Goodbye, 2012

I adore New Years resolutions.

I love thinking ahead, deciding on what I want to accomplish for the year, and breaking those big goals down into smaller, more action-able steps that can make them happen. I love assessing my life in the past year and deciding how to shake things up in the year to come. Goals give me a sense of purpose and excitement.

And I know New Years is an artificial construct. But I still love that sense of another chance. Last year’s failures can stay in last year. Now it’s time for a brand new, sparkly-clean new year—and all the successes that may come.

Last year, my dear friends Angel and Genn and I all got together and made up our big, audacious list of goals for 2012. I was just looking over mine. Here’s a glance at my old list from last year, and how I did.

1. Get my novel agent-ready by the end of 2012. If I look at it one way, this was a pretty big failure. My novel isn’t agent-ready yet. To be fair, though, I only had the first draft about a third of the way finished by the end of last year—and this was a bigger task than I planned. It always is. What I do have is about sixty pages that I’m really happy with—I’m finally learning how to edit in a way that makes huge improvements over my crappy first drafts. (My first drafts are so crappy it’s legendary.) So I’ll have to roll this goal over to 2013.

2. Write a song on my guitar by the end of this year. I took a few guitar lessons, but I didn’t write a song. My guitar hasn’t seen a lot of action in the past few months, unfortunately. Fail on this one.

3. Get my acting career going. Here’s where I had some success this year. I did a ton. New headshots, new commercial print portfolio, new commercial and dramatic acting reels, new website. Also! I was on Celebrity Ghost Stories, played a lesbian with OCD in a student film, and did some modeling. There’s still a lot more work to do in this area, but things are finally, finally moving.

4. Get on a salsa dance team. Fail on this one. But I’m taking private lessons to get in touch with my inner salsa vixen. Getting in touch with my inner vixen was apparently an important goal last year.

5. Read one nonfiction book per month. I’m pretty sure I failed at this one. I kind of stopped counting. But I did read a lot this year. One of my favorites for the year was Iced by Karen Marie Moning.

6. Do Nano 2012. Fail on this one too. This was actually the first year in a few that I haven’t done Nano. I may not do it next year, either. The thing is, I have steaming-pile-of-poo drafts from several consecutive Nano’s clogging up my hard drive—I need to get those in agent shape before I start something new.

7. Submit to 10 poetry magazines by the end of the year. Get one chapbook ready by the end of the year. Make finals in a slam competition. Poetry is like church to me. I feel a deep, almost spiritual satisfaction from writing it and reading it. But I don’t get to church that often these days, unfortunately. I keep trying things to jumpstart my involvement in poetry—none of these worked. I didn’t do any, although I did write a small handful of new poems.

8. Go to one French meetup per month. I actually didn’t do so badly here—I went to seven all year. But I also traveled to France twice. That’s got to count for like, five more, right?

9. Go to seven knitting group meetups per year. I went to four. So that was a fail. But the underlying purpose here was to widen my friend base in New York. And I’ve done that. I feel much more stable and secure in my friendships here this year than I did last year. So indirect win.

 So to recap my year. The most important goals to me were acting and noveling. Acting saw a lot of success, and so did noveling—although it’s not progressing as quickly as I’d like. As for the smaller goals, I’m still not fluent in French. I’m still not poet-laureate material, and I still can’t play the guitar. But that’s what 2013 is for. 

December 24th

Merry Christmas Eve (if you so celebrate)! Happy belated Solstice or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Festivus and early Annuum, if not.

On a grimmer subject: did you survive The End?

From what I understand, also a good beer...

I remember years ago now (back in the ancient history of the fall of 1999) taking a Millennialist Literature class. It was a lark. The teacher was light hearted, most of the students were light hearted, and we all had the same grim sense of humor. I knew we were all going to get along just fine when I realized the professor not only matched his sweater-vest to his converse sneakers and had drawn the seven-headed beast of Revelations with his own caricature (as the heads) on the chalkboard, but was wearing a striped and spotted tie: red stripes, white skulls. I was wearing a Fin Du Monde t-shirt I’d gotten that summer at a local pub. We laughed, we cried. We scared ourselves silly. Good times.

Thank you, Wikipedia

People seriously were afraid the world was coming to an end when the Julian calendar passed the 2k mark. Whether it was computers crashing, all hell breaking loose, Armageddon and Revelations, everyone had different ideas about what was going to happen. We read books about it, we read the literature that informed it. It was a really fun and thought-provoking class. And we took it with humor because, let’s face it, if you don’t, it can be pretty downer stuff to read about: how people perceive the world might end. Human cultures have been obsessed with beginnings and endings and apocalypses for as long as there have been definable human cultures. Longer, even, I’d bet if we could still talk to our neo-human ancestors. We talked about that, too. That prophecies and major natural and unnatural events all become part of concerns that somehow we won’t continue on. Comets and eclipses were bad omens that were signs of the deaths of kings and nations -- often self fulfilling prophecies, when the peasants rose up and killed them (like during one of Halley’s comet’s early recorded sightings in the 1400s depicted in tapestry, or the more recent Heaven’s Gate folks that decided to hitch a ride on Hale-Bopp, or the Holy Roman Emperor that keeled over and died of fright during an eclipse).

I bring this up because one of the more recent theories about what the Mayan end date was about was crossing the Galactic equator. Yeah. Like the equator of the Milky Way. Somehow, according to that guy, it coincides with the solstice and the end comes when the poles shift. Never mind that the Earth's poles have shifted HUNDREDS of times since humans first started roaming the earth. It's not unique to a single period in our geological history nor our species history. Go look at the USGS. Or NOAA (here too). Or PBS. Or NASA.

And you can see, even though we (most of us, anyway) lived and the world kept spinning, fear of the world coming to an end continued past the days of Y2K (just like it went past the Middle Ages, The Fall of Rome, and the end of the first Star Trek Series) in movies and books about aliens coming in and destroying everything, to the summer of killer comet/asteroid flicks, mega volcanoes, and climate changes. The Zombiepocalypse. Fears of nuclear war and nuclear winter carried over from the 50s. Revolution and evolution of society. Dystopian futures.

We find portents to fear in everything, from long-lost comets to rumbles in the earth, to more human-bound and inexpertly understood cultural leavings. And what we don’t understand or can’t control we fear -- even ourselves.

Mark the date at the bottom, if you will....

With all the furor over the Mayan calendar, it seems our concerns about the End-of-Days has reached another fever pitch. The fact that I’m writing this to you, and ostensibly you’re reading it, tells me that this continues even after the 21st of December, 2012. We see an end to a calendar, we see a major milestone and we fear it. Even though the experts shout, even though they rattle our cage, we’re still quietly (or not so quietly) preparing for everything to end. Personally, I’ve been singing along to REM and Great Big Sea, because if it’s the end of the world as we know it, I feel fine. I want to feel fine.

But I suspect it isn’t over. I suspect we’re just going to keep on spinning. And I have a prediction of my own that in a few months time, the day the world ends will be pushed back (like it’s been before again and again) and we’ll all keep going on living.

Because that’s what we do.

We live.

And maybe scare ourselves a little on the collective zeitgeist.

Signing off until the new year....?
-Angel

(Previously here and here...)

What I’m Reading: Be Here Now. What I’m Drinking: Wheatgrass Juice

So I don’t talk about this a lot—either on the blog or anywhere else. But I am a great big ball of anxiety.

Seriously. I get anxious that they might not have kitfo at the Ethiopian restaurant. I get anxious that I’m failing at all my life goals. I get anxious that I might actually die a crazy old cat lady like I keep threatening to do. I can’t read about global warming in the news anymore because a single dire statistic about the ice caps will keep me up for three nights straight.

For most of my life, I accepted this as my fate. But when I turned 30, I decided that anxiety would be a thing of my 20’s. That and low-rise jeans and pizza fries (I really miss pizza fries). So for the past few years, I’ve been actually trying to do something about my anxiety.

I’ve found exercise helps a lot. Especially yoga, but also spin, running, weightlifting—anything difficult enough to take me out of my head and into my body. Listening to happy music on the subway instead of my usual angsty soundtrack is surprisingly effective, too. So was my therapist, until he broke up with me. Long story.

I’ve also been reading a certain amount of self-help (ashamed as I am to admit it). Most of it is centered around managing anxiety and being in the moment. So with that in mind, I picked up Remember: Be Here Now by Ram Dass. I’d heard a lot about this book. I knew people for whom reading it was its own spiritual awakening. I wanted to see if I could experience that.

Maybe I’m not spiritually developed enough, though. Because I just…didn’t get it. The first section was a fairly interesting story of the author’s own spiritual journey. Then there was about a hundred pages of what looked like notebook doodling of pithy sayings and symbols. I wanted things that were more specific. I wanted instruction.

 But the instruction I got didn’t really feel like it fit me. There were a few things about meditation—but there was also a lot about things like renunciation (which I don’t really believe in) or finding a guru (which isn’t exactly what I’m looking for). I think the problem, for me, is that it’s a bit too spiritual and not practical enough.

I need suggestions that are based in reason. Maybe I’m more of a self-help person than a spiritual person after all—unless you’re allowed to count poetry as worship. Then I could totally call myself religious.

As for what I’m drinking: wheatgrass juice. It’s not exactly tasty, but it’s good for you. Somehow. At least, that’s what people keep telling me. And I’m going to go with that.

Cupcake: Great Big End

Going with my theme for the next little while, I'm sharing with you one of the greatest REM covers ever by one of the (IMHO) greatest Canadian bands ever. Heck, "great" is part of their band name.

This is Great Big Sea performing "End of the World (as we know it)."

And this is the tonal version I fell in love with:

Is it just me, or is this actually faster than the REM version? And why do I get the feeling that Great Big Sea is going joyfully into whatever comes next?

Yeah, I love this song and I love this band.

I'll get back to you with final thoughts Monday next week. (It's relevant, I promise.)
(Previously on "This Devious Mind"...)

Going back to an Old Read: Wyrm

Alright, so imagine you’re back in 1999. That’s how long ago it was I last read this book. But, this book was one of the most formative to my college self. While I was a table-top gamer, I had only been introduced to MMOGs and in particular MMORPGs and all the rest through AOL text chats. There, it wasn’t so much a formal game as a bunch of folks - like me - who had fun creating characters around each of our log in names. You described your characters in text - a red-haired half-elf with decidedly human ::clears her throat:: attributes, a silver dragon man, a green skinned orc. You described what you were doing. You interacted verbally with other people. You learned to type like the wind or get left behind.

Ahh, the good old days. Back then, things like Everquest and World of Warcraft were only beginning to become the behemoths they would prove to be.

It was also when the “Y2K bug” concerns were coming to a fever pitch. Computers were out to get us. They would start a nuclear war or crash and leave our economy burned all because of some lazy 70s programming. (Gee, this sounds familiar, doesn’t it?) Or that mysteriously, the Julian Calendar turning the 2 Millenial mark would bring about the end of the world. (The end of a calendar bringing some unknown end of the world... still sounding familiar....).

So, it’s with current events at heart, I decided to dive back into the world of Wyrm (not to be confused with the World of Warcraft, although I believe they might be mentioned in homage).

This book I would still recommend, although it’s hard for me to do it justice by describing it. As basic as I can make it though, the premise is that there’s a virus infecting systems and our hero has to save the world by entering the computer realm.

You’ve heard this story before? Well, not like this.

Sure, it REEKS of the 1990s, but it’s AWESOME. I mean Schrodinger’s Cat is personified (?!), there’s a VR chair, and some SWEET 1990s era hackers.

Go. Read it. And enjoy.

And enjoy a tankard of Dwarven ale or a pint of Elven mead while you’re doing it, would you?

Cupcake of the Week: Bruno Mars & THE LITTLE MERMAID

If, like me, you were a kid in the 80s and 90s then you'll have heard this song many times. You may have sung this song into your hair brush. I did. While playing dress up and dancing around. Pretty much exactly like this gif. My family had Sebastian's reaction-- "Oh, Holy Hannah in a hoop skirt-- there she goes again!"

Anyway, when I heard this the other day I couldn't stop smiling. Happy Wednesday!

Sometimes I'd Rather Watch Kittehs Doing Cute Things Online...Than Anything Else.

I don't know what it is about cute, adorable kitties...but they are fluffy little productivity vampires. Invite one in, and they all come trooping over my digital threshold--and before I know it, it's six o'clock and I have done nothing productive for the last hour. I sometimes have to turn on Freedom  (I would get nothing done without Freedom) just to escape them.

But who would want to escape them? Look. Just LOOK. Awww!!!

What I'm reading: Book ADD Edition

Ok first, first I need to share this with you. OMG! I am still laughing. I'm laughing so hard there will be typos. Oh, Jon Snow. Oh, CW. Oh, why has no one done this before? And where is my copy of A Feast for Crows? I seriously need to get back to Westeros. Pronto!



Next, as this title implies I'm a bit scattered with my reading lately. This is because at the moment I am working my way through a LOT of books for work. Books that won't be published until next year. Books that are so bloody fantastic it is impossible not to list them all right now. In this blog post. I won't. You see, I always feel a bit torn about writing about these books so far in advance. On one hand, I'm a passionate reader, if I love what I'm reading (and I do, I really really do!) I cannot wait to share. On the other . . . it seems almost cruel to tell you what I'm reading when it might not come out for another year or two.

So, with that in mind, I'm going to be taking a bit of a cop out this week. I'm not going to tell you what I'm reading. Instead I'm going to tell you what I should be reading. I should be reading A Feast for Crows. I promised the lovely Jenny that I would read both this and A Dance With Dragons this year. It was one of those New Year's Resolutions. Wine was involved.

I've kind of failed on that front. I'm a big fan of A Song of Ice and Fire, I got to interview George RR Martin for work earlier this year (I know, I know, ignore my name dropping, its so tacky! I am ashamed. But it happened. It was awesome. My inner fan girl was like-- AHAHAHA, but my outer professional was all like: So, can you tell us about the inspiration behind . . ..)

I loved A Storm of Swords so much. I read it last year. I read the first three books in the Song of Ice and Fire back to back in a breathless rush. I couldn't stop myself. And then I got to the end of the third book. I'm not going to spoil this for anyone. But stuff happens. Stuff happens that made my husband look at me (there might have been tears) and declare I take a little break from Westeros.

And I have. But, I'm missing Westeros like crazy. I miss Westeros like penguins miss being known for being assholes, and not tap dancing freaks. I seriously love penguins.

So, what I should be reading is A Feast for Crows. And maybe, this Christmas, I'll put on my big girl reading glasses (oh yeah, I now need reading glasses) and return to Westeros. Because people, guess what: Winter is Here!

Now Leaving the Friend Zone...

I love the Vlog Brothers. Really, I got introduced to them through Genn. (Thanks, Genn!). They are funny, nerdy, kiind of adorable, and they talk about all kinds of things, from economics to life to dating.  Specifically:

When I was in college, I clawed my way out of the Friend Zone, bloody-cuticled and wounded, and into a relationship with that erstwhile "friend." It went great for a long while. (Until it didn't. Which tends to be how these things go.) So I know it can be done.

However. I will say that now, when I have someone else in that zone...I've never changed my mind about that person. They are in the Friend Zone for a reason. It's not a reason I would ever tell them, so I say things like they mention in the video: "I wish I could find someone just like you!" and that old chestnut, "I don't want to ruin our friendship with sex!"

Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't try to get out of the Friend Zone again (even though I've done it before). No. I am in the Friend Zone for a reason. Not a reason my "friend" would ever tell me--and I shouldn't try to make them. But a legitimate reason. Sticking around someone who doesn't like you is waaaay harder than finding someone who appreciates you for who you are--and has no problem "ruining" your friendship by making it a romance. The best significant others, after all, are both friends and lovers--and neither side of that equation is negotiable.

Scared Snotless

So, this is making the rounds right now:

http://www.hlntv.com/article/2012/11/28/ghost-elevator-prank-brazil-tv-show?hpt=hp_t3

I’d like to say I have something serious to say about this involving schadenfreude, but honestly I don’t know what to say. It kinda involves two of my wet-my-self level fears: a malfunctioning elevator and creepy “ghost” children.  

I don’t know about you, but the only chuckles I get from this are nervous titters, even knowing it’s a prank. More like heart pounding and whimpering in a corner.



I watched this waiting for someone to keel over from a heart attack. There are a couple of responses that were pretty close to what I’d have. But as my SO brought up: Why didn’t any one try to strike out? It’s very clear that there is a lot of fight-or-flight happening here, and since no one can get away (being that they’re locked in the elevator), it would seem that it was only a matter of time before someone lashes out instead of curling themselves in a small ball and screaming (or wetting themselves). He reminded me of the last time we went to a fun house/ haunted house and I ended up going toe-to-toe with the guy that jumped out at me wearing a werewolf mask.



I’ve given it some thought. Real ghosts (whether you believe in them or not) versus pranks, if you believe that what you’re seeing is … well... incorporeal, perhaps the fight or flight takes that into account. In a fun house or a haunted house where you’re paying to go in and get scared, you know you’re not really in any danger. You know that there are people behind the masks and the gore paint. You can “fight” because there’s someone to fight. But with something your mind has convinced you is isn’t solid or there or possible, what’s the point in lashing out. You can’t touch it, you can only get away. Add to that the fact that your elevator has just seemingly gone on the blink.... I think you get the picture.

Of course, this has never stopped me before from trying to pull something like this over on someone else. I love a good ghost story and I love scaring others with a properly told tale and a well timed sound or sight gag. It is more fun when you’re in on the scare than when you’re the one being scared.



What do you think?

What I'm Reading: Iced by Karen Marie Moning. What I'm Drinking: Champagne.

I love Karen Marie Moning. She is one hundred percent guilty pleasure, like eating a rich, delicious chocolate cake that you know is too big of a slice and you know pretty much makes up your entire ideal calorie count for the next three days, but you’re doing it anyway. Her romances are so over-the-top sometimes that you feel like she’s utterly aware of the inherent cheesiness of the genre—and is rolling around in it like a kitten in catnip, inviting you to join her. And I’m right there with her, every time, furry little paws in the air, batting at invisible butterflies.

With the Fever series, though, her writing takes a darker turn. I wouldn’t call this series romance. It has a strong romantic undercurrent, and its hero and heroine mostly adhere to romance novel archetypes. But the story itself is more fantasy than romance, and the romantic arc draws out over several novels. Here’s where we meet the deadly-sexy-dangerous JZB—my favorite evil-dark-hero-badass of all time. Yes, I must speak in giddy hyphens when referring to him. He is too much to describe in just one single word.

Iced is a spinoff of the Fever series, told from the perspective of Dani, a fourteen-year-old girl with special powers—a peripheral character in the Fever books. As with those, I wouldn’t call this a romance—instead, like the heroine, it’s growing up slowly, and you know one day it’ll evolve into a brilliant romantic future. It’s just not quite there yet.

There are several different candidates put forward for the man who will evolve into Dani’s hero. One is a JZB equivalent character—much older than he looks, keeping dangerous secrets, and truly badass. But this guy doesn’t quite stand up to the JZB example to me. Maybe it’s the age difference, but Ryodan strikes me more as the creepy uncle you walked in on having sex that one time—and you’re still scarred—than as a potential love interest.

And where JZB never could or wanted to control Mac—the heroine of the Fever series—I found Ryodan’s interactions with Dani to be too controlling. True, Dani is a child. But she has a very vibrant and strong personality, and the way Ryodan bosses her around makes him a dangerous adversary—but also makes me not want to root for them as a future couple. Maybe the difference is explained best by Dani herself, who once compared JZB to a wild animal and Ryodan to a machine. The wild animal doesn’t seek to control others—and the only gift he can give someone else is her freedom. I think ultimately, that’s what makes a dark hero like him work. At least for me.

Then there’s Christian. Sexy Christian, who’s evolving into a powerful but also out-of-control supernatural creature because of some kind of curse he picked up in the Fever series. I thought he had potential at first. But his level of intense interest in Dani—who is, don’t forget, only fourteen—and the other creepy stuff he keeps doing (you’ll have to read the book for that; I don’t want to spoil it) puts him officially in the friend zone for me. I don’t think he’s hero material in this book, although he could make that transition in a different one—and I’d like to see that.

To be honest—and this is a surprise to me—my favorite candidate for Dani’s future main squeeze is Dancer. Dancer is not a supernatural being. He’s also not a lot older than Dani. He’s a normal human boy, and true, he’s really smart. But he’s not a typical romance novel hero. He’s not powerful. He’s not alpha. He’s not intimidated by Christian or Ryodan, both of whom are plenty intimidating. But he’s not a testosterone-happy posturer, either. He quietly gets the job done. He shows himself out. He’s there when she needs him.

My hero tastes run more toward the JZB-style dark hero than the nice, ordinary guy—at least in fiction. But KMM makes that nice guy attractive. Through Dani’s eyes, Dancer comes off as truly the strongest and most mature of all of them—despite lacking special powers of his own or a supernaturally extended lifespan. (Sigh. I just re-read that sentence. MAN, I am such a paranormal romance geek.) For Dani, who is a bold, brave, larger-than-life character herself, that may be just what she needs. Strong, solid, and steady—someone she can make a life with.

As for what I’m drinking when I read this novel: champagne. Not expensive champagne. But definitely champagne. It’s light, it’s intoxicating, and you get so drunk on it you’re a little embarrassed the next day—but you just can’t stop guzzling it. It’s the equivalent of alcoholic sunshine—or, dare I say it, catnip. This is a thick book, and I finished it in a single joyous, orgiastic weekend of reading. I bet you will, too.

Cupcake of the Week: End of NaNoWriMo Approaches. Are You Ready?

I am a long time NaNo-nut. This is the first year in five years where I'm not spending my November locked to the keyboard -- mostly because I need to finish some things and, well, I tried Camp NaNo over the summer. But, I know right now I'm totally back next year. National Novel Writing Month helped me start and finish projects in ways I hadn't thought possible before. And I'd like to thank both Genn and Jenny for getting me into it.

In honor of those out there who are banging away even as we speak, I'm giving you one of the most hilarious NaNo send-ups I've seen so far this year:

for more Jonesy and the Commander go to thepunchlineismachismo.com.

Oh, Thought Catalog, I might have to quit you.

Sigh.

I am no longer in my 20s. I’m in my very early 30s. For the most part, I’m ok with this. I really am. I like my 30s so far. I have a much better understanding of who I am and what I want from life. It’s a big improvement over the crazytown that I was for most of my 20s. Let’s be honest, I still have many crazytown moments, but they are far less in scale compared to my 20s.

These are all good things.

This isn’t really a post about that, though.

This is a post about Thought Catalog. I adore Thought Catalog. Sometimes it feels like their posts come straight from inside my brain. I’d love to write for them because I think the content they are producing is fantastic! But lately, I’m not feeling it so much. Sometimes their brilliance makes me want to sob. Check out this post on ‘Game of Thrones Love’. I mean, this is the stuff I think about. A lot.

But more often than not there’s a post about a 20 something problem. About ten of these posts a day. I am again, only in my very early 30s (ok, I’m 31!) but these posts annoy me to no end. Not because they aren’t well written (though sometimes they aren’t, which breaks my heart a little) but because of the sheer volume of them. Yes, Thought Catalog is for the young, hip and terminally cool (it’s a disease, trust me). But it’s also for people who like to think, to have their brains expanded with wonderfully written posts. Lately, its turned into the graveyard for all things 20 something. Which is reading to me a lot like Cosmo or The Catcher in the Rye. Great in small doses, but you can OD on it quickly.

So, I guess you can call this my open letter to Thought Catalog.

Dear Thought Catalog,

I have loved you since before you were cool. Before everyone read you. Before you decided to publish ebook only collections of your articles (I have questions about how that works actually, who gets royalties, what content goes into those books, etc, but that’s probably for another post). My love affair with you has been long and distinguished. But the bloom is off the rose now, my darling. You are firmly entering hipster middle age. I don’t want to part from you, but I find myself yearning for something new. Something that remembers I exist. Something that wants me to keep reading it. Something that doesn’t act as if your 30s is a decade to ignore (heaven forbid 40s). I miss your cocky swagger. I miss when you used to write posts that got inside my brain and made me think, made me look at life and smile, laugh or get a bit misty eyed. I miss when you dazzled me with your brilliance. I miss when you were a site that spanned all decades and didn’t just focus on one. In short, I miss when you used to have my number and called me up late at night, not just for a drunken booty call, but for a soul to soul chat on my roof under the stars. I miss you.

But I’m a woman in my 30s. I don’t do relationships that are one sided. I learned that from three of your ‘Men not to date in your 20s’ posts. The other six posts on this topic I shamefully must admit I ignored. Did I miss something? Please do tell me, oh wise and wonderful font of all things 20 something.  

I won’t write you off entirely, my darling dearest, but I will be taking a step back from you. Let’s call this an open relationship. I might cuddle with Good.is sometimes. I might occasionally look to Jezebel.com for insight. But I don’t want to quit you.

Please don’t make me quit you.

Yours always,

Genn 

Story time: Beauty and The Werewolf

I am mad for Mercedes Lackey's two current fairytale-based series, and while I'll talk more about the other one some other time, I just finished one of the Five Hundred Kingdoms books, Beauty and the Werewolf. Some of these books I've loved more than others, I'll admit. But, I do like the world she creates with the Tradition and those who are in the know about it. I love Godmother Elena -- whose story, The Fairy Godmother, was just fantastic -- and her cadre of friends, assistants, and disguised allies that appear throughout the series. I also love that these stories can almost all be read out of sequence and still enjoyed for just how awesome they are. In fact, while some characters carry over into other stories, like this one, really, there is no particular order needed, although it does make finding someone you recognize from an earlier book more fun.

With Beauty and The Werewolf, we see the story of both "Little Red Riding Hood" and "Beauty and the Beast" in a completely new light. Isabella -- her friends call her Bella -- is visiting a wise woman most folks call Granny when she's attacked by wolf. She ends up being dragged into the world of Tradition and finds that the wolf was more than he seemed, as are those around him. I love the world and I love the new twist on an old story, although I think I would have loved to see more interactions between Bella and her cursed nobleman. They both seem like fantastic characters, but I really didn't see enough of what made them laugh together, as the cover talks about. And I would have liked to get to know him better. He seems like an interesting guy: cursed to be a werewolf every full moon, a wizard who works in the Godmother network, a nobleman and a recluse who desperately needs some companionship but is afraid he might hurt someone if he leaves his castle for too long. I wanted more time to fall in love with him, too. Bella is a no-nonsense type of girl who, before she knew what tradition was was doing what she could to manipulate it in her favor. She may chafe at her confinement, but she largely makes the best of it and takes over changing the lives of those who are living in the castle and her werewolf. I like that about her. I also like that she does crumble a little when the frustration gets too much. It shows just how human she is. I also love how vivid her descriptions are of the world, I can really smell, taste, and feel the world that Bella inhabits.

I will be buying the next when it comes out.

It's a little late for it, but what I've been thinking about drinking with this is -- mostly for the kitsch factor -- the Newcastle seasonal, Werewolf, a red amber ale. If beer is not your style -- and generally, it's not mine, I'd go with a nice hot spiced cider, something to cut the chill, sweet, spicy, with a little bite.

We'll see you next week, with Genn taking the lead on Monday. 

Enjoy!

Cupcake of the Week: Things security cameras capture

Ok, so today's Cupcake isn't funny. It's not traditionally delicious either. But, it did warm my heart and make me smile long after I finished watching the film. Enjoy!

Musings on a Monday Afternoon: What I’ve Lost, What I Cling To

I recently turned an age where I thought, at sixteen, I’d have it All Figured Out. I believed I’d have an amazing successful career by now—as an actress and a novelist. I thought I’d have found my soulmate and would be settled down by now, preferably in a rambling old fixer-upper of a chateau in France. None of these things have happened.

I think of myself as someone who hasn’t changed much. I still want the same things I’ve wanted since I was five. But in some ways, my childhood self might not recognize herself in me now.

These are the things I’ve let go of:

1. The idea of never settling. No relationship is perfect. No matter how amazing yours is, you will always be settling for something.

2. The idea of being famous. I don’t think I want to be famous. I think I would hate my life.

3. The dream of being a really well-known actress. See above.

4. The conviction that I can ever have put-together, done-looking hair. I am done getting into arm-wrestling matches with a curling iron or a blow dryer. I never win.

5. The idea that I will ever be part of any kind of artistic in-crowd. For the following reasons: a. No discernible fashion sense. b. Zero ability to project that intangible "cool" factor. c. Serious lack of aptitude for putting together a credible bohemian-sexy outfit involving leggings. Leggings as a clothing staple go right over my head. (Yes, mostly it has to do with clothes.)

6. The idea that sex needs to be like sex in a romance novel. It took me a looong time to get over that one. When I did, I started having better sex.

7. The search for the perfect black suede boot I saw in a Banana Republic once for $280, years ago. I told myself I would buy them on sale. I never saw them again. I’ve been settling, boot-wise, ever since.

8. The idea that success is something defined by others. I may never be a famous actress. I’m not sure I want to be. But if I’m doing fun projects, work I’m proud of, and I actually get paid for it—that looks a lot like success to me.

9. The idea that I have to impress anyone with my reading list. I have a lot of guilty pleasures, and I embrace them with wanton, loose-bodiced abandon. Also, the fact that I have a reading list is pretty impressive in this day and age, sadly enough.

10. The idea that I need to change. The people who matter love me for who I am.

These are the things I still believe in:

1. Flossing. Every day. 

2. Someday I can have a career as a novelist. And that the publishing industry will be in some shape to support my career as a novelist when I finally get my act together, no matter how ugly it is out there. 

3. Being myself, always. Even when it’s not the easiest thing to be. See No. 10 on the previous list.

4. No matter how much of a mess I am, a good manicure and pedicure can make me feel about 80% more put together.

5. Great shoes will take care of a large part of the remaining 20%.

6. A book and a bubble bath can cure all kinds of ills.

7. The world is a warmer place when you’re swathed in fleece. Seriously, if you’re expecting bad news, wear fleece socks. It'll take the edge off.

8. I can change, if I choose to, even if I don’t need to. 

What have you lost? What do you cling to?

What I'm Reading: The Mark of Athena

This week I'm reading The Mark of Athena. I’m a big big big HUUUGGGEEE fan of Rick Riordan. I loved the Percy Jackson series. I really enjoyed the Kane Chronicles. Rick Riordan’s books are an instabuy in hardback for me (I am not a fan of reading books in hardback as they tend to be heavy and make my commute unhappy) but I can’t wait for the paperbacks.

Besides my love of the stories I love that Rick Riordan’s books are so engaging for kids. I love that he manages to make Greek and Egyptian mythology cool. I love that he brings old stories to a completely new audience. I love, more than anything, that he gets people reading. As a *hopeful* YA writer, that’s all I want to do—get teens reading. It’s not an easy task and Rick Riordan does it so well.

I am really digging the Heroes of Olympus series which sees Percy and Annabeth returning to face the looming god-pocalpyse (yes, I make up words) with a new crew of demigod heroes. This is the third book in the series so I’m not going to summarise the other books for you. I’ll just say this: if you haven’t read the Percy Jackson books, but want to see what all the fuss is about, pick up the first book Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero. Rick Riordan has done a fantastic job of merging the two series and allowing readers to jump into this new series with the

first book. I love seeing the old characters come back, but the new characters are just as engaging (if not more so). 

This series feels a little older to me than Percy Jackson or the Kane Chronicles (which are firmly middle grade). If not quite YA, then it’s not far off. The Mark of Athena sees our heroes from Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood finally join together to embark on their quest to Rome to stop Gaia from rising and destroying the earth. Filled with lots of action, brilliant characterisation and Riordan’s trademark humour, this is an adventure not to be missed.

While I’m reading, I’ll be sipping an old-school pink lemonade and vodka. Because that’s the perfect drink to accompany this book. A summer favourite (pink lemonade) with a kick of vodka makes me a happy camper. See what I did there, with the whole camp thing? Yeah, it wasn’t that funny.

I Love Fanfiction

...Now that that’s out there.... 

I could call it a guilty pleasure, but it’s not one I often feel guilty about. Unless I’m neglecting things I need to do. Yeah, that’s really the only time I feel guilty about it.

See, part of what I love so much about it is the time and the love people put into writing it KNOWING they’re not going to get paid. And there are some really, really good writers out there.

Take for example, some of the reads I've had this year:  DaphneBeauty, Recycled-Stars, Jameison Rook (who made me sob in public, by the way), and MommaKristine of Castle fandoms. They are amazing writers who write these stories entirely out of love.

I've been known to fall in love with a fandom just because the stories I was reading were so good. I’ve read Sailor Moon stories only for that reason.

Sure, there’s a lot of not great things out there, but even the not great stuff is done with love.

Some do it in their free time, between classes, after work, when the kids have gone to sleep. And to me, they are just as legitimate as any other writer. They publish online and never get a dime, but these are worlds and characters they love -- that I love -- and that they keep alive for me even after the lights go down and the canon story ends. 

I made this!

I've read Harry Potter fic and Dr. Who fic, Inuyasha, Firefly, Babylon 5,  Pride and Prejudice, X-Files, (oh yeah, Matrix).... I could go on.

There are writers I've followed and writers whose work it breaks my heart to know has disappeared from the interwebs (jeuxdevagues, I’m talking to you.).

I go through cycles of reading it, but no matter how long in between, I always come back. And from time to time, I bring a few friends along.

I have lost more links to fic I've loved over the years than I've managed to keep track of. I've been reading FF since I first discovered the internet -- back when Netscape was cutting edge, but I realize I've been into it a lot longer. A friend of mine and I tried writing a Three Ninjas script back when... aaaaand then there was the thing I wrote that may or may not have been based in a single scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Thank god that was lost back in the 90s (or I’m sure that Genn and Jenny would probably have demanded to see it and know why it was never shared before in all it's embarrassing, 15-year-old glory....). 

Among my favorite kinds of stories are ones that make the characters I love real, some that change the way I look at characters, and others that put favorite characters in a whole new world.

(Source - Chocolateisafoodgroup via Tumblr)

It’s one of the things I loved about Recycled-Stars story The Ends Opening to New Ends Always. And not to forget MommaKristine’s Your Last Day. (I’m still looking for this hi-larious set of stories I read that were a little Twilight, a little X-Files. I’ll try to link when I find it.) There are the Pamela Aiden books, the Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a Gentleman series (Okay, that is one of the few that I’ve read that actually got paid to publish.) and, of course, the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, that I've already mentioned before.

Before you say it, Genn and Jenny have given me more than enough grief about this, but honestly, I don’t see the problem. If anything, it shares the love for an author’s work, it brings new people into the love, and as long as no one is insisting on starting a flaming copyright war, who does it hurt?

What do you say? Do you feel the love or just disgust? If you feel the love, share me some reads in the comments. I’m always looking for something awesome to read. :)

Cheers!
Angel

PS: Genn's up tomorrow, with more regular programming. Stop back, now, y'hear?

Prepare to Get Schooled in my Austrian Perspective.

I love this SO HARD.

This video is so geeky and so bad-ASS at the same time that I just want to memorize it (both parts) and give impromptu subway performances. It's super geeky. And you even learn something. HUGE WIN.  (And yes. I am a huge geek.)

A Red-Headed Rant

I’m gutted.

EW.com just released this image from the upcoming Mortal Instruments movie. I loved Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series. One day I’ll write a blog post about why and just how much I love this series.

This is not that post.

This is a post about Clary Fray. As girl with long curly ginger hair I loved Clary Fray. She’s kick-ass. Thrown into an impossible situation, she adapts over the course of the series and becomes a brilliant heroine. I've got some issues with the series which again are for another blog post, but overall, she’s a fantastic role model for girls, especially girls with ginger hair.

The covers of the book all clearly show Clary as she’s described in the books: feisty, little and ginger-haired.

 

So when this image was released I wanted to cry a little. 

This girl doesn't look like Clary. She looks like Bella Swan with a bad rinse job. (Seriously, check out her black eyebrows!) Or even a less fierce Katniss minus the side braid.  Or Hermoine in the final Harry Potter films. What worries me about this is that the film has taken a very different-looking character and tried to shoehorn her into a ‘successful YA look'. Rather than focus on why these books have sold millions of copies it appears (and I so hope I’m wrong) that the film company is trying to create a mold for a successful YA female protagonist. This bothers me on so many levels, but the deepest is that it begs the question: can all girls just be boiled down into one universal image, and if we can figure that out, can we just drop said girl into different movies and make millions?

No. At least I really hope the answer is no.

For me this casting is pretty much the same as making all the Weasley family a bunch of blonds. It doesn't make any sense. Yes, hair shouldn't define a person, or be the only thing about a character that’s remarkable, but sometimes it’s important. Could you picture the Weasley family as a bunch of blonds? Go on, I dare you. Or Draco Malfloy without his white-blond hair? What about Harry sans his famous scar?

Tricky, right?

In my head, Clary will always be a cross between Merida from Brave and this girl on the cover.

 

I won’t write the film off based on this image, but I’m sad to see that the casting directors have gone down this route. Growing up in the (ahem) 80s and 90s there was a lack of role models for ginger girls (except of course for Annie and Anne of Green Gables—strange how their names are nearly identical. Is it possible to be a red headed YA heroine not named Anne? Of course, but you get the idea here.). I guess I expected more from Hollywood. My first mistake, perhaps.

Don’t even get me started on how few role models Hollywood gives children of colour (pretty much none). It’s far too depressing. But this is a topic that deserves its own blog post. I’ll get there. Because it's too important not to get there.