel the mystery. It's actually quite good. But it's so dense. It's been a long time since I've had to work this hard at reading a book. As a result, it often sits closed and unread for days at a time.

A deep melancholy and erratic sleep patterns have combined to make my days incredibly long and short at the same time in the most distressing of ways.

But you know what today is? It's my half-birthday. I've survived another six months on this planet. So that's something I suppose.

More Death

I was going to call this "Death of a Series Part II" because the book series I want to talk about is another I will probably never finish. But that title just doesn't quite work. First of all, I do not want people to think that this series is in any way, shape, or form similar to Ms. Kenyon's work. They are as different as chalk and cheese. And secondly, I will most likely not be able to finish this series for an entirely different reason: the author died.

Ariana Franklin was her name. Well, her pseudonym. I read her historical thriller series called Mistress of the Art of Death. Brilliant books. Compelling. Suspenseful. Smart. Absolutely incredible. There were moments while reading these books that I stopped, looked around, and said in an astonished whisper, "Holy crap..."

my lovelies

Set in the late 12th century, they feature a medieval pathologist named Adelia Aguilar. Henry II is in dire need of an expert in deduction and the art of death. He summons the best and the best just happens to be a woman. However, in 12th century England any woman who possessed such knowledge would be condemned as a witch. So Adelia has to do her deducting and death arts in secret.

Side note: It is a fact that in Salerno (where Adelia is from), in the 12th century, there was a medical school that would also teach women.

book one

I could really go on and on about these books. There is so much I want to say but it would be spoilers. And these are books that should not be spoiled.

The woman really knew her history. Much of what she writes is historically accurate. The places, the people, the superstitions, the power the church had over everyone. All of it is based in fact. Lady knows her stuff.

And the characters! So brilliant. So complex and real and flawed in all the right ways. Adelia is just wonderful. She's strong, smart, and independent. But she is still a woman of her time. She knows the world she lives in and the rules she must live by. So she follows them, albeit begrudgingly. All the other characters too, I just love them. I really want to list them all, but that would take up far too much time and space.

book two

Also the crimes and mysteries in these books are just mind-boggling. They are complex, with the needed number of twists and turns to make it exciting without being convoluted. The crimes themselves are often quite gruesome. Some of this stuff I don't think even CSI would touch. But they are not so far-fetched that they could be considered impossible for the time period. It's a nice reminder that there have been depraved people all throughout history and it's not just a recent trend.

book three

But the intrepid Adelia always perseveres and finds the killer. It's never a happy ending though. How could it be? A person or two (or three or four) is always dead. Another dozen people are inevitably injured in some way. It's the 12th century for Pete's sake! People died of paper cuts back then. How many happy endings could there possibly be in such a time and place?

book four

Anyway, the point is, these books are fantastic. After reading the forth one (which of coursed ended on a huge cliffhanger) I popped online to see when the fifth would be out. And it was then I discovered there would be no fifth. Franklin had passed away... Two years ago! Two years ago and I had no idea. By that point I had been reading her books for at least four year.Well, needless to say I was devastated. An author who had just become one of my all time favorites was now gone. Also, I would now never know how Adelia and company escaped the assassins the Church of England had sent after them!

But then I found a ray of hope. Before Franklin's death she had started a stand alone novel that she was unable to complete. But her daughter took it upon herself to finish it. So maybe, just maybe, Franklin's daughter will write a fifth Mistress of the Art of Death novel as well. It's unlikely, but it's all I have.

Then of course there is the possibility that Franklin never intended to write a fifth book in the series. Perhaps she meant to have these characters' fates left unknown. I suppose that would be rather fitting and a good way to end the series.

But that doesn't stop me from wanting more.

Things That Most People Enjoy but I Do Not

Food Edition

I have nothing personal against the foods and drinks listed here or the people who might enjoy them. In fact there are occasions, albeit rare occasions (the conditions have to be just right or I have to be desperate), in which I will partake of said food.

This list is probably not complete. But these are the foods that come up most often. They are also the ones I get the strongest reactions with. Especially the first two.

People look at me like I just murdered a bald eagle:

Bacon
Steak
Gravy
excess amounts of Cheese
Nachos
Coke/Pepsi
Dr. Pepper (and all the imitators)
Hot Chocolate (with or with marshmallows)
most cases of Milk Chocolate (but I freaking love dark chocolate)
Caramel
Peanut Butter (there is a story attached to this one, but I don't think I'll share it here)
Pretzels (unless they are covered in almond bark)
Peanuts (redundant but I need to emphasize how much I dislike them and anything pertains to them)
Sour Cream
Watermelon
Honeydew
Cantaloupe
really any type of melon
Cherries (but I love cherry flavored things)
grape flavored things (but I love Grapes)
Corn when it's on the cob
Olives
Tuna
Shrimp
actually almost all seafood
Kettle Corn
Puff Popcorn
Cotton Candy
Malts (also the ball version)
Milk Duds
Cheesecake
Twizzlers (and all other Liquorice-esque things)
Pudding
Twinkies
Tootsie Rolls (they are NOT chocolate people!)
Pixy Sticks
Swedish Fish
Jelly Beans
Laffy Taffy
pretty much all Hostess snacks (but that's a moot point now)
same goes for Little Debbie snacks
Deviled eggs (however I enjoy most other ways eggs are prepared)
Pork Rinds (even sounds unappealing to me)

I'd like to make a note that the majority of things on this list are actually a bit (some more than just a bit) unhealthy (guess I'm not much of a candy person). This fact makes me feel less guilty for not liking them. And despite the length of this list, I don't consider myself a picky eater. The list of things I do like is much longer.

Death of a Series

There is nothing worse than falling out of love with a book series.

Actually, I think I've fallen out of love with author's entire collection. What could I possibly be talking about? I'm talking about the works of Sherrilyn Kenyon, bestselling author of urban fantasies and paranormal adventures. She is no Tolkien or even a Stephen King for that matter. Her books are not literature. They are fun. And that's why I loved them. They were simple reading but most importantly, they were entertaining. That's why I read them. I wasn't expecting to be intellectually challenged or gain some insight into the human condition. I was looking for an escape. Yes, they have terrible titles such as Sins of the Night and Unleash the Night and Seize the Night (the theme here would be "night shenanigans") but I didn't care. And yes, in case you were wondering, they are technically romance novels. Melodrama all around! But that isn't why I enjoyed them as much as I did. I loved the overarching story lines.

dark hunter
symbol

In her Dark-Hunter series (terrible name) classic mythology plays a huge part. The ancient gods are real and they still have the power to control or protect humankind, etc, etc. Think of it as a grown up version of the Percy Jackson series.

One of the main characters is Acheron (named after the River of Woe that flows in the underworld) and he is the last of the Atlantean gods (not counting his mother, Apolymi The Destroyer,  who is trapped in Atlantean hell for reasons and if she ever gets out, she'll destroy the world... but other than that she's a pretty nice lady). So Ash, as he prefers to be called (and thank god, because properly pronouncing Acheron is a bitch), and his immortal buddies (aka the Dark-Hunters) fight the Daimons (which are kinda like vampires but they don't want your blood; they want your soul. because they were cursed 11,00 years ago by Apollo to die painfully at the age 27 and the only way to escape that fate is to consume the souls of the living...yeah). There is revenge to be had, justice to seek, evil plots to be thwarted, and death to laugh in the face of.

ash's personal
symbol

All the big names of Greek mythology make an appearance: Zeus, Hera, Apollo, Artemis, Eros, Athena, Hades, and so on. (also, there is an entire pantheon of Atlantean gods that Kenyon created on her own) Then some Celtic gods like the Morrigan and Camulus come to make mischief. And then some Egyptian gods, some Sumerian gods, some Norse gods (Loki included), and even some Native American gods show up. And I'm pretty sure she's gearing up to introduce her version of Lucifer.

a shapeshifter's
symbol

Yup, we got your shapeshifters, witches, oracles, angels, fallen angels, gods, demigods, and every type of demon you could possibly think of. Basically Kenyon threw in all a bit of everything. Like supernatural gumbo. Which is an apt description because the majority of the books are set in New Orleans.

The individual stories are kinda lame. I was always aware of that. And they generally follow the same basic formula: two tortured souls meet; they are instantly attracted to each other; they must deny their feelings for reasons; someone or something wants to kill them and/or take over the world; they have to work together to save everyone from the latest Big Bad; at the last minute they win and end up together living happily ever after; and then they show up again throughout the series to help the next supernatural, star-crossed lovers save the world. Fine. Whatever. It's not Shakespeare, but it's pretty damn entertaining. Like I said, I was in this for the escape.

Side note: I know I'm making it sound a little flat, but the plot of the series as a whole is actually rather complex. It's not something you can just start in the middle of. So it has its merits.

But now, after my brief taste of being an English Major, my ability to read these fun little stories and escape has been utterly destroyed. All the flaws that I was able to completely overlook before are now so glaring that I have to shield my eyes. I find myself criticizing every little thing (and there are a lot of things). The heroes that I found kinda charming before are now just two-dimensional rehashes of each other. The story lines, the characters, the dialogue! All of it now appears to be so hackneyed that I can barely stand it. And she uses the same lines over and over and over!

 league symbol

And the destruction is not limited to that one series. I was also reading another series by Kenyon called The League. It's kind of like Firefly or Star Wars except there are no well-thought-out, multidimensional characters who exchange smart and snappy dialogue. But there are people running around in space, hopping from planet to planet in their different spaceships, and undermining a tyrannical government (which in this case is called "The League" and they are basically a bunch of ninja assassins). There is even a little smuggling, a few blaster battles and some telekinetic shit happening. But, just like the other Kenyon series, I can no longer read these books to escape because I have discovered the writing is terrible.

yet another symbol
lady likes symbols
everybody gets a
symbol!

And then there is a third series by Kenyon that I was reading (the woman writes a lot of series). This one was called Belador. Basically more of the same: lots of supernatural stuff going on, people need to save the world, etc. I enjoyed the first book a great deal. I had just bought the second one when I started taking English courses at school. Now that book sits on my shelf, unread and gathering dust. I don't know if I'll ever be able to read it.

I miss escaping into the elaborate (if not derivative and more than a little cheesy) worlds that Kenyon created. I hope that one day I will once again be able to ignore the writing itself and just enjoy a fun story.

Another side note: there are currently 24 books in the Dark-Hunter series, of which I own 20; there are currently 7 books in The League series, of which I own 4; and there are currently 5 books in the Belador series, of which I own 2. That's a lot of money so I had better be able to enjoy them again soon!

I don't want to think about how much money is sitting on this shelf...

Embarking on a New/Old Book

*may contain spoilers*

Well, I finished Frankenstein. Loved it. I went in thinking that I knew what was generally going to happen. Because who doesn't know the basic story Frankenstein? But as I mentioned previously, the book was quite different from anything I was familiar with. And frankly (ha!) it was better than I expected. The last few chapters had me on the edge of my proverbial seat. I honestly had no idea what was going to happen. It's rare for me to be able to read a classic without already knowing how it ends. I've either seen a movie based on it or read about it somewhere else.

A few things about the creature I learned and found interesting:

He can talk: And not just talk. He gives long, eloquent speeches. The thing gets 6 chapters all to himself. 6 chapters of just him talking. But I think those were some of my favorite chapters. The monster has a way with words:

“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

Also, he says 'thy' and 'thou' a lot more than anticipated.

however, in this picture he seems to be saying "Oh you!"
 instead of "AARARAGH!"

He is not terrified of fire: This is another familiar element of the stories I grew up with. But it was missing from the original. There is a scene just after he's come to life in which he burns his hands and freaks out. But can you blame him? He's only a few hours old. And he gets over that pretty quickly anyway. He even goes on to burn down a house. Good for him!

He's more like a superhero (villain?) than a zombie: He moves with speed and agility. He's able to live in harsh conditions that normal humans wouldn't survive. He never stops in his quest for justice/revenge. And for awhile he even lives in a lair.

Two more small things before I move on:

Frankenstein is not the monster, but he's also not a doctor. It is never implied that he is one and not once is he referred to as Dr. Frankenstein.

There is no Igor. No assistant at all, hunch-backed or otherwise.


After reading about Frankenstein and his need for revenge, and Frankenstein's monster and it's need for revenge - I was in a revenge sort of mood. So naturally the next book I choose to pick up is The Count of Monte Cristo.

Love this book. I read it back in high school and thoroughly enjoyed it. However, over the years I have forgotten much of what happens in it. I simply must read it again. Now this book is much longer and much more confusing. So many characters, so many interweaving relationships, so much revenge to be had! And all the names are French so it's difficult for me to keep track. Luckily I found this delightful chart to help me keep them all straight.

Now off I go on an epic journey of mystery, romance, betrayal, revenge (so much revenge), and yes, even some buried treasure!

Monsters On My Mind

It has not escaped my notice that this blog has deteriorated into a place where all I talk about is my current favorite television shows. This is not what I wanted. It makes me feel shallow and asinine. Besides, I never have anything of much substance to say. I'm not a very good critic. So from here on out, I'm going to try to keep the television fandom rants to a minimum.

Recently, I'm begun reading Frankenstein. (I'm still in the middle of The Complete Sherlock Holmes and about a third of the way through Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Poe but that didn't stop me from picking up another book) I have never before read this book. I didn't get to read it in high school, though the class before me did. My class got to read Night by Elie Wiesel instead. Not that I'm complaining about that. It was a good book. Though I can't really say that I enjoyed it. But really, how does one take enjoyment out of reading a story like that? I'm glad I read it. But I don't plan on ever reading it again.

Anyway, back to Frankenstein. I bought the book (along with my first copy of Dracula) back in high school with the intention of reading it then. However, as it so often used to happen, I bought more and more books, and thus Frankenstein moved further and further down list. Now, I'm not sure what made me pick it up at this particular time. I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that I've been in a rather dark and lonely state of mind of late. This had made it rather easy to sympathize with the characters in the book.

Before reading the book all I knew of Frankenstein is what I've seen in movies and on television. The Boris Karloff monsters with green skin and bolts in the neck. The bumbling assistant Igor with his hunchback. The epic scene when the monster first awakens with lightening flashing, thunder cracking, and a mad scientist screaming "It's alive!" Now, when I began reading this book I fully expected that much of I know of the Frankenstein legend would most likely not appear or at least have significant differences. But in truth, I had no idea just how different the book is from the movies. I knew going in that Frankenstein is the name of the creator not the monster. In fact the monster never gets a name. But that was about it. I expected the scene in which the monster comes to life to be at least a little dramatic. But no. It just sort of happened. And then Frankenstein doesn't see the monster again for another two years! When he finally does confront it for the first time I was expecting a mindless, ungainly fiend who's only form of communication is of a series of grunts. Again, I was mistaken. The monster can talk, and quite eloquently too. Also, he's able to move about the cliffs where he resides with great speed and precision. In short, he was not at all the creature I was familiar with. I find myself sympathizing with him more than his creator. That was something I did not expect.

turns out the monster
should look a little
more like this

and a little less like this

This is why I enjoy reading classic books that have been made into movies over and over. The characters become bigger than the stories that originated them: Sherlock Holmes, Dracula, Frankenstein, Romeo and Juliet, Quasimodo, etc. These characters and their stories are things we have grown up with. But the versions we most recognize are so much different for their original form. I like seeing where they started and then try to trace that to where they've ended up. And more often than not, I find myself enjoying the originals more than the pop culture versions I'm used to.

Mono, Nathan Fillion, and Knitting

I've never had mono before but now I can cross that off my list. For the last three weeks or so I've been suffering all the classic symptoms. I have enjoyed absolutely none of it. The first doctor I saw about it actually told me that my throat looked horrific. That was the word she used. Horrific. I left feeling very reassured.

Anywho, I'm finally feeling better now, though I still get tired rather quickly. I've been doing a lot of sitting around, a lot of time watching television shows on the internet, and a lot of time stitching/knitting. So the silver lining here is me being able to cross off some things on my list. It's not a brilliant silver lining. Rather dull but hey it's all I have.

because it's a coat
that's brown

too precious for this world

First thing I crossed off was watching Firefly. I've been hearing for years how wonderful this show was and how awful FOX was for cancelling. I didn't understand, but now I do. This show was brilliant. Too brilliant. I officially consider myself a browncoat. Yes, I loved it that much. There is little I can say that hasn't already been said a thousand times over on a thousand different forums. The simple fact is it should have lasted. People are still asking for it to be renewed. But honestly, I think the time has passed for that to happen. Or at least the time has passed to do that with the original characters. The actors are ten years older now and working on different projects. At least Nathan Fillion is. I don't know about the others, but he's doing pretty well on Castle.

I want one

Which brings me to the next thing I crossed off: catch up on Castle. After watching the splendor that is Firefly, I found myself in need of more Nathan Fillion. So of course I turned to Castle. I started watching the show when it first came out and when I actually watched my favorite shows on a television at the regularly scheduled time. I got about halfway through the first season before I became distracted and forgot about it. And so I had quite a bit of catching up to do. But hey, I had the time. At the end of the day, the show is quite good. Over the last few years I've lost interest in cop shows but this one is delightfully different. The character of Castle is, in a word, awesome. I wish I could be a tenth as cool as him. Also, I freak out a little bit every time they make a Firefly reference. (happens more than I thought it would)

I see what you did there

And that's about it. Though, perhaps I'll add some pictures of the scarf I made and the cross stitch projects I finished before this entire thing becomes a Nathan Fillion appreciation post.

not the right season, but they were all I had left

stockinette stitch, bitch!

My Time With the Master

I have been extremely negligent. For the last few months I have been meaning to write a post about an important subject. Unfortunately I never seemed to get around to it.

But at this moment, as I'm typing these words, I have no access to the internet. While this fact distressed me for a moment, I quickly realized it presented me with a wonderful opportunity: uninterrupted writing time. So I opened a blank document and set myself up for a writing free-for-all. I stared at the blank at the empty white space on my screen for a full five minutes, waiting for words to come. Alas, they are not always ready to play when I am.

And thus I've settled on writing about a rather trite topic instead of the grand one I had hoped for. The good news is that I've been meaning to write about this for months and months.

So here's a post about Sherlock Holmes.

I've mentioned the great detective every now and again in different posts but never in the full detail this fictional man deserves. I've always had an affinity for a good detective story. But honestly, who doesn't? I can not begin to count the number of procedural cop shows I have been addicted to at one time or another. (actually I probably could but it would be a rather long list and I don't feel like admitting to most of them at the moment) And for as long as I can remember, I've been aware of Sherlock Holmes. He's just one of those characters that everyone knows. Like Dracula or Frankenstein or (more recently) Yoda. You don't need to have read the books or seen the movies to be aware that these characters exist.

And so Sherlock has always been there, lurking in the corners of my cultural consciousness. But recently I have pulled him into the spotlight. It probably began with the movie Sherlock Holmes starring the ever alluring Robert Downey, Jr. I was intrigued by how the movie portrayed Holmes and Watson. Here Sherlock was not a stodgy Englishman with overly correct grammar and Watson was not the affable, portly sidekick I'd come to expect. I thought perhaps they were just trying to make these characters new and attractive for a younger audience. Then I happened to watch an interview with the stars of the movie. They explained that the movie was actually more true to the original tales than many of its predecessors This intrigued me. I decided I must read the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original stories see for myself. But I have a long list of books to be read and Sherlock did not look like it would be moving to the top of it anytime soon.

Then I decided to watch this BBC show I had been hearing about. It's simply called Sherlock and it's a modern take on the classic tales. Hardly an original idea, but I had heard good things about it. Of course I ended up falling in love. For as much as Steven Moffat annoys me, the man is a damned good writer. There are only two seasons of the show right now and only three episodes apiece. The good news is that there are more on the way. The bad news is that they aren't scheduled to go into production until March. (something about the two main actors being busy working on some other project called The Hobbit or whatever) It's quite sad. The fandom waits patiently, though not quietly, for more.

After I finished that series I simply had to acquire The Complete Sherlock Holmes. I mentioned it not too long ago. I've been working at it for quite some time. A few pages here, a short story there. It's been slow yet consistent progress. And I must say that I am quite enjoying it. It's so interesting to compare the image of Sherlock that I've acquired over the years with what was actually written. I beginning to understand why these stories have remained so popular. He is, after all, the most portrayed literary human character in film.