I am mere minutes away from three honking episodes of TRUE BLOOD.
I've been saving them because I didn't want the frustration of one measly episode. 55 paltry minutes after waiting a whole year? That shit don't satisfy.
Tattoo Queen said the first ep does a mighty, mighty fanservice to those who love the Viking vampire. I'm on pins and needles.
The anticipation is almost painful at this point and wasn't helped by yet another EW bullseye with Eric in the middle. How they love torturing me.
But now? I think it's time.
Monday, June 28, 2010
THE GIRL- you know the one
I put THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO down after 60 odd pages. The only reasons I picked it up again were that my sister Beth told me to give it another try and I saw a student reading it in class.
Ain't no way a student is going to read a book that I can't finish.
Maybe the normal chaos of the year's ending or the slow build-up in the book made me lay it aside. I don't usually give up on books. I just finished a wretched urban fantasy that could only be tolerated by skimming huge chunks.
A mere six or seven pages after where I left off and the story started getting good. And proceeded to get better and better until I kicked myself for waiting so long to read the book.
I heart Lisbeth Salandar in a million ways.
I finished THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE tonight, and as much as I was screaming in my head at the events that unfolded, I found myself putting the book down so I could tidy up the room, watch an episode of SUPERNATURAL, and eat a sandwich. I wanted to stretch those last 150 pages out.
I love a kickass, flawed heroine. I like Blomkvist because he's a decent guy and he cares for Lisbeth, but he's pretty weak (which is not to say he's a puss. He's much too determined and stalwart for milquetoast). It's Lisbeth's sections where the story really takes off.
I read a complaint about the product placement in another blog, but I think it's kind of cute how precise Larsson is with the brand names.
I'm going to start HORNET'S NEST tomorrow. I'll have to stretch that one out because it's the last one. Whenever I think of the author, I'm glad for his success, but pissed beyond reason that he died so young.
Ain't no way a student is going to read a book that I can't finish.
Maybe the normal chaos of the year's ending or the slow build-up in the book made me lay it aside. I don't usually give up on books. I just finished a wretched urban fantasy that could only be tolerated by skimming huge chunks.
A mere six or seven pages after where I left off and the story started getting good. And proceeded to get better and better until I kicked myself for waiting so long to read the book.
I heart Lisbeth Salandar in a million ways.
I finished THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE tonight, and as much as I was screaming in my head at the events that unfolded, I found myself putting the book down so I could tidy up the room, watch an episode of SUPERNATURAL, and eat a sandwich. I wanted to stretch those last 150 pages out.
I love a kickass, flawed heroine. I like Blomkvist because he's a decent guy and he cares for Lisbeth, but he's pretty weak (which is not to say he's a puss. He's much too determined and stalwart for milquetoast). It's Lisbeth's sections where the story really takes off.
I read a complaint about the product placement in another blog, but I think it's kind of cute how precise Larsson is with the brand names.
I'm going to start HORNET'S NEST tomorrow. I'll have to stretch that one out because it's the last one. Whenever I think of the author, I'm glad for his success, but pissed beyond reason that he died so young.
KISS KISS BANG BANG- lame review
My sister recommended KISS KISS BANG BANG to me and was surprised I hadn't seen it since I love me some RDJ.
Correction: I love older RDJ. Young RDJ does nothing for me.
I loved the movie. It was witty and noirish and my sweet baboo got the shit knocked out of him several times (in keeping with the Spade and Marlow tradition). The chemistry between him and Val Kilmer (who was wicked funny) was surprising: it absolutely sparkled.
When the movie was over, I started watching it with the commentary on. The chemistry between RDJ and Kilmer wasn't as bubbly, but the writer/director (Shane Black? I'm going to have to check imdb) pulled no punches about what worked and didn't work in the movie.
It made me sad that all three of them acknowledged that the movie was a box office failure. I put the blame squarely on the PR guys. I would've loved to have seen that movie in the theater, but I didn't hear about it until my sister told me. I read movie blogs, take my weekly injection of EW, and listen to students when they talk about flicks, but this one passed me by.
I hope it becomes a cult hit because it's really an enjoyable two hours.
Correction: I love older RDJ. Young RDJ does nothing for me.
I loved the movie. It was witty and noirish and my sweet baboo got the shit knocked out of him several times (in keeping with the Spade and Marlow tradition). The chemistry between him and Val Kilmer (who was wicked funny) was surprising: it absolutely sparkled.
When the movie was over, I started watching it with the commentary on. The chemistry between RDJ and Kilmer wasn't as bubbly, but the writer/director (Shane Black? I'm going to have to check imdb) pulled no punches about what worked and didn't work in the movie.
It made me sad that all three of them acknowledged that the movie was a box office failure. I put the blame squarely on the PR guys. I would've loved to have seen that movie in the theater, but I didn't hear about it until my sister told me. I read movie blogs, take my weekly injection of EW, and listen to students when they talk about flicks, but this one passed me by.
I hope it becomes a cult hit because it's really an enjoyable two hours.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
EASY VIRTUE lame review
EASY VIRTUE arrived at the house, and I forgot the reason I netflixed it or even what drew me to it. Then I read the postage stamp summary on the flap. Colin Firth. Set in the twenties.
Gotcha.
The movie sucked. I liked Colin Firth (how can I not when his Darcy and my Darcy are now clones of each other?), the costumes and sets were nice, and I thought it was cute that the soundtrack featured covers of contemporary music set to jazzy beats.
The plot was paper thin. The characters were two dimensional at best, and I didn't know what the hell to make of Jessica Biehl. I never know what to make of her. She doesn't seem like a real actress, more like a little girl in her mother's clothes.
I think SEVENTH HEAVEN ruined her for me. She could become Meryl Streep wrapped in Helen Mirren dipped in Robin Wright, and I'd still be scratching my head at her performance.
Tangent: The actress who played the Camden mother (I forget her name and am too lazy to imdb) was also in STAR TREK IV. I love the search for the whales, but she gave the most howling bad reading of a line in the entire universe. Her reading was so bad, I used to recite it to my friends because the ineptitude of it was a comfort. Her character, a whale scientist, explains to Kirk that the two humpbacks are going to be taken away from her aquarium/research center. She's supposed to be heartbroken, but she finishes up her speech with a wooden "That, as they say, is that." It's awful.
I don't mind two-dimensional characters, but the flatness of EASY VIRTUE's population flew right up my nose. I kind of like the ending. I'd been thinking it'd be nice for the movie to end in a certain way; however, the ending I wanted wasn't reasonable. Lo and behold, the writers agreed with me, and the unreasonable, but kind of pleasing, ending occurred.
It wasn't enough to make me like the movie.
Gotcha.
The movie sucked. I liked Colin Firth (how can I not when his Darcy and my Darcy are now clones of each other?), the costumes and sets were nice, and I thought it was cute that the soundtrack featured covers of contemporary music set to jazzy beats.
The plot was paper thin. The characters were two dimensional at best, and I didn't know what the hell to make of Jessica Biehl. I never know what to make of her. She doesn't seem like a real actress, more like a little girl in her mother's clothes.
I think SEVENTH HEAVEN ruined her for me. She could become Meryl Streep wrapped in Helen Mirren dipped in Robin Wright, and I'd still be scratching my head at her performance.
Tangent: The actress who played the Camden mother (I forget her name and am too lazy to imdb) was also in STAR TREK IV. I love the search for the whales, but she gave the most howling bad reading of a line in the entire universe. Her reading was so bad, I used to recite it to my friends because the ineptitude of it was a comfort. Her character, a whale scientist, explains to Kirk that the two humpbacks are going to be taken away from her aquarium/research center. She's supposed to be heartbroken, but she finishes up her speech with a wooden "That, as they say, is that." It's awful.
I don't mind two-dimensional characters, but the flatness of EASY VIRTUE's population flew right up my nose. I kind of like the ending. I'd been thinking it'd be nice for the movie to end in a certain way; however, the ending I wanted wasn't reasonable. Lo and behold, the writers agreed with me, and the unreasonable, but kind of pleasing, ending occurred.
It wasn't enough to make me like the movie.
The math and the writing
I read a bunch of author blogs, and the thing that never fails to put glass in my head is when they start talking about how much they write during any given day, probably every day including holidays and birthdays.
Anything under 1000 isn't worth mentioning. 2000 is twinkie writing. They can whip out novels in a couple of weeks, and since their rough drafts are spank-my-ass-and-call-me-Sunday clean, they don't have to labor over revisions.
God love them and more power to them.
On a good day I can do 3000 (I admit the sirens of movies, Minesweeper, and internet seduce me plenty), but while I was scoffing at my output (while patting myself on the back that thing 1 is halfway to completion), I had a realization: if I could do 3000 two hundred days a year, by the time January hit, I'd be the proud owner of 600,000 words.
Eight novels and change or 20 novellas.
Clearly my challenge isn't my daily output, but the fact that I don't freaking write often enough. Even half the amount (1500) would still bring four novels or 10 novellas.
What is wrong with me? One, I like to stick glass in my head. Two, I need to write more often.
Anything under 1000 isn't worth mentioning. 2000 is twinkie writing. They can whip out novels in a couple of weeks, and since their rough drafts are spank-my-ass-and-call-me-Sunday clean, they don't have to labor over revisions.
God love them and more power to them.
On a good day I can do 3000 (I admit the sirens of movies, Minesweeper, and internet seduce me plenty), but while I was scoffing at my output (while patting myself on the back that thing 1 is halfway to completion), I had a realization: if I could do 3000 two hundred days a year, by the time January hit, I'd be the proud owner of 600,000 words.
Eight novels and change or 20 novellas.
Clearly my challenge isn't my daily output, but the fact that I don't freaking write often enough. Even half the amount (1500) would still bring four novels or 10 novellas.
What is wrong with me? One, I like to stick glass in my head. Two, I need to write more often.
Friday, June 25, 2010
A golden friendship
Lani Diane Rich wrote the sweetest tribute to Jennifer Crusie in this month's RWA journal. She gave props to Crusie's role as a teacher and mentor, but what really hit my heart was her homage to their friendship.
I've been thinking about friendship, largely because I watched Toy Story 2 last night with the nephews (not that El Destructo was watching- oh no, not when there was havoc to be wreaking). Those toys would stop at nothing to rescue Woody; come hell or high, they would get him back.
AND THEY'RE TOYS! They're not meant for the real world; they're fragile and nineteen blocks is a really huge distance when you have little plastic legs.
Tangent: a testament to the power of story in that movie- Woody and Jesse are in the plane, and he says, "We'll go on a count of three...One, two-" The cargo door slams shut. I actually felt a dread that they wouldn't be able to escape and would be stuck on the plane. Even though I saw the movie before.
So I was cursing the fact that my closest friend lives three thousand miles away and I have no kindred spirit at work.
When I read Rich's article, I envied her friendship (but in a good way). She and Crusie met at a conference and the friendship ball started rolling from there.
I have to say, going to a conference and meeting a person who turns out to be a bestie is one of my favorite fantasies. I dream of doing that.
Never mind that I'm introverted and have to be pretty damn comfortable to approach a stranger.
Yes, I've made out with strangers before, but that was usually bolstered by liquid courage or a full moon that had me feeling reckless. It's not like I can approach a favorite author smelling like a distillery or shoving my tongue down her throat.
Still I like hearing stories of friendships and I like having my fantasy. It wouldn't be the craziest thing if it came true.
I've been thinking about friendship, largely because I watched Toy Story 2 last night with the nephews (not that El Destructo was watching- oh no, not when there was havoc to be wreaking). Those toys would stop at nothing to rescue Woody; come hell or high, they would get him back.
AND THEY'RE TOYS! They're not meant for the real world; they're fragile and nineteen blocks is a really huge distance when you have little plastic legs.
Tangent: a testament to the power of story in that movie- Woody and Jesse are in the plane, and he says, "We'll go on a count of three...One, two-" The cargo door slams shut. I actually felt a dread that they wouldn't be able to escape and would be stuck on the plane. Even though I saw the movie before.
So I was cursing the fact that my closest friend lives three thousand miles away and I have no kindred spirit at work.
When I read Rich's article, I envied her friendship (but in a good way). She and Crusie met at a conference and the friendship ball started rolling from there.
I have to say, going to a conference and meeting a person who turns out to be a bestie is one of my favorite fantasies. I dream of doing that.
Never mind that I'm introverted and have to be pretty damn comfortable to approach a stranger.
Yes, I've made out with strangers before, but that was usually bolstered by liquid courage or a full moon that had me feeling reckless. It's not like I can approach a favorite author smelling like a distillery or shoving my tongue down her throat.
Still I like hearing stories of friendships and I like having my fantasy. It wouldn't be the craziest thing if it came true.
The first of my two things
I've had an idea kicking around my head for a while and decided it'd be the first of my writing.
I hadn't written in lo these many shameful months, and it's a horrible feeling. I don't know the reason I get incredibly down and delinquent on my writing. It's weird. I start to feel as if anything I type will be cursed, and my computer will spontaneously vomit and explode if I open a Word doc.
Stoopid.
But I started writing my thing (the first of two!) this week, and my computer didn't react negatively.
It took a bunch of coaxing and cajoling and cursing for me to finally get my AIS (don't ask me how many games it took to get my Minesweeper score to 18%), but I did.
I think my promise of a sex scene was what got me to my goal today.
Which was strange because yesterday I was talking to my characters inside my head (because actually talking to them would be too odd) and pleading with them to let me get to know them. Then today I say, "Aha, you will have the sexxing!"
Kind of rude to do to people I've been ignoring for a long time.
Once again, I forgot how could it felt to write. I forgot how it makes the day and the upcoming days seem golden. I don't know why I let myself give up this pleasure.
That's the kicker. I do it to myself. No one forces me to forgo my writing.
Ah well...I'll chalk it up to thanatos and try to avoid the pitfall for a while.
I hadn't written in lo these many shameful months, and it's a horrible feeling. I don't know the reason I get incredibly down and delinquent on my writing. It's weird. I start to feel as if anything I type will be cursed, and my computer will spontaneously vomit and explode if I open a Word doc.
Stoopid.
But I started writing my thing (the first of two!) this week, and my computer didn't react negatively.
It took a bunch of coaxing and cajoling and cursing for me to finally get my AIS (don't ask me how many games it took to get my Minesweeper score to 18%), but I did.
I think my promise of a sex scene was what got me to my goal today.
Which was strange because yesterday I was talking to my characters inside my head (because actually talking to them would be too odd) and pleading with them to let me get to know them. Then today I say, "Aha, you will have the sexxing!"
Kind of rude to do to people I've been ignoring for a long time.
Once again, I forgot how could it felt to write. I forgot how it makes the day and the upcoming days seem golden. I don't know why I let myself give up this pleasure.
That's the kicker. I do it to myself. No one forces me to forgo my writing.
Ah well...I'll chalk it up to thanatos and try to avoid the pitfall for a while.
The darling nephews
My sister Emma dropped the boys off last night to celebrate my niece's birthday with my sister Beth and my mom. I felt like staying home.
The Little Cat Burglar was great. He found some plastic Easter eggs in the closet and we took turns hiding them. I indoctrinated him into the wonders of "Warmer, you're getting warmer...No, you're getting colder," which is a weird concept when you think about it. When his turn to hide the eggs came, he was too excited to watch me look for them and ended up going after them himself.
His little brother- I hereby christen him El Destructo- was like a hurricane. While Le Chat and I hid eggs, El Destructo was in the kitchen emptying out the cabinets. I saw him running into the other room and figured he was up to no good. Sure enough, he had opened a container of brown sugar and dumped it on the floor.
He's also started chucking objects at people. And it hurts- especially since he has a sixth sense about zeroing on tender spots.
My sister keeps asking if he'll grow out of it (he is in the twos), and I tend to think so.
Actually, I'm thinking his destructive tendencies will become less overt. He might become El Destructo on the sly, and heaven help us all if that happens.
The Little Cat Burglar was great. He found some plastic Easter eggs in the closet and we took turns hiding them. I indoctrinated him into the wonders of "Warmer, you're getting warmer...No, you're getting colder," which is a weird concept when you think about it. When his turn to hide the eggs came, he was too excited to watch me look for them and ended up going after them himself.
His little brother- I hereby christen him El Destructo- was like a hurricane. While Le Chat and I hid eggs, El Destructo was in the kitchen emptying out the cabinets. I saw him running into the other room and figured he was up to no good. Sure enough, he had opened a container of brown sugar and dumped it on the floor.
He's also started chucking objects at people. And it hurts- especially since he has a sixth sense about zeroing on tender spots.
My sister keeps asking if he'll grow out of it (he is in the twos), and I tend to think so.
Actually, I'm thinking his destructive tendencies will become less overt. He might become El Destructo on the sly, and heaven help us all if that happens.
Summer begins
I was actually blogging in my head all week, but decided that I'd drive myself up the wall if I didn't get some of these thoughts down.
I wanted to do a big honking reflection on my school year, but I don't have any particular pearls of wisdom.
Some of it sucked. Some of it was stellar.
A great capper to the year was the e-mail from a student's father. He said I made a difference and he appreciated it. I tell you what, that's a keeper.
I did generate some goals for myself during these two months:
1. I want to write at least two things. They don't have to be revised by August, but they both should have "The End" in the appropriate place.
2. I want to raise my score at Minesweeper to 20%. I'm not proud of this goal, but it's hatched in my brain and won't leave.
3. I want to spend less time dicking around on the internet. Blogging and reading blogs don't bother me as much as being caught in the sinkhole that is TVtropes or combing through the archives of my favorite blogs. I need to stop doing that.
The free time stretching before me freaks me out a bit. Not that I'm saying I don't want the time (HEAVEN FORFEND), I just want to be worthy of this time.
I wanted to do a big honking reflection on my school year, but I don't have any particular pearls of wisdom.
Some of it sucked. Some of it was stellar.
A great capper to the year was the e-mail from a student's father. He said I made a difference and he appreciated it. I tell you what, that's a keeper.
I did generate some goals for myself during these two months:
1. I want to write at least two things. They don't have to be revised by August, but they both should have "The End" in the appropriate place.
2. I want to raise my score at Minesweeper to 20%. I'm not proud of this goal, but it's hatched in my brain and won't leave.
3. I want to spend less time dicking around on the internet. Blogging and reading blogs don't bother me as much as being caught in the sinkhole that is TVtropes or combing through the archives of my favorite blogs. I need to stop doing that.
The free time stretching before me freaks me out a bit. Not that I'm saying I don't want the time (HEAVEN FORFEND), I just want to be worthy of this time.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Friday Night Affliction
This week's been heavy on the teacher insomnia and nightmares. I don't know what's percolating in my subconscious, but it's wreaking havoc on my sleep.
Friday was the apex. I came home from school and an hour into my weekend was driving myself up the wall. I had a jittery feeling under my skin that made me want to rip off my arms and throw them out the window. Nothing seemed right and nothing seemed interesting. Didn't want to watch a movie or TV. Didn't want to read, despite having THE PASSAGE (first book on my summer reading list). Didn't want to talk to anyone or go out.
I went from TV to book to computer to internet and started the cycle again when my attention wouldn't stick. The best part of the night was that it did eventually come to an end.
Friday was the apex. I came home from school and an hour into my weekend was driving myself up the wall. I had a jittery feeling under my skin that made me want to rip off my arms and throw them out the window. Nothing seemed right and nothing seemed interesting. Didn't want to watch a movie or TV. Didn't want to read, despite having THE PASSAGE (first book on my summer reading list). Didn't want to talk to anyone or go out.
I went from TV to book to computer to internet and started the cycle again when my attention wouldn't stick. The best part of the night was that it did eventually come to an end.
The average student
I've come across some blame-the-teachers comments, and they've flown right up my nice and made a nest there.
I read Dear Author and Smart Bitches on a regular basis. DA commenters usually don't bash teachers, but for some reason the commenters on Smart Bitches feel free to zing educators on a semi-regular basis.
The comments come in two flavors:
1. Don't they teach anything in school?
2. I was a special snowflake and I had a mean teacher who didn't recognize my uniqueness even though I was smarter than him or her.
Makes me want to scream.
The people who read those blogs are not representative of the population. If you're reading a blog about reading and writing, chances are books are important to you. That's not so for the majority of people. I don't think it ever was true for a majority during any given time.
The truth about the average student is that s/he is not a strong reader or writer. The average student will probably misspell receive and definitely and mix up their, there, and they're- along with to and too and your and you're.
They tend to summarize and have trouble working with themes even if they're given concepts to use. Concepts and skills need to be retaught and reviewed every year. And it's not as if the students are happy to be doing grammar and academic writing. I end up making the same comments on papers throughout the year until- if I'm lucky- something clicks within them and they put what they've been learning into play.
I just corrected a batch of exams. The students received the essay prompts a week ahead of time, had a class to review, and could ask me questions.
One prompt asked for the students to discuss two texts. One student wrote an essay analyzing only one text despite the examples and support I gave in class. Talking about one text = automatic F.
This student is an average student. This is what average students do sometimes.
Please tell me how her mistake was my fault. Please tell me what I could have done to prevent this. Please tell me how my effectiveness as a teacher is tied to the performance of a student who can't follow directions and somehow disconnected herself from my expectations.
I read Dear Author and Smart Bitches on a regular basis. DA commenters usually don't bash teachers, but for some reason the commenters on Smart Bitches feel free to zing educators on a semi-regular basis.
The comments come in two flavors:
1. Don't they teach anything in school?
2. I was a special snowflake and I had a mean teacher who didn't recognize my uniqueness even though I was smarter than him or her.
Makes me want to scream.
The people who read those blogs are not representative of the population. If you're reading a blog about reading and writing, chances are books are important to you. That's not so for the majority of people. I don't think it ever was true for a majority during any given time.
The truth about the average student is that s/he is not a strong reader or writer. The average student will probably misspell receive and definitely and mix up their, there, and they're- along with to and too and your and you're.
They tend to summarize and have trouble working with themes even if they're given concepts to use. Concepts and skills need to be retaught and reviewed every year. And it's not as if the students are happy to be doing grammar and academic writing. I end up making the same comments on papers throughout the year until- if I'm lucky- something clicks within them and they put what they've been learning into play.
I just corrected a batch of exams. The students received the essay prompts a week ahead of time, had a class to review, and could ask me questions.
One prompt asked for the students to discuss two texts. One student wrote an essay analyzing only one text despite the examples and support I gave in class. Talking about one text = automatic F.
This student is an average student. This is what average students do sometimes.
Please tell me how her mistake was my fault. Please tell me what I could have done to prevent this. Please tell me how my effectiveness as a teacher is tied to the performance of a student who can't follow directions and somehow disconnected herself from my expectations.
End (of school) is near
I always forget how batshit crazy everybody gets this time of year: teachers, students, administrators- every person in the building loses it.
You'd think we'd be able to take a deep breath, give ourselves a pat on the back, and chill the hell out.
The ink and paper shortages haven't helped anything. People are hoarding paper and the administration is sending e-mails telling us to use the remaining reams sparingly...with finals a few days away.
It's funny because this is the same administration that won't let us put assignments online, which would save a shit-ton of paper and insists on study guides.
I looked at the frenzy and said fuck it. I bought four bundles of my own and hid them in my room. I wanted to get a jump on the beginning of next year and knew I'd be burned at the stake if anyone found out.
I can't even reflect on the year; my mind's on getting my shit done and heading into summer.
You'd think we'd be able to take a deep breath, give ourselves a pat on the back, and chill the hell out.
The ink and paper shortages haven't helped anything. People are hoarding paper and the administration is sending e-mails telling us to use the remaining reams sparingly...with finals a few days away.
It's funny because this is the same administration that won't let us put assignments online, which would save a shit-ton of paper and insists on study guides.
I looked at the frenzy and said fuck it. I bought four bundles of my own and hid them in my room. I wanted to get a jump on the beginning of next year and knew I'd be burned at the stake if anyone found out.
I can't even reflect on the year; my mind's on getting my shit done and heading into summer.
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