don't ask me why: harvey keitel

As previously mentioned, I'm engaged in a strange love affair with Harvey Keitel. Strange because he's not particularly attractive, he seems kinda dirty, and um...he was born in 1939.

I can't explain it. Maybe it's because he's been in some amazing movies, like Reservoir Dogs, Taxi Driver,and Pulp Fiction. He also really stepped out of the box for a romantic role in one of my favorite movies of all time. More recently, in the ultimate highlight of his career, he appeared in a Jay-Z video.

Or maybe because he's the consummate tough-guy-New-Yorker? (After all, I'm a Texan, so what is actually a kinda grating accent and bad manners seems all cool and exotic to me.) He also has good tastes in women; he was involved with Lorraine Bracco, of The Sopranos and Goodfellas fame and a walking stereotype in her own right, for over a decade.

Not to mention he made one of my favorite commercials ever:



So why, do you ask? Oh, I don't know. After all, you can't choose who you love.

my underwhelming post-oscar special

So the Oscars were okay. I mean, I never really enjoy them as much as I think I'm going to. But there were a few really fabulous moments.

For instance, I usually don't laugh out loud during awards shows. But here's the exception:





And, of course I loved Anne Hathaway and James Franco's opening montage. They weren't stellar hosts, but I enjoyed them. Anne Hathaway is really a pleasure to watch - She seems like she'd be fun to hang out with. Franco is nice to look at but...eh.

And yay, yay, yay - Colin Firth won Best Actor!  He gave a very gracious and charming acceptance speech. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

My picks for best dressed:

Halle Berry - I LOVE nude colored gowns, especially ones with a little sparkle. Just like this one.

Mila Kunis. I have one word for this gown: Pretty!

Reese Witherspoon. The gown is tasteful, but not stunning. I picked her mostly because I loved her big Texas-style ponytail and green earrings.

Helena Bonham Carter. I love her kookinesss. As much as I loved Halle, Mila, and Reese's styles, I would've been disappointed if Helena showed up looking like them. So I was fond of her dress and her cool shout-out to her homeland.

my underwhelming pre-oscar special

It's Oscar night!!! I don't have any educated predictions. But I do have one very strongly held opinion: Colin Firth needs to win Best Actor. Besides that, whatever.

I am super excited for the red carpet, as always. There are certain celebrities who I really love fashion-wise and am always excited to see what they're wearing. So I will definitely be looking for them tonight! Here they are, in a few my favorite past Academy Award get-ups.

Nicole Kidman:

cool and composed, as always

Cate Blanchett:

lovely in yellow

Angelina Jolie:

loved those green earrings

Gwyneth Paltrow

nearly the same color as my prom dress :)

don't ask me why: hello kitty

After many years of finding Hello Kitty fairly ridiculous, I realized the other day that I actually like it now. How? Not quite sure. It all began around Christmas, when I found some really adorable Hello Kitty ornaments like these:

That kinda set the whole thing off for me...I mean, aren't they stinkin' cute? I now have several Hello Kitty knickknacks and I just keep loving it more and more. Am I going through some kind of bizarre second childhood? All I know is that I will draw the line at actual Hello Kitty clothing...aside from the pajama pants I already own, of course. I think I'm gonna stick to cute little accessories.

My wishlist items, all which can be fount at sanrio.com:

4G Designer USB Flash Drive: "Nerd"

Key Ring: "Rhinestone White"

Stapler: "Candy Bow"

Makeup Case (Japan exclusive)

Like I said, don't ask me why. You can't choose who you love. :)

love her: karen armstrong

Everyone needs to be reading Karen Armstrong. She's a former nun who has now dedicated her life to exploring the commonalities between religions - especially the conflict-causing ones (Islam, Christianity, and Judaism). Her most famous work is probably A History of God, in which she examines how all our ideas about God overlap and influence one another, as well as the sociopolitical background for those beliefs.

Her latest project is the Charter for Compassion, which is a document stating that:

• compassion is celebrated in all major religious, spiritual and ethical traditions
• the Golden Rule is our prime duty and cannot be limited to our own political, religious or ethnic group
• therefore, in our divided world, compassion can build common ground 

The Charter is guided and promoted by multi-faith religious leaders around the globe. Well, it's a nice idea isn't it? It's accompanied by her new book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life. Those of you who are familiar with my take on religion can probably understand why I find the Charter and Karen Armstrong's message so appealing.

Here's short video on the subject. It honestly makes me a little teary-eyed. Watch it; you'll be happy you did.

why my ears are smiling this week

Here are the five songs I've been playing on my iPod pretty much non-stop this past week:

1. "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" - James Brown

And after man has made everything he can
You know that man makes money
To buy from other man
This is a man's world
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing
Not one little thing
Without a woman or a girl

2. "My Life" - Billy Joel

They will tell you you can't sleep alone in a strange place
Then they'll tell you you can't sleep with somebody else
But sooner or later you sleep in your own space
Either way it's okay; you wake up with yourself

3. "Both Sides Now" - Joni Mitchell

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions that I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

4. "Dream On" - Aerosmith

The past is gone
It went by like dust to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay 
Yeah, I know nobody knows
Where it comes and where it goes
I know everybody sins
You've got to lose to know how to win







5. "Super Duper Love" - Joss Stone

love it: the piano

The Piano is one of the most eerily beautiful movies I've ever seen. It's the story of a mute pianist (Holly Hunter) who, with her illegitimate daughter (Anna Paquin), moves to 19th-century colonial New Zealand to be the wife of a British farmer (Sam Neil). She begins a bizarre, passionate affair with another man (Harvey Keitel). Intrigue and tragedy, of course, ensue.

A few reasons I love it so much:

• Hunter gives an amazing, Academy-award winning performance without speaking a word. It's also fun to watch nine-year-old Paquin (of True Blood fame) play the role that made her the second youngest Oscar-winner in history.
• It contains one of the most compelling film sequences I have ever seen...And I watch a lot of movies! (Watch it and you'll know exactly which one I'm talking about.)
• Way before Kathryn Bigelow there was Jane Campion, who wrote and directed The Piano and was only the second female director to be nominated for an Academy Award.
• The original score by Michael Nyman ranks among the loveliest ever made. It completely sets the tone for the film and sticks with you long after.
• It triggered my love affair with Harvey Keitel. (Weird, I know.)
• Against all odds, it does have a happy ending. And I'm a sucker for happy endings.

Rent it today. Then tell me what you think! (In case you need further convincing, here's the dated-and-cheesy-yet-wonderful trailer.)

love it: berlin

I think that Berlin might just be one of my favorite places on earth. I wasn't expecting to like it as much as I did. I knew that it's a hotbed of counter-culture weirdness, and it's got a not-always-pleasant history. It doesn't have the fairy-tale prettiness of Munich or the grand beauty of Hamburg. But during my time in Germany, it was probably my favorite city we visited. From visiting the Brandenburg Gate & "Checkpoint Charlie" to enjoying brunch on a sidewalk in the surprisingly-lovely east Berlin to dancing to crazy Euro-pop at a freaky night club to touring the Reichstag to sipping lychee-flavored champagne in a shopping mall of all places, I loved it. The city is chock-full of important, meaningful monuments and a painful past (the Holocaust memorial and the remnants of the Berlin wall come immediately to mind). Berlin bears its scars gracefully. It's gritty & complex & honest, and I like that. A lot.

review: wasted

Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Marya Hornbacher is an amazing read. I (thankfully) have never struggled with an eating disorder, yet I found this memoir completely engrossing. This book has shown me how easily things could have been different had I made just one or two different decisions: Eating disorders are sneaky, long, dark, slippery slopes. Hornbacher very skillfully conveys that frightening message.

I had always been of the opinion that anorexia and bulimia are bizarre, inexplicable behaviors. As you may know, I love me some food. After reading this, however, I can totally see how an intelligent, beautiful, and healthy young woman could just begin to inexplicably self-destruct. That's what makes Hornbacher such a brilliant writer; she makes you relate to her. She doesn't only tell you her story, she sheds light on the devastating social phenomena and helps you understands the psychological roots.

Here's an excerpt, courtesy of the publisher's website:

The bragging was the worst. I hear this in schools all over the country, in cafés and restaurants, in bars, on the Internet, for Pete's sake, on buses, on sidewalks: Women yammering about how little they eat. Oh, I'm Starving, I haven't eaten all day, I think I'll have a great big piece of lettuce, I'm not hungry, I don't like to eat in the morning (in the afternoon, in the evening, on Tuesdays, when my nails aren't painted, when my shin hurts, when it's raining, when it's sunny, on national holidays, after or before 2 A.M.). I heard it in the hospital, that terrible ironic whine from the chapped lips of women starving to death, But I'm not hun-greeee. To hear women tell it, we're never hungry. We live on little Ms. Pac-Man power pellets. Food makes us queasy, food makes us itchy, food is too messy, all I really like to eat is celery. To hear women tell it we're ethereal beings who eat with the greatest distaste, scraping scraps of food between our teeth with our upper lips curled.

For your edification, it's bullshit.

...We lived in a larger world where there is also a sense of hunger and of a lack. We can call it loss of religion, loss of the nuclear family, loss of community, but whatever it is, it has created a deep and insatiable hunger in our collective unconscious. Our perpetual search for something that will be big enough to fill us has led us to a strange idolatry of at once consumption and starvation.We execute "complicated vacillations...between self-worship and self-degradation," the pendulum swinging back and forth, missing the point of balance every time. We know we need, and so we acquire and acquire and eat and eat, past the point of bodily fullness, trying to sate a greater need. Ashamed of this, we turn skeletons into goddesses and look to them as if they might teach us how to not-need.

I'm fond of this memoir primarily for it's valuable social/feminist commentary. It's also a very effective cautionary tale. Hornbacher warns the reader that an eating disorder, like any other kind of addiction, is never something you can completely get over. And, for people like me who had never really spent a lot of time thinking about body image issues in the modern age, it's eye-opening.

Stay healthy and beautiful, girls.

love it: spud ranch

With a name like Spud Ranch, you know this place has to be good. And it is. Casual, inexpensive, big portions, and delicioussss.

It has locations in San Marcos and New Braunfels. I first got hooked when I was as undergrad at Texas State. I went to the NB location for the first time today and am happy to report their second location hasn't lost any of that good mojo.

spicy chicken spud

My favorite menu items? The Cajun spud (andouille sausage, bell peppers, sauteed onions, butter, cheese, & Louisiana hot sauce), the Hot Wing spud (mild Buffalo-style hot wings, butter, cheese and ranch or blue cheese), the Classic (bacon, butter, sour cream, chives), and the fried pickles.

Don't like baked potatoes, weirdo? Well, they have sandwiches, salads and soups. Although you'd be better off going to Jason's Deli for that stuff, because Spud Ranch is all about the taters.

Check it out! 

haterade: gadhafi

Well, "haterade" is a massive understatement. Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi is a nut - We all knew that. And the fact that he's actually trying to blame the unrest in his country on al-Qaida and hallucinogen-spiked coffee (yes, that's right) merely reaffirms the fact that this guy is completely off his rocker. And, worst of all, he's a murderer. We don't know how many he's killed, and probably never will. We do know that he's handing out automatic weapons like candy to his supporters, who he's sent to go terrorize the capital. Yesterday Obama "got tough" by freezing Gadhafi's assets. Meanwhile, anti-government protestors are being picked off by snipers in Tripoli on Gadhafi's orders. Um, yeah, this guy needs to be taken out.

what do women want?

Wow. I am in love with this poem:

"What Do Women Want?"

I want a red dress. 
I want it flimsy and cheap, 
I want it too tight, I want to wear it 
until someone tears it off me. 
I want it sleeveless and backless, 
this dress, so no one has to guess 
what's underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty's and the hardware store 
with all those keys glittering in the window, 
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old 
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers 
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, 
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. 
I want to walk like I'm the only 
woman on earth and I can have my pick. 
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm 
your worst fears about me, 
to show you how little I care about you 
or anything except what 
I want. When I find it, I'll pull that garment 
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body 
to carry me into this world, through 
the birth-cries and the love-cries too, 
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin, 
it'll be the goddamned 
dress they bury me in.

- Kim Addonizio 

if you forget me

I have recently rediscovered my love of poetry.

Pablo Neruda

Now, I will probably never love it as much as I do literature, because I like details: I love knowing about characters, what they're thinking, what they're doing, where they came from, etc. But poetry is intriguing. I like to think of a good poem as literature on steroids, because a good poet can pack a punch as potent as any novelist in a mere few lines. It's pretty amazing. So I've started reading a few poems every night before I go to bed as opposed to only reading a chapter from my book or watching a Glee rerun.

I think I might start sharing a poem with y'all every weekend. It will probably be one that kinda sums up how I'm feeling, and one that I think you may enjoy reading.

Here's a poem from Pablo Neruda, who is quite possibly my favorite poet of all time:

If You Forget Me


I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine. 

- Pablo Neruda


Gorgeous, isn't it?

love it: the history boys

Have you ever seen The History Boys? Well, you should! It's brilliant. It's one of those dialogue-heavy, category-defying British films that I adore so much. (Yes, that's an actual genre if you ask me. Consider it for a moment...You're thinking of a few right now.) The entire movie, in fact, is dialogue - Mainly musings about history, literature, and growing up. You can totally get how it was originally a Broadway play (which I'm now dyyyyying to see!). Here's the trailer: 




And a few of my favorite lines:

History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with the bucket. 

Pass the parcel. That's sometimes all you can do. Take it, feel it and pass it on. Not for me, not for you, but for someone, somewhere, one day. Pass it on, boys. That's the game I want you to learn. Pass it on.


F**k the Ren-ai-ssance! And f**k literature, and Plato, and Michaelangelo, and Oscar Wilde, and all the other shrunken violets you people line up. This is a school, and it isn't normal! 

Now, it's not some happy coming-of-age tale. There's dark moments, there are some uncomfortable realizations, there are some unsettling observations about the nature of education and, yes, history.

See what I mean? Rent it. Today. Now.

FITBF :))

Woohoo! I am having so much fun with Fill in the Blank Friday, which I find on Amy Rene's's blog. Here I gooooo....

I am currently obsessed with Parks and Recreation and Community. They're two of my very favorite shows on television right now - They've actually probably replaced my two former TV obsessions, 30 Rock and The Office, which I still love but not as profoundly as I once did. Hey, it happens.

Today I am relieved because it's Friday! My weeks feel soooo long these days, and Friday and Saturday nights after 8:00 are literally the ONLY times that I can do whatever I want. On Fridays I generally don't go out because I'm too exhausted and want to spend my time vegging, reading what I want, and catching up on my sleep. Can't wait!

The age I am is 23 and the age I feel is 43. I'm a cardigan-wearing, gin-drinking, Elton John-listening, book-club-attending kinda gal. I also think I feel a bit world-wearier and jaded than is strictly healthy for someone my age. (But, wait, isn't that the default psychological state for most twenty-somethings? Maybe I'm not as unique as I thought.)

My favorite place is my front porch. I have a huge, beautiful front porch overlooking green fields, wildflowers, and trees. There's a blue haint ceiling, insanely comfortable chairs, and ceiling fans. I spend a lot of time just sitting, thinking, and reading out there. I especially love watching storms roll in. It's the location of all my Zen moments. The only place that could possibly compare is my parents' front porch, which I love for all the same reasons.

Something I have been procrastinating is cutting my dog's hair. He is a Pomeranian mix that is constantly shedding and whose hair grows at about an inch per minute. It's super expensive to keep him trimmed all the time (I have to take him to a professional groomer because it's just traumatizing for both of us when I attempt to do it), but it's also incredibly gross to constantly be covered in dog hair. So I've gotta do it. I'll call Classy Canines tomorrow...no, Monday. Definitely by Wednesday.

my doggie

The last thing I purchased was a bottle of Cruzan 9 spiced rum on my way home today. (See previous statements about Friday night relaxation and my front porch detox time.)

The thing I love most about my home is how clearly it bears traces of my fabulous grandmother, Billie. (It was her home; she had it built several years before she passed away.) It's full of cool light fixtures, interesting artwork, pieces of stained glass, quirky little knickknacks, and just a lot of very beautiful things. The main feature of the living room is a whole wall of book shelves and a fireplace - Heaven! It's also very open and airy: large windows, high ceilings, neutral walls, tiled floors, tons of light. I absolutely adore it. When I first moved in, I was worried that living there might make me lonely for my grandmother...But it's not like that. It's a lovely and happy place, full of "good energy" just like it was when she was alive. She and I were kindred spirits, and I know she's happy to look down and see that someone is keeping the home fires burning. <3

spinster

Spinster

Now this particular girl
During a ceremonious april walk
With her latest suitor
Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck
By the birds' irregular babel
And the leaves' litter.

By this tumult afflicted, she
Observed her lover's gestures unbalance the air,
His gait stray uneven
Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower;
She judged petals in disarray,
The whole season, sloven.

How she longed for winter then! --
Scrupulously austere in its order
Of white and black
Ice and rock; each sentiment within border,
And heart's frosty discipline
Exact as a snowflake.

But here -- a burgeoning
Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits
Into vulgar motley --
A treason not to be borne; let idiots
Reel giddy in bedlam spring:
She withdrew neatly.

And round her house she set
Such a barricade of barb and check
Against mutinous weather
As no mere insurgent man could hope to break
With curse, fist, threat
Or love, either.

- Sylvia Plath 

This poem by the lovely and tragic Sylvia is one of my new favorites. As some of you know, I'm officially and indefinitely single for the first time in a long time. I was with the same guy on-and-off (overwhelmingly on) for nearly six years. But hey - I taught myself to knit. I taught myself to make pitch-perfect Cajun maque choux. I taught myself to get by on roughly four hours of sleep a night. Now I'm teaching myself the art of solitude.

I like knowing that I can live or work wherever I may choose. I like not having to explain myself or check in with anyone. I like going on a date and not having a care in the world about where it may "be going." I like coming home to a quiet, empty house. Maybe I'm a spinster in the making?

There are worse things.

review: sin in the second city

Sin and the Second City: Madams, Ministers, Playboys, and the Battle for America's Soul, Karen Abbot's book about Chicago's vice district, is the kind of history more people should be reading.

She tells the story of the Everleigh sisters, two of the most successful and notorious madams in the history of the U.S. Their Everleigh Club drew city officials, gamblers, aristocrats, academics, and just about everyone else. The Everleigh girls, who included such characters as Doll, Brick Top, and Diamond Bertha, were unique because they were generally very healthy, happy, and independent. They could recite poetry, talk about the philosophy of Balzac, play the piano, and be 'courtesans' in the full sense of the word as opposed to just...ahem...you-know-whatting. The Everleighs took great pains to educate them and keep them safe.
 But there was plenty of debauchery and straight-up weirdness too: opium eating, devouring raw meat for the pleasure of the customers, and serving champagne in the girls' shoes.

Minna Everleigh

And the madams themselves were quite fascinating: They were resourceful at best, liars at worst. They never really got their stories straight on who they were or where they came from. They were masters of constant reinvention - Something I, too, aspire to be. (But perhaps more like Madonna and less like early 20th century brothel keepers. But I haven't ruled out all my options just yet.) They also held their own against political bosses and jealous, conniving rivals. They were two tough cookies and fun to read about.

Abbot also sheds light on the other side of the culture: The evangelists, reformers, prohibitionists, and others who dedicated their lives to breaking up the party. The Everleigh Club, being the most fashionable, popular, and sought-after, naturally became their primary target. Lammmmeeee. Abbot spends about half the book discussing these characters, too - which I, naturally, found much less interesting. I definitely would've been hanging out with the Everleighs instead of holding some sort of revival on the street outside. So I didn't find reading about these party-poopers very entertaining. But it did provide an interesting contrast to the wild & colorful Everleigh Club.

So, in short, I really enjoyed this book. It was great history: equal parts depravity and moralizing. If you have any interest in turn-of-the-century America, or want a how-to manual on how to be a successful madam, I totally recommend.

fill in the blank...saturday

So I was reading Amy Rene's"Fill in the Blank Friday" post and figured I'd give it a try (even though I'm a day late). Cause it's fun to write about yourself.

(not me, but you get the idea)

I am curious about the world. A reader, animal lover, and traveler. A worrywart. A lover of good food and good drink (borderline glutton & wino, perhaps.) Maybe a bit pretentious. Definitely a little crazy.

The bravest thing I've ever done was wander around on foot in a foreign city, completely and utterly alone. (Language barriers nothing - I made a few new friends that day.) I also repelled down a cliff side in North Carolina although I am deathly afraid of heights (I can't look over a 3rd story balcony without getting queasy). The first time I ever went out to dinner by myself also required a bit of bravery, I think. Hooray me!

I feel prettiest when I'm smiling/happy. Being with people I love makes me glow, no matter how frumpy I'm looking that day.

Something that keeps me awake at night is remembering all the snafus of my day: that homework assignment I was supposed to complete, that witty comeback I couldn't come up with, that text I probably shouldn't have sent...These things always comes rushing back to torment me right as I'm about to doze off.


My favorite meal in the entire world is any of the southern cooking that the women in my family do so well and I have not yet been able to master, alas. Also Mexican street tacos (and not the Taco Cabana kind, either): corn tortillas, queso fresco, lime, cilantro, onion, and crumbly beef fajita. Ahhh.

The way to my heart is making me laugh...real, hearty, from-the-bottom-of-my-gut laugh, not the polite silence-filling kind. I'm also a sucker for anyone who will sit and have a meaningful conversation with me about religion or politics over coffee/cocktails and smokes.

I would like to learn a little more self-control, get a real job, and visit Russia, South Korea, and Argentina within the next five years.

the rum is for all your good vices

Rum has a special place in my heart because it has a special place in Jimmy Buffett's heart, and also because I like to think I was a pirate in another life. Unfortunately, rum isn't exactly a beverage that lends itself to high-quality production. When you mostly mix it with super fruity, syrupy drinks, there's really no need to make it very good. Now, some of you may know that I can be a bit stuck-up when it comes to liquor. I usually turn up my nose at anything that isn't top-shelf: I tend to think that, when it comes to booze, you should avoid the cheap stuff at all costs. (Within reason, of course. I obviously don't have $600 bottles of scotch laying around my house or anything...but one can dream.)

But there are exceptions to every rule and I think I've found one: Cruzan 9 Spiced Rum, which runs for about $13/bottle and is a new favorite of mine. I like spiced rums a lot because they actually have some oomph to them, unlike most silver/light rums that get totally lost in fruity cocktails. (Spiced rum, as you may know, is basically a gold rum that's had spices added.) Cruzan's nine spices include allspice, vanilla, nutmeg, pepper, clove, mace, ginger, cinnamon, and juniper berry, hence the  name. And it's delicious!

Cruzan itself is a pretty cool rum producer, with an 18th-century distillery in St. Croix that I fully intend to visit one day. I've only tried Cruzan 9 so I can't vouch for their other products, but I'm assuming they're pretty good. The website is fun to look at, especially if you're curious about rum production and recipes: Check it out. (And no, I'm not on their payroll. I just get excited about good quality, inexpensive liquor because it is so dang hard to find.) I think I'm going to bid farewell to the weekend with a Cruzan 9 and Coke on the front porch. Holla.

news photos of the year

National Geographic's "Best News Photos of the Year," an annual feature on World Press Winners, is something I look forward to. Not that it's always pleasant, because it rarely is. But it's a valuable conglomeration of some weird, sad, and all-too-rare wonderful things that happened in 2010. I've posted a few below. Here's the full story. (I should warn you, the ones I've included are some of the less-disturbing of the bunch. If you're easily upset you might not want to look at some of the others.)

Bolivian "Flying Cholitas" (women wrestlers)

Anti-government protester in Bangkok

 

 

Bibi Aisha, the Afghan girl whose nose and ears were cut off by her Taliban husband. (She's since undergone reconstructive surgery here in the U.S.)

haterade: glee

I hated tonight's Glee! Ugh, ugh, ugh. This was my go-to happy show. I feel betrayed. Let me rant for just one moment please:

Finn is a sleazebag. Quinn is a hoe. He's stupid and she's evil. (And yes, I liked them both very much prior to this episode.) I thought that Sam and Quinn's relationship was so cute, especially because he's friggin precious, so I'm not happy with this new development. The kissing booth and the fireworks-when-they-kissed-thing made me wanna barf. I didn't like any of the songs except for "Firework," and I had to wait like 40 minutes for that. I was really grossed out by Blaine's little show in Gap (yes, he is another character that I adored PRIOR to this episode), and I don't want Kurt to go for him anymore - and I know he will, which is another reason I'm irritated. Santana actually was propelled up my list of likable characters, which is a bizarre development. And I missed the diabolical Sue; a few hateful comments from her would've made me feel better.

The only redeeming quality? Puck and Lauren, for obvious reasons. Also "Firework."

And no, I'm not crazy. I don't think these are real people...My righteous indignation is directed at the writers. Um, why can't they tailor the show specifically to what I want to see? Ugh...The fact that I'm getting so upset over this probably indicates that I need a glass of wine and a good night's sleep.

team tinkerbell

Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver

So I was listening to this amazing program from Wisconsin Public Radio called To The Best of Our Knowledge the other day and had an epiphany. One of their podcasts, entitled "The Uses of Enchantment," explores the concepts of fairy tales, magic, and imagination. Authors such as Neil Gaiman (one of my faves!) and A.S. Byatt were interviewed. It was very very fascinating and enjoyable...here's the link - Listen!

Anyway, a few of the interviews (especially the one with Byatt) and all of that talk about enchantment got me thinking. And here was what I realized: Our society needs a revival of classic "children's literature." I don't mean picture-books. I mean fantastic fairy-tale-adventures. Something to pique our imaginations and transport us to the good old days of fairy-princess costumes and rock forts in the back yard. We (adults) need battles on the high seas, true love, fairies & goblins, magic carpets, sea monsters, swashbuckling, and similarly wonderful things. (Admit it: You loved playing with today's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea-inspired Google doodle.) More importantly, actual children need them, too. Especially the kind of children who don't realize that they need those things anymore: Teenagers.

I have seen far too many kids in high school English classes made miserable by the old-fashioned prose and veiled social/political commentary often found in their assigned reading. But I don't think teachers should only assign the likes of Harry Potter and Twilight either. Students do need to read from the canon of Western literature, at least some of the time. But why not seek some middle ground? Have them read classic "children's literature," which I keep referring to in quotations because it qualifies as just really fabulous grownup literature nowadays. Peter Pan, The Jungle Book, Ivanhoe, and Treasure Island, immediately come to mind.  Have students read classic literature purely for the sake of a good story, rather than for the sake of digging out some obscure theme about the human condition. (And, if you want to get serious about it, you can find serious themes and references in children's lit, too. But why? It's just as wonderful when taken at face value.) Kids are carrying too much baggage as it is. And I don't care how old and cool someone thinks they are, there is no one who doesn't love stories about knights in shining armor, pirates, princesses, and animals that can talk.



If I had my way, teachers would toss The Scarlet Letter, Great Expectations, and Hamlet in favor of this "children's literature." It can be used to teach the same valuable lessons on plot, character, diction, syntax, and all that good stuff, while also being much more enjoyable. Students need language arts skills and exposure to classic literature, which doesn't need to entail torturing them with Dickens's literary musings on industrialized Victorian society. That only makes them tune out and teaches them, literally, to hate and fear the classics. Just sayin'. (By the way, Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors. But I'm a little too in touch with reality to think that the average high schooler would agree, no matter how hard I try to show them that his stories are actually really exciting and relevant.)

Let me know what you think. And all of us remember being beat over the head with a classic novel in high school. Sometimes it really works, sometimes it really doesn't. I want to hear about some of your own experiences.

glee please

Hello, I love you

I guess I should officially come out of the closet as a Gleek. I am so much of a Gleek, in fact, that I actually get school-girl-giddy over Finn Hudson and spend time thinking about things that I wish would happen in the show. (Don't judge - at least I'm not a Twilight person.)

Here's what's on my list right now:

1. Guest star spot for Ed Helms (aka Andy from The Office). The obvious spot for him would be somehow involved with The Warblers.

2. DISNEY. Um, excuse me, I daresay that a huge portion of Glee's audience is composed of people (like me) who grew up loving and adoring Disney movies. Is it too much to ask for, say, a Rachel Berry rendition of "Part of Your World"? I know that Disney is very stingy with it's copyrights, but still...It would be fabuloussss.

3. a Mike Chang episode.

4. A full hour of nothing but Elton John songs. I'm thinking Rachel with "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word," Sam singing "Your Song" to Quinn, Mr. Schuester with "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" and Kurt jamming to "Crocodile Rock" in full-on EJ glam circa 1972 is an obvious choice. (And hip hip hooray, there actually are talks of an Elton John guest spot...But I want more!)

5. School production of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera? (Okay, I'm getting greedy.)

Glee returns tomorrow and I'm so excited! Now, I'm not unreasonable. I could settle for just one Elton John song or an extra bit of a dialogue for Mike Chang. Maybe just maybe I can one or two things off my wish-list this season.