I Always Dress Fancy On This Day

Today is my birthday and the world and (most of) its governments now recognize me as being a 22 year old adult. But, lord in heaven, I don't feel it.

Yesterday in class my psych teacher mentioned that it had been somebody's birthday the previous day. At the time he was holding a giant orange balloon. I was about to mention that the next day (today) was my birthday. But the odd smile on his face and the slightly menacing look in his eye made me hesitate. So I kept my mouth shut.

I was right to do so. He was using the balloons as way of demonstrating classical conditioning. The balloon was a neutral stimulus that he turned into a conditioned stimulus. He asked the girl next to me if she liked balloons. She said yes. He asked if she wanted one. She said sure. And then he popped the balloon right in her face. I knew it was going to happen. I jumped anyway. He then moved over to me with a purple balloon and asked if I wanted it. I wanted to say yes just to spite him (and maybe a little bit because I did want the balloon), but I didn't.


Anyway, back to the birthday thing. Here are some fun facts about today:

- I share a birthday with Neil deGrasse Tyson. (and if you don't know who he is, you lead a sad, uninformed life because he's awesome)

- October 5th is the most common birthday in America. (for a moment I thought this was cool, but then I realized I have to share with more people)

- The Beatles released their first hit, "Love Me Do," in Britain on this day in 1962. (this makes me feel like I was somehow destined to become a Beatles fan)

- Also on this day in 1962, Dr. No, the first in the James Bond film series, is released. (I'm not an overly huge fan of James Bond movies, but it's still pretty cool)

- In 1921, the The World Series was broadcast on the radio for the first time. (this just make me happy)

Suddenly Cinema the Sequel

Because everything is a sequel these days.

Looking for Alaska by John Green is an delicious book. Another offbeat coming-of-age tale I read in high school. It has memorable characters and an only slightly predictable plot. An oddball high school guy transfers to a new school and meets some eccentric people and is befriended by them. One of them is a girl named Alaska Young. He falls in love; teenage antics and drama ensue. I'm making it sound really lame, but trust me, it's a good book. So good that Paramount bought the rights to make it into a movie.

When I discovered this, I was not pleased. For those who've read the book, I think you'd agree with me that it would be very difficult to replicate this narrative. Or at least the tension it creates in the first part. And I don't think I would like seeing any actress try to be Alaska.

But the more I think about it, the more interested I am in seeing how Hollywood would try to pull it off. (mostly because the author has said he loves the screenplay that has been written) I know I'd be disappointed, but that goes without saying when seeing a movie based on a book you loved. But, alas, I will probably never have the chance to be let down. Due to lack of interest, Paramount has shelved the project indefinitely. IMDB sill has a page for it, but there nothing on it. See? It's there. Someone cared enough to create a space for it.

Now I've heard wonderful things about the author's other works as well. I'm very interested in reading the other books he's published. John Green has developed a small cult following over the last few years. And apparently Hollywood has taken enough notice to purchase the rights to several of his novels but they don't care enough to actually follow through with any of them. I'm not sure if I'm happy about this or not.

Suddenly Cinema

Why does it seem like every book I read as a teen is being turned into a movie just now?

I meandered onto IMDB again today. It's something I do. Often. And there, right on the front page, was an advertisement for a new movie called Fat Kid Rules the World. I was wary as I clicked the link. Was this for real? Had someone really made of movie of that book? Lo and behold, someone had. And it looks good. Now it's been years since I read this book. I think I must have been about 14 when I did. So my memory of it is kind of hazy. There's this kid who is fat. (spoiler) He becomes friends with this other kid who is a homeless, drug addicted, wanna punk musician. It's an offbeat coming-of-age story. I do remember that I adored it. I'm always nervous to watch movies based on books I've read for the obvious reasons. But the preview looks amazing. I think I just might invest the time and money to see this.

The movie version of The Perks of Being a Wallflower is out in theaters now. I read that book my freshman year of high school. I remember it vividly. Both the book itself and the actual reading of it: I would often be reading that book instead of paying attention in computer class. (sorry Mr. Stone) I won't say the book changed my life, but it did have a significant impact on several of the life choices I made that year. Well, at least that first semester. I don't think I'm going to see the movie. The image I have of Charlie in my head does not match the actor on the screen and I don't know if I can handle that. Also, I don't know how I feel about Emma Watson. I might end up watching it anyway. But I'm not going to pay for it.

Okay, so that was only two. But it seems like a lot more.

You know what? I'm going to include Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, even though that movie came out in '08. I remember ordering that book online from B&N back in the day. I also remember how the day after I got the book in the mail, I saw the first trailer for the movie. I was not overly happy. I never did see the movie. I didn't want to. The book was amazing. Completely amazing. Two teenagers running around New York's underground music scene; getting caught making out in a motel supply closet; meeting a transvestite named Tony, or Toni, possibly Toné? What more could you want from an offbeat coming-of-age story? (I'm starting to notice a pattern) But I could tell, just from the trailers, that the movie did not follow the book at all. They made it into a Micheal Cera comedy. All elbows and awkwardness. I had no desire to see that again.

And while I'm at it, I'm going to give an honorable mention to the made-for-TV movie version of Speak. Actually, I'm not very happy about this one either. I read the book when I was 13. The movie came out in '04. It stared a then little known actress named Kristen Stewart. I didn't want to watch then and I definitely don't want to watch it today.

Little Miss, Little Miss, Little Miss Can't Be Wrong

A meandering meditation on the malevolence of mathematics - written with pencil and paper while not paying attention in class; later transcribed while listening to hits of the nineties 

And on to Chapter 10! Math class just got twice as bothersome. We are now required to shut our computers while the instructor discusses the lesson. The girl across the room is sitting in a chair that squeaks. I can't tell if that sound is more annoying than the instructor's voice or not. His voice puts me to sleep, he has the worst grammar, and he speaks with a lisp. How am I going to survive the rest of this class without the comfort of the fifth wall? There is nothing to shield me now. I feel quite exposed. It's like being back in high school. Scratch that. It's like being back in middle school. That's the level of math we are at in here.

I feel obnoxious with my graphing calculator. Pretentious, ridiculous. This class makes me feel stupid. Not because I don't understand the material, but because I actually do understand it. This is seriously low level stuff. But I guess that's the level I'm at. Numbers were never my thing. They don't fit together in my head the way words do. But this? This ridiculousness? This stuff is so very easy for me. And that just tells me how elementary it is.

I think part of the reason I always struggled with math is my need to understand why. Why are these the rules and what do they mean? How do they work? And my little brain could just not wrap itself around all these theories and concepts. So whenever I looked at an equation I would stare at the different components and try to understand why. But the thing is, there is no real "why". Things just are. I'm sure there are "whys" and anyone who knows math well enough could probably explain them to me. But there is no way I'll ever understand them. All of that is way beyond me.

Another reason I hate math is the simple fact that I hate being wrong. And more often than not, I'm wrong when it comes to numbers. So I never really tried in math. It was easier to just give up than risk being wrong again and again. It's the perfectionist in me. If I can't do it perfect, I won't do it at all. Another personality flaw.

And so, after many years of battling numbers, I am left with the notion that I will never understand them, and I don't really care to try.

Crapehanger

I would never consider myself a pessimistic person. But I am not an optimist either. I like to think of myself as a realist with hopeful tendencies. However, there are times in life when even the stoutest heart can no longer stand against the tide of misfortune that life deals out. And I, by no stretch of the imagination, have an overly stout heart.

I lay the blame of my current gloomy mood on five distinct factors:

1) I have had the same cold for weeks now. Admittedly, I haven't done much to get rid of it. I have just kind of accepted this state of perpetual non-wellness as part of life. And I suppose spending the last three weekends sleeping on the floor of my best friends' house hasn't helped much.

2) It feels like an eternal Monday. You know that peculiar feeling that Mondays have? The one that Garfield isn't fond of? I have been experiencing that almost everyday for the last few weeks, weekends excluded. It hasn't been fun and it does nothing to improve my outlook on life.

3) My procrastination demon has returned. I didn't expect him to stay away long. And he is back with a vengeance. I realize that personifying my predilection for procrastination is a way to absolve myself of blame, but it helps me cope with my personality flaws. At this time, I am unsure if I will be able to fight him off again but I'm going to damn well try.

rory! nooooo!

4) As expected, the Ponds broke my heart. I am of course referring to the former companions of Doctor Who. They have left the show and did so in classic Steven Moffat fashion. That bastard. He's just so damn good at toying with my emotions. I am not ashamed to admit that I was sobbing by then end of the episode. While I wasn't that attached to Amy, Rory was one of my favorites and I will miss him almost as much as I miss the tenth doctor.

5) Worknik's word of the day today was crapehanger. Sometimes it seems as though Wordnik chooses its word of the day with me specifically in mind. Because this word just fit how I was feeling this morning and it prompted me to write this post. In fact, I think it deserves Post Title status.

crapehanger n. A morose, gloomy, or pessimistic person.

To grow from the grass I love

isn't it adorable?

I bought my copy of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass about eight years ago. I purchased this book for three reasons. One, my high school freshman English class had just read a selection of his work. Two, I had just seen Dead Poets Society for the first time. And three, it was $2 in the bargain section at Barnes and Noble.

When I brought it home, I read a few poems but it quickly ended up sitting on one of my bookshelves where it gathered dust for a few years. Then I saw a movie that became one of my all time favorites: the 1942 classic Now, Voyager. Not only did the picture cement my love for both Bette Davis and Paul Henreid, but it also rekindled my interest in Mr. Whitman's work. The title is taken from one of his poems. It's a short little thing. Only two lines. But I know them by heart.

The untold want by life and land ne'er granted
Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find.

It was after seeing this movie that I picked up Whitman's book again. And this time I fell in love. I loved the way his poems seemed more like random strings of thought carelessly woven together and less like painstaking planned out lines of verse. And nothing was off the table for this man. He wrote about the mundane parts of life but also the ethereal and the marvelous aspects of living on this earth. His poems about love were so much more that simple love poems. They were about people, places, himself. This man loved everything. Through his words, I could feel what he felt. It was one of the first times that poetry had actually moved me.

The soul,
Forever and forever - longer than soil is brown and solid - longer than water ebbs and flows.
I will make the poems of materials, for I think they are to be the most spiritual poems,
And I will make the poems of my body and of mortality,
For I think I shall then supply myself with the poems of my soul and of immortality.

So when I ventured off to college, I brought my little tome with me. (along with my copies of Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, and Kiss of the Night) It wasn't until my sophomore year that I started taking English courses where we actually analyzed and assessed literature. I don't remember which class and I don't even remember which professor, but Walt Whitman was eventually mentioned. It was inevitable really. I was completely expecting it. What I wasn't expecting was the impact it would have on me.

I find I can no longer read Leaves of Grass the way I used to. The words no longer dance around in my head. They are as flat as the page they've been printed on. It's as if the life has been sucked out of Whitman's  poems.

Reading these poems at a high school level is one thing. Reading them at a college level is entirely different. In high school, they were merely introducing us to them. Saying, "Hi, how are ya? People think I'm pretty neat. Maybe you should look me up sometime, check me out for yourself." In college, they were dissected right in front of me, like they do the frogs in science class. Picking them apart, comparing them to other specimens.

And now I'm making it sound as if my time spent as an English major was terrible. It wasn't really. I enjoyed analyzing, criticizing, discussing literature. The majority of the time I found it to be exhilarating and fascinating. It's just that Leaves of Grass was so personal to me, it was difficult to listen to what the "experts" had to say about it.

So now I'm left with a flat, emotionless collection of poems that once upon a time inspired me. Perhaps if I give it time, the effects of those classes will wear off and I can once again read Leaves of Grass through my own eyes and not some scholar's.

He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.

No Introspection Before 10 AM

I stayed up way too late last night. A common mistake with the usual consequences. Woke up with just a half hour to get ready for class. Thank the good lord I had the foresight to shower the night before. And so here I am in General Psychology on time. Actually I'm five minutes early. On my short walk here I had some time to think. It's something I usually do when walking. Only problem is sometimes I travel down roads I didn't mean to (both physical and metaphorical) when I let my mind wander.

The first thing I thought as I stepped out the door and into the brisk morning was,"Damn. Colder than anticipated." And so I cursed myself for not thinking to grab a jacket. Then I cursed the guy in the red van for not yielding to pedestrians. I rolled my eyes as I passed a parked car that had paint on its back window declaring, "LOVE YOU" with a little heart and all. How cynical am I? But I quickly rationalized this by thinking I'm not cynical, I'm just not into cliches like these.

And then in the space of a time in takes me to walk one block, I went through an lengthy inner monologue, criticizing myself for always rationalizing and then defending myself by reassuring myself that I am only human and then again I criticize myself for making excuses yet again. Look at where making excuses has gotten me. Look at where my life is. This is not where I want to be at this point in my life. (both physically and metaphorically) This line of thought continues on and on and goes way too deep for 7:30 am. And so, not three minutes later, I arrive at class in tiff. Because I am lacking sleep and because I've just had some personal revelations way too early in the morning that will probably prove useless by noon.

My Room Smells Like Coffee and Incense

This summer has been a little hellish for me. I didn't accomplish much of anything. But I survived, so I'm counting that as a win. Now the end is in sight and a new beginning lies just over the horizon. Things will be very different this year. That leaves me feeling more than a little nervous, but also cautiously optimistic.

Now I feel like sharing a few things that got me through these endless days:

1. Cinnamon Coffee

After an entire year of consuming Cinnamon Roll Lattes almost daily via Java City, I was more than a little lost without them. But halfway through the summer I came up with the inspiring idea of adding a pinch of cinnamon to my regular coffee. I know, I know. This idea should have been much more obvious. Trust me, I hit myself in the head like those folks in the V8 commercials used to do when the realization finally came to me. And it turns out, adding cinnamon to coffee has unforeseen benefits.

2. Doctor Who

a big ball of wibbly wobbly time-y wimey stuff

The first episode I ever saw of Doctor Who was "Blink" way back when I was probably about 16. I remember thinking, "What is this delicious piece of science fiction?" Ever since then, the show has been on my to do list. At the beginning of this summer, I finally got around to watching the series. Now I am an unapologetic Whovian and a big fan of anything David Tennant does. Also, I finally have something to talk about with my brother.

3.  Historical Murder Mysteries

Over the past few years I have developed a liking for a very certain type of novel: historical fiction that features a female detective. It has all the fun a your average historical fiction murder mystery with the added element of the struggle of a women to escape the shackles of a repressed society. Watching these characters begin to ask questions that ladies of quality ought naught ask and then learn to navigate the treacherous waters of the underbelly of polite society provides hours of entertainment. Grisly murders, depraved villains, intrepid detectives, French spies, and mad kings. What more could you ask for?

4. Cardigans

Even with this 90+ degree weather, I still wear a cardigan almost everyday. In my defense, I live in the basement and it gets really cold when the air conditioner is on. Besides, I never feel more like myself than when I am wearing one of my favorite cardigans.

Super

I've been thinking about superheroes. More specifically, what kind of superpowers I would like to have if I were to become a superhero. I've narrowed it down to two.
One option is telekinesis because A) I’m kinda lazy and B) that one scene in Matilda when she’s dancing around in the living room and making all the cards and poker chips fly around…I’ve always wanted to do that.
Otherwise I'd pick time control. But I wouldn't want to go back and change anything. I've read my Ray Bradbury. I ain't stepping on no butterfly and bringing back the dinosaurs. I would just want to go back and watch history happen. I’d probably start with ancient Greece. Because those guys kind of invented western civilization. It'd be kinda cool to see how they worked that out. But I wouldn't want my presence to change history. I’d still like to interact with the world and ask people questions. How cool would it be to have dinner with Mark Twain or Leonardo da Vinci? Of course then I'd need to learn Italian... Maybe I should just get a TARDIS. Problem solved.
Oh! I'd also like to freeze time and maybe mess with people a little. Stop everything and move some things around. Of course I wouldn't be too villainous. I would use my powers for good and only minimal personal gain.
I don't think I'd want to be able to travel into the future though. Obviously it would be the most profitable part of time travel. You just pop forward a bit, see the winning lotto numbers and bam! Pay dirt. But if I were to foresee a tragedy I would feel compelled to stop it. And I feel like that would messing with fate a bit too much.

What then would my superhero name be? Well that would depend on what power I had. That's how most of them get their names anyway. Like The Green Lantern has his green lantern. And Iron Man has his iron suit. Batman has his whole bat thing. And Spider-Man, and so on and so forth.
Then what about Superman? Eh. I feel like naming him Superman was kind lazy, you know? But he was one of the first superheroes so I guess that’s okay then. Mr. Fantastic, however, has no excuse. But then again, what would you name a superhero with elastic limbs and not have it sound completely lame? Or sexual? You could call him Rubber Man. That’d be kinky.
But just consider the X-Men. Wolverine. He looks like a wolverine with his claws and his funky hairdo. Storm with her whole weather thing. Cyclops with his special eyes. Magneto, Beast, Iceman. They make sense. The only one I never understood was Rogue. But again, what would you name someone with the power to drain others of their powers? Drain-o Girl? I bet you’d love to have her clean your pipes.

Keep in mind, dear reader, that I’m just going off the movies. I adore superhero movies. I never got into the actual comic books. How could I? It wasn’t like there were any local comic book stores I could just walk to on a Saturday afternoon. So where I would I get them? I did watch some of the cartoons. I remember watching Batman, Spider-Man and the X-Men when I was a kid. Grew out of that pretty quickly though. But this trend of over-the-top superhero movies? I love it. I'm just dying to see The Avengers and I cannot wait for The Dark Knight Rises. The latest Spider-Man reboot, however, I can take or leave. The trailers don't look too promising to me. So I'll most likely leave it.

Nine Things About Jamie

No essential information. Just random facts. About me. Enjoy.

I like to use the word delicious and apply it to things that are not food. Like books or movies. Such as, The Gargoyle is a delicious book. Or Sherlock Holmes is delicious movie, for several reasons.

On a normal day, it takes at least three alarms to wake me up in the morning. Sometimes more. Usually more. I’m not really one for rising and shining. It’s not my thing.

I am a huge fan of new jack swing. I have always loved it and I probably always will, even though that genre of music is no longer in vogue. (and if you get that pun, you’re my hero)

I like the word ‘druthers.’ Don’t know why. I just do. It’s not my favorite word, but I do enjoy it when people use it everyday conversations and I wish people did so more often. I especially enjoy it when people use it correctly.

I am a bit of a grammar freak. I wouldn’t say I’m up to the level of a grammar-nazi, but I do greatly enjoy it when people use their/there and your/you’re correctly in written forms communication. It turns me on. A misplaced comma or a run on sentence or two don’t bother me. It’s the simple things that get me. Like if people use seen/saw incorrectly, it physically hurts me to hear it. I don’t usually correct people when speaking to them. I just wince and cry a little on the inside.

When I’m cleaning, I listen to Giants of the Big Band Era. Les Brown, Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey. These are my guys. They help me focus. I can sway as I dust and polish.

I am not afraid of spiders. I’m not particularly fond of them. But if I see one, even a big fat hairy one, I’m like BAM! Squished, dead. Not with my bare hand though. That’d be gross. But I am terrified of centipedes. Anything with more than eight legs freaks me right out. Even thinking about those little bastards makes my skin crawl.

My favorite actress, well one of my favorite actress, of the Golden Era of Hollywood is Ida Lupino. She was just amazing. Stunning, brilliant, talented, beautiful, awesome. And while she was quite famous in her time, her name has not stood the test of time like some of her contemporaries. This is unfortunate because she was amazing, in case I hadn't already mentioned that. And, quick history lesson, she was one of the first female directors in Hollywood and the first woman to direct a film noir. So she was kind of badass.

I still remember the first music video I ever saw. I would’ve been about six or seven years old. I walked into the family room to find my older sister was watching VH1, a channel I was not allowed to watch at that age. But I sat down and watched anyway. Torn by Natalie Imbruglia was playing. And this was my introduction to music television. As a bonus, the second music video I ever saw was Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden.