New things to love


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A few days ago, I watched the movie Knowing with Nicholas Cage. An okay movie, better than I expected it to be, but not great. As I watched I heard a piece of music so beautiful I have to mention it. I had heard its haunting strains before though I still can’t seem to place where. This is where the wonders of the internet come into play. I wanted to hear it again. To buy a copy if possible, but I had no idea what it even was. So, I googled it. Turns out it was Beethoven’s Symphony # 7. I hopped on my little Amazon mp3 app and found Leonard Bernstein conducting the symphony in A major and it was every bit of beauty I was hoping to recapture. I bought it. It was that easy. That’s why I adore technology- the absolute ease of finding out exactly what I want to know. Here’s the YouTube clip of the piece with Charles Latlow conducting.

I love just closing my eyes and letting the music pour over me, filling up my soul with powerful feeling. I wonder if you’ll feel the same when you hear it.


Reluctant Sleeper


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I have the hardest time going to bed at night.
It’s not that I’m unable to sleep or am too busy to break away from whatever needs doing.
I am reluctant to give up the night.
I hate relinquishing time that is all mine; time free of obligations and dictations.
I always feel like there is much more that I could do to make use of the time and to spill out all the pent up creative energy that’s been building up in the unremembered sectors of my brain. All these bits and pieces of thought and inspiration that would amount to some world-shattering paradigm shift if only I could get it out of the region where it’s been marinating for so long.
I suppose I just want to pack every moment with something, even if it’s only thought. Not that I succeed in this. But I still desire it.

The funny thing about this reluctance to sleep is that I LOVE to sleep. It’s one of my favorite things. And I very rarely have any trouble sleeping. I have trouble waking up. Mornings are just not good for me. Once I’m actually up and about, I adore the light and the peace and newness of morning, but waking can be so hard.
At times I wish I was an early riser, eager and able to rush out and begin the day, able to accomplish more with freshness and ingenuity, but that’s something I’ll have to work on if I hope to have it.

What I miss most about the evenings lately is good conversation. I love to hear a group of friends talk passionately on a subject that means something and has far reaching implications. I love to listen to lively and witty exchanges. I feel like they feed into me, filling me with mental sustenance. Even if I myself remain silent.
Books help, of course, if I can stay awake to read them.
I will have to visit that topic frequently and more in depth as this experiment progresses; for books, to me, are air, food, rest, and vigour.
Good night. I cannot deny sleep now and have it usurp the morning. Cannot because I still have two work days left before my weekend. Catch what moments we can in the now with the hope of more to be unveiled in the future.  And always, as Emily Dickinson said, dwell in possibility.

The Return


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I’ve been thinking about this blog thing of mine for a long time now, and questions of content and purpose frequently arose. I find I am not always able to do a thing for the thing’s sake alone, but often must have some reason or purpose in doing so, or some thing I wish to accomplish. I have not know what purpose my blog would serve or what I could accomplish (or what I wanted to accomplish) by its existence. But in my long absence from it, I find that I have missed it.
Perhaps a certain amount of experimentation would be beneficial in helping me to see just what kind of a beast I am capable of making this medium into. Timidity and queasy questions of externalised value aside, I know that I love to write and to communicate and any medium that provides that sort of personalized and customizable venue must be explored. (I have to comment as an aside here, that my phone’s keyboard preferred me to say that this type of venue must be exploded. I may have a nemesis in the making :S .)
To sum up, I am keeping this short and making it known that although silent and dormant for a long time, this place is not abandoned. Check back. There will be more to follow.

Good Things & The Nature of Writing


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I’ve been in a holding pattern for several months. I’ve been waiting and biding time and getting through. Now, things are starting to change. Hopes I had given up and dreams I had put away to look at later are starting to reveal themselves and what they’ve become while I wasn’t watching. Life is a work of art in progress.

I’ve accepted a position at a library as an associate. It’s part time, but it fits beautifully around my existing work schedule and other obligations. And what’s so wonderful about more work is the nature of the work I’ll be doing. Surrounded by books and the accumulated dreams, visions, knowledge, and revelations they contain… working to help people find what they need in their own journeys… being where people value learning and education, thought and development… talking to people who READ… these are joys I look forward to with a certain excitement and hungry anticipation. There will probably be difficult issues or uncomfortable things as every job has, but I am internally calm and this feels right.


I am trying to be more intentional about writing. I scribble a lot in my journal, trying to keep dialogue with myself flowing. I sometimes think of my journal as a series of letters to myself, though usually it is just stream of consciousness, jotted notes, or scribbled ideas. There’s a lot of inane written chatter, but I allow it as all part of the process. The important thing is just that I keep writing. I need to keep in practice. Even if I’m the only one that ever sees it.

But here, in an online, accessible forum, my words are not just laid between closed pages, viewable only to me. Here I am more vulnerable. Here I often war with insecurities about content and whether I should even bother to keep what I post; Here I long for meaning and elevation of thought, but fear some sort of ephemeral failure. Here I am visible to anyone who stops to read. As a result I sometimes self-edit my text to death.

I want to write something more. I want to pen something worth reading. The dream of every writer: would-be or otherwise. I struggle with notions of who my audience is. I agonize over content and then just write about whatever the hell I feel or what comes to mind. I feel like it’s an odd process. I just want to write. (But sometimes I feel that I also want so badly to be READ.)

I don’t outline anything. I can’t plan anything out in advance. I have to feel free to put down whatever, whenever, and clean it all up later. I scribble little patches of ideas. I jot notes. I try to connect epiphanies together. Sometimes I just want to tear it all out, pare it down and start over from a basic idea, or a line, or a thought. I sabotage myself. Still… I write. One line following another. One word, one phrase, one thought. Little bits of myself in print, in ink, scrawled across pages, splattered on the backs of receipts, in notebooks, on pages, scattered like leaves across a bed, a nightstand, the floor. I just keep writing, and maybe something will be born from all of this.




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“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”  ~C.S. Lewis

I’m getting ready to say goodbye to one of my closest friends, Katie. Not forever. It’s a farewell to proximity. She’s moving away and out of state and the frequency in which we used to talk and spend time together will be altered completely. No more working on crafty projects together, no more carpooling, no more Barnes & Noble hang-outs, no more crazy face-to-face updates on the extended drama and minutiae of our lives. Hopefully, I’ll be gaining an epic pen pal out of this, but in the meantime, I can’t help but grieve a little at the change in circumstances necessitated by Life.

I’m a pretty friendly person and I suppose generally well-liked, but I have always been extremely choosy about the friendships I’ve acquired in life. Some have caught me by surprise, but most of the ones that are really made to last are that way because I made sure that I had a sense of who that other person was and I knew that that individual was someone I wanted to have in my life because I truly admired or liked who they are deep within. I may have watched their interactions with other people, listened to the things they talked with the most passion about, and waited to see if they held true to what they professed. I’m picky and probably largely cautious by nature. But I’m also intensely loyal and I don’t give that out easily to anyone I happen to meet in the course of a day.

A lot of my friends are creative in one way or another and most, if not all of them, are very intelligent. I’m not prejudiced, but we choose the kind of people we want to be like when we choose our friends. Even if it’s subconscious. There has to be something we admire about one another that draws us into communion. And as most of my friends are currently largely impoverished, I have to draw the (probably flawed) conclusion that money doesn’ t really matter a whole hell of a lot to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to make more (in fact it’s pretty obvious I need to) and I’d love to be well off enough to where I don’t have to worry and think about money, but it’s not a major factor for me. This is just one example.

The people I find lasting in my life are those who have a lot going on inside- in their heads and in their hearts. They care about other people. They have dreams and passions to make some kind of an impact on the world, through art, or family studies, literature, cultural studies, religious studies, psychology or some other form. But these people are part of a very select group, though they may never know it.

Getting back to the origin of my thoughts, I am sad when those I have come to love and care about move away to places that make it difficult to see them face-to-face regularly. Despite all this, I know that the bonds and connections we have made are solid and will last in spite of distance, Life, and change in circumstances.

People change, and sometimes friendships fade, but there are certain people we carry with us always, and with those people, we are never truly very far distant.

So it’s time to break out some of my favorite pens, some trusty stationary, stock up on postage stamps, and keep those tech connections viable. It’s easy to forget about the little things, but communication is key in keeping those enduring friendships alive.

Now I’ll just have to come up with something to say.

Distractions: The Comfort Food of the Mind


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I have been putting off writing, waiting for some theme to emerge. Sometimes I wish I had an addictive personality, because at least then I could focus on one thing at a time and delve into it in depth and therefore have some reasonable knowledge on an interest before I flew off in pursuit of another. As it is, I’m rather more like a magpie, darting off after every shiny interest as I see it, leaving it shortly thereafter for a glimpse of something else with promise. My nest is littered with promising bits of this and that, but it feels like I am easily distracted and will never be well-versed in anything!

It’s interesting, though, how sometimes these various interests will link up and intertwine in unexpected ways. Here’s an example. I was reading a book about the creation of Frankenstein. Mary Shelley, P.B. Shelley and Byron, along with Byron’s doctor, got together one stormy night and challenged each other to create a scary stories. This is a much abbreviated relation of events. What I was reading was the book The Monsters: Mary Shelley and the Curse of Frankenstein, which details the incident and those leading up to the event.  Anyway, as I was reading through, I learned about Byron’s only legitimate child being Ada Lovelace and how she came to be regarded as the first computer programmer in her work with Charles Babbage on his difference engine. A math genius born of a philandering poetic genius. The world is a fickle and funny place.

Later, I was exploring some Steampunk related things and stumbled upon the graphic webcomic 2D Goggles or The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace & Babbage More hysterically related historical information about Byron’s girl genius in the math department. Then, I was reading The Bookman, a very strange Steampunk fiction that mentioned the “Person(s) from Porlock”, which was also mentioned in the 2D Goggles comic and referenced here in wikipedia:  It’s just weird how things kept connecting, and it was happening over and over again as I read and looked and listened to different things. I never would have known about Ada Lovelace or her connection to Byron, but suddenly she was everywhere! And then she started showing up in other webcomics like harkavagrant: and Gail Carriger, one of my favorite Steampunk authors mentioned Ada Lovelace Day in her blog with a link here all about it: This is just one of the weird little connecting happenstances. I love learning new things. It’s never-ending!

I have a feeling this entry, like the blog itself, is going to grow long and be filled with a  strange variety of subject matter, perhaps not all perfectly linked together. Bear with me. I could separate it all into coherent little individual posts, but I won’t, because I’m lazy and it would mean putting the writing off more and allowing the thoughts and ideas to go stale.

I’ve been wanting to write a little about the HBO show Carnivale and how it’s taken up a good portion of my thoughts the last month or so. I held off, thinking that it probably wouldn’t be of a great deal of interest to anyone as the show itself was cancelled several years ago after 2 seasons and 24 episodes and it was probably the case that everything that could be explored had already been said on the subject long ago. But still… I have thoughts and I still want to share them.

Now, what do I want to say about Carnivale? What are the elements that intrigued me, that captivated my interest? What is it that had me thinking for weeks and more about the show? Why was I so riveted and why do I still have the desire to open a dialogue about it? It haunts me.

The show takes place in 1930s America in the Dust Bowl and in the heart of The Great Depression. It focuses on a traveling carnivale and the perspective of the “carnies” and sideshow “freaks,” the “roadies” and those who travel with them. It’s also the story of an ancient enmity between forces of good and evil, that reside in unexpected vessels.

The supernatural elements in the show were so very haunting and mysterious to me at first view. They still linger and intrigue. Part flash-and-bang false theatrics of the carnivale and part mystery; mixed with surprisingly genuine talents, the show immediately catches attention. Then the main character brings it home: a reluctant, powerful, and unexpected force capable of great good, but also heavily flawed. Things are never as they seem to be. The character who would most easily be typecast as good slowly reveals himself to be utterly, revoltingly corrupt and vile. The force for all the world’s cruelty, power-mongering, and evil. It’s fascinating.

Ben Hawkins

At times gritty and crass, the show deals with society’s crusted underbelly, but also can be beautiful and earnest, with a profound sense of innocence and honesty. It’s an odd mix. I love it.

Brother Justin

I own both seasons on dvd and I’ve watched them through a few times. This last time I was affected differently. I paid attention to different elements, caught new things, skipped over portions, and was thoroughly captivated. It was the music that struck me in a profound way. Not just the score, which I’ve always loved, but the music from the period that was used in the show. I had to know more!

I’ve tried to talk to friends about it, but I can’t seem to get across why I am so effected by it. I think I’ve always had an affinity for objects and ephemera of the past. I’ve always been a bit of a daydreamer and I love learning about history and past culture. Maybe I’ve been too romantic with my interest, but I remain captivated even when faced with some of  history’s less charming realities. (i.e. I love the Medieval period, but I’ve come to realize I really wouldn’t have wanted to live through it. 🙂 )

Back to the music:

Ruth Etting

I discovered a site dedicated to the show, but perhaps not avidly kept up now that the show has ended. is where I was delighted to find every song used on the show, not only listed by episode, but available for download. free. Sheer bliss! The scratchy 1920s era crooning of long dead songstresses filled me with images of gramophones and speakeasies. There were also a lot of tracks that feature calliope-type music that you might actually hear in a carnival, midway setting. I focused on the older, nostagic tracks, like “Love Me Or Leave Me” by Ruth Etting (which is used frequently and eerily throughout Carnivale), Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”, “Rockin’ Chair”, and “Snowball” by Mildred Bailey and “If You Knew Susie (Like I Know Susie)” by Eddie Cantor and His Orchestra. Such Fun!

The show was cancelled before the full unraveling/revealing of the plot was accomplished. I really would have liked to follow the characters further and see whether certain supporting characters survived following their scenes of mysterious demise.

What better fun than to go gallivanting all across the country with a nomadic band of thespians in rag tag glory hunting the next big take and the revelation of an otherworldly, ancient, supernatural mystery? I can’t think of anything…  🙂

Other distractions of late have been Lovecraftian. I’ve gotten back to crocheting teeny Cthulhus in varying hues and listening to podcasts from ( My little creatures look similar to this: 

Which of course is rather adorable and hilarious in comparison to his hideous and terrifying descriptions throughout the Cthulhu mythos.

For those of you perhaps not so familiar with H.P. Lovecraft and the elder gods, doing a google image search of Cthulhu will be rather enlightening for you. 🙂  or perhaps more appropriately-  :3

Other than these distractions, I’ve been watching a lot of movies and scribbling a lot in journals.
The latest movie recommendation I can give is for MicMacs a delightful and very clever French film from the director of Amelie and The City of Lost Children (which of course are both excellent films in their own right).

Sunday I am traveling to Ashland, Oregon to see a play with 3 lovely ladies who are friends, or would-be friends of mine. It promises to be spectacular, even if the play is underwhelming. I have my doubts. (Really? Moliere, 17th century depicted in the 1960s? Psychedelic hypochondriac?) But the road trip promises many delights.

Until next time, my lovely little minions…


Stolen moments & a Smidge of Archeology

On this lovely Friday morning I find myself installed in my local Starbucks with my mini perched companionably on my knees. I have a little time before I have to run off to work (one of the perks of being part-time) and a cup of Earl Grey tea completes the perfection of the experience.

I found the following link posted on tumblr and I had to share it here to spread the knowledge. A fascinating new archeological find was made in China. A remarkably preserved mummy of a woman thought to be 700 years old!

I’ve always found archeology and the study of past cultures to be fascinating. I used to pour over information about Egyptian customs and mummification. It’s something I really should delve into studying again. It was so thrilling!

Farewell for now, fond readers!


Random Bits of Inspiration


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I stumbled upon a few interesting things today. I might as well share them here. 🙂

Firstly, 8 Writing Tips from C.S. Lewis. ( I found this on tumblr today, another source of continual inspiration. If you’re unfamiliar and interested in looking at my tumblr blog <blog, hmm, that’s a funny way to put it… more a collection of pretties and stuff> you can see it at .) Some of these tips are a bit old fashioned, but I’m sure you can conjure up their modern day equivalent.

So, back to the topic- 8 Writing Tips from C.S. Lewis:

1. Turn off the radio.

2. Read good books and avoid most magazines.

3. Write with the ear, not the eye. Make every sentence sound good.

4. Write only about things that interest you. If you have no interests, you won’t ever write.

5. Be clear. Remember that readers can’t know your mind. Don’t forget to tell them exactly what they need to know to understand you.

6. Save odds and ends of writing attempts, because you may be able to use them later. (I’ve read instances in Neil Gaiman’s blog or interviews about how he has frequently be able to resurrect something long abandoned, even if only in part, to fuel something new. Inspiring.)

7. You need a well-trained sense of word-rhythm, and the noise of a typewriter will interfere.

8. Know the meaning of every word you use.


I watched the movie Legion again tonight and there’s a scene in it when a character is describing some bit of wisdom his father passed down to him about being able to go to bed knowing that if this day was your last, being confident that your life was something to be proud of. This is a clumsy wording, but what I got out of it was that I need to examine my own life through that lens every so often and remind myself of the things I have always promised and held in keeping for myself and to gauge how distant I am from attaining whatever that was and whether I would be satisfied in my life if this was all there was. In other words. Get Busy, B! Specifically, I want to write. I have always wanted to write. I do write, but not meat, or main course of what I would desire to. At the moment, I tell myself: any writing is good, just do SOMETHING. And that’s true. But if I ever mean to write that great, wonderful whatever, I have got to start putting forth some real effort and discipline. No matter how young I am, time is short. There will never be as much of it as I think there is. I do not want to look at my life and see how vastly it differed from the achievable aspirations I had all because  I was afraid of failure or unwilling to put forth the real effort involved.

The smallest  things can trigger me, thought-wise. I think I have a lot of things stewing and marinating around in my brain and every now and again the right thing comes along to stir me up and ideas float back to the surface, newly formed. Or maybe it’s more of a dusty shelf metaphor- an apothecaries shop or something like that, housing forgotten wonders only newly found useful. Hmm. 🙂


Here’s a quote I found tonight that triggered some other thought:

“Suddenly for no earthly reason I felt immensely sorry for him and longed to say something real, something with wings and a heart , but the birds I wanted settled on my shoulders and head only later when I was alone and not in need of words.”  ~Vladimir Nabokov from The Real Life of Sebastian Knight

I had previously been  talking with a friend about getting matching tattoos together. We used to work together every day and since I took a job at a different office in the same company, we don’t see each other nearly as often. We remain in touch, but things have changed, as all things must. We decided to get tattoos to further connect ourselves. Little reminders of each other and the idea that we’ll remain connected. Her husband would tattoo them.

Lately, the design has been formalized into incorporating a heart with wings. For me it symbolizes how our hearts will always be able to cross the distance so that we’re never really separated. But it also reminds me of the work that we’ve both done with children and families, working to help parents get their lives straightened out so that they can be the best parents possible for their kids- giving them wings and heart. It’s hard to put the concept into words and they all sound so clichéd. I know a lot of people have a similar tattoo design, but I’m not one to go with what’s popular. It has to have some kind of deeper personal meaning to be permanently etched on my skin. My other tattoos are unique, so anything I get will have to be. Anyway, I’m excited to see  what her artist husband draws up and the above quote struck me quite fiercely when I read it tonight. I have often felt that way- searching for some words that will give flesh to emotion- to give comfort and reassurance or hope. As much as I adore language, it is still so hard to get it to encompass emotion and intent.


I think that’s all I had coalescing in my brain tonight. There’s always something new to ponder over.


2011 and the Nature of Intention.


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So, here’s how things are in this first month of a new year. Life is simplified at present. I wouldn’t say it’s simple, or easy, really, but pared down. I feel like I’m experimenting- testing myself. I’m living on a much reduced income. I have been for some months, but things have still moderately been in flux as far as what jobs I was doing and what income I was supplementing. This month- the end of this month- I will see what it’s like to live on the sum I have been expecting from all these changes, but have yet to experience. Maybe it will wake something up in me. I’m waiting… and I feel like I’ve been waiting a long time.

I don’t mean to be cryptic. That’s no fun to read… and I make no presumptions upon the idea of just how readable this blog is… but what I mean to say is that I don’t  intend to be vague for the sake of manufacturing mystery. I just don’t want to get into all the personal and mundane particulars.

I’m lacking a common element of drive. I don’t have the ambition to attack the job force. I feel like I’ve been waiting- for direction, for my moment, for something. It’s hard to explain. I feel like I lack something because I can imagine what other people would do if they found themselves in my position. I know that I am different. That something about the way I’m made or the decisions I’m making is different from…the norm? From the expected? I don’t know. I just feel… different. And I feel like I have to see this through.

I have a friend, who, for the sake of the blog, I will call D. (This could potentially get complicated as I know a lot of D’s. I’ll deal with that if it comes up.) Anyway- D once expressed the desire to do a social experiment upon herself- to get money…earn money… substantial enough wages to become well-off, or at least comfortable financially… and then live like a pauper… the meager-est of belongings, furnishings, accoutrement, etc, in her life- to be some kind of shabby-chic. I don’t know what the ultimate goal of this proposition was other than perhaps finding out just how little you really need. What you are able to do without and thus if one is more capable then of living a sort of pure life. But the whole idea of this was to live in a way that demonstrates a lack of means while actually having  comfortable means and a personal distance from poverty.

In a strange course of events, D found herself living in a financially forced minimalistic lifestyle. She lived on very little and learned to make do with less than what is generally required, but it was not on her terms. That was a very uncomfortable, painful life experience for her- from my understanding- not having personally lived it myself. And as a result, I think she has learned all she wanted to do from the experience. I do not think she longs for a purist poverty lifestyle anymore. She had to struggle and pull herself into a better life. And it was awful and hard and she had to sacrifice a lot of things. She got all she wanted and far too much more from the ideal made harsh reality.

That was a bit of a digression, but I added all that in to say, I’ve been thinking of my own sort of social experiment. I don’t want to discover the slippery slope that leads to ruin or anything like what it might sound like, but I want to see what I can do with very little and see if I can make more out of it on my own in this new environment and era in my life. I want to see if I can be comfortable, nay- content, with my current lot. I want to see if I can make something of this modest monthly sum. And maybe, if I can make it stretch, if I can generate out of it, if I can feel liberated and unstressed by it, maybe then I can seek after greater things with the confidence that I will know how to manage my funds and my life in such a circumspect way that when I have more, I will not feel the NEED, the Drive, to spend more- to let it all slip so eagerly out of my fingers.  I want to create a different sort of life for myself, and at this moment, I feel like I just may have that opportunity.

Now, I may be deluding myself. I may end up with some sort of harsh awakening. And I intend to take that in stride if it occurs. But I feel like I have to try. I have to try this new things and see where it leads. Maybe at the end of it I will find the strange and liberating epiphany I need. Maybe instead I will find some long-dormant ambition rising up to launch me into job hunt and acquisition frenzy. Maybe I will find equilibrium. I don’t know. But I feel like I have to experiment. Seize the strange opportunity as it slithers beneath my fingertips. Time will reveal what my curiosity hints at.

Maybe you think this is all madness. Some rash sort of foolish endeavor. I’m okay with that. It’s not permanent. I’ve come to learn that nothing is. Nothing. So why not try something outside the proverbial box?


I have some other thoughts I’ve been steeping in. I could separate them all out into a number of smaller blog posts to give them each their due in minutiae. Instead,I think I’ll just include all of what I can remember in one post. I’ll just work on my shoddy transitions. 🙂

Earlier this month I finished reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson. I really liked it. I had a hard time getting into the novel. I had already seen the movie and was sufficiently intrigued by the plot so I knew it had to get better than what I was reading as it began. It just seemed so slow to get started. There was a lot of back-story and set-up required. But, I tell you, once it got started, it picked up momentum so fast and so furiously that I was hooked. There were a lot of subplots and simultaneous storylines going pell-mell over each other and twisting inside and around one another. When the main plot-line of the book reached it’s climax and denouement I paused as life got busy again with only 40 pages remaining. I thought those last 40 pages would be summation and the usual resolution to end the book. I was very wrong. Those last 40 pages had so much packed into them! I talked about this with a friend who had already read it and she stated those last pages could have filled a book all their own. It was just about like that. So much happened. Resolution in a very satisfactory manner and conclusion while also giving you enough of a tease to keep you interested in what happens to the characters as they continue into a new book. And I want to read the next one. I’ve already seen the Swedish film for it, too. Confessionally, I’ve seen the Swedish film for the first book- this one- 3 times, and the film for the second- The Girl Who Played with Fire– twice. I’m waiting for the third film to arrive in the States- and in my area. I’ve heard an American version of the trilogy is in the works, and I’m not sure how I feel about that- not particularly happy, really. I didn’t like the idea of an Americanized Let the Right One In ( aka Let Me In) and I still haven’t seen that version of it. Back to topic- I really like the dynamics of the tenuous relationship between Lisbeth Salandar, the heroine, and Mikael Blomkvist, the hero.

I like the characters themselves and I like them together. And I like the Swedish actors that portray them. The plotlines are fascinating and the writing is very good. Of course, this is my opinion. And I love a good mystery. All that intelligent detection and attention to seemingly innocuous detail. Love it. (I’m not making complete sentences tonight, apparently. Oh well. Feels good anyway. :P)

There are some very violent, brutal scenes in the book, and movies. Very graphic, so reader/viewer beware.

It was interesting to find all the little discrepancies in the film when I was reading the sorce text. But I always consider the text as the ultimate reference point- but the film was great for drawing me in and giving me a good basis on which to elaborate. 🙂


New Years…

I’ve made a few goals for myself this year. Not Resolutions. I don’t like resolutions. They feel like a setup for failure. But goals/plans/ideas/objectives… those words make me feel like I’m changing things already- just my deciding to, and making it more achievable. That’s the whole point- achievable/attainable goals.

So, my goal spectrum this year is as follows:

1. Read something every day.

The main idea this year is intentionality. Doing things intentionally. I can’t count reading a blog or something on tumblr or something in passing. I have to really read something. Preferably a book I’m working through. At present I need to settle on a new one.

2. Write something every day.

This can be blog posts. But I think it will usually be on paper- in my journal. I’ve allowed myself a stipulation- if the day has really been too busy or crazy or I just don’t feel like writing, that’s okay. As long as I write THAT in my journal. One liners are okay. They’re still an act of intention.:)

3. Spend money intentionally.

The money is going to come and go. That’s mostly what money does. But I direct it’s flow. I can decide what I want done. This will mean being faithful to making a monthly budget and charting where the money goes. I can deviate from that a little if I want. The point is to intend to spend it. I know that I need to learn some old fashioned self-control. I am determined to work it like a muscle. I don’t want to guilt myself into big, unnecessary spending like I always used to do, when I had a reasonable income. I want to live smarter. I feel like the only way to get this through to myself, to really get it ingrained in my bones, is to do it the hard way. That’s my choice. But that’s why these are living, breathing goals for the year. They have room to let me change and grow, but are rigid enough to give me the boundaries I need to follow through.

That’s my thought on the Newness of the year. Mostly, I am just so freakin’ glad 2010 is over. That was a hellish year. I’m glad it’s done.


I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. Just doing a lot of thinking. Katie & I have a little inside joke, reminding each other “Ye think too much!” We both do it. I don’t know whether I’ve had more alone time in the last few months or what. Sometimes I live a little too much in my head. It can be a good thing, I just have to keep it in balance. 🙂 True of everything, no?


Hmm… I think I’d better call this quits for now. It’s very late and I’m not gonna have much motivation to function tomorrow if I don’t get to sleep. I’ll try to compile some more interesting things to write about for next time. (That can be taken two ways, haha. More interesting that what you’ve read so far, or more of the very interesting things I come up with. Take your pick. But I’m sure those of you of the previous inclination won’t stick around long and those of the later- you’re my kinda peeps. Yes, I just typed that. I am kooky and I’m okay with that. :P)


This blog’s soundtrack: Nine Inch Nails. Lots of it in various forms. I saw The Social Network earlier today and Reznor is great to write to.

Dusting off the keys



After an exceedingly long hiatus of procrastination, distraction, and coping mechanisms, I blog again. I’ve been busy with job changes and other various daily experiences of the mundane. I don’t really have anything new to report. I’ve been learning how to live on less, planning my life with a smaller budget that I hope will be temporary. I’ve been at home a lot, just existing in a quieter way. And, I have to admit, I’ve been watching a lot of movies. A lot. Rewatching, and watching new ones.

The last week I’ve been without a computer. My laptop registry was corrupted after a batch of updates last Friday and went to my brother’s house for what I hoped would be repairs. He was able to save my files and somehow was able to restore the operating system where all my attempts had failed. So, happily, I have it back and it’s working great now.

Also, I got a new mini for Christmas- an Acer. In fact, I’m using it now. I suddenly find myself with all these options for entertainment, communication, etc., that I was without for the last week. Last week I was scraping the dregs of my mind for some way to keep myself mentally stimulated. I know… I should have been reading, but I was lazy and couldn’t choose a book. So, I watched movies.

I watched The Royal Tenenbaums twice. It’s one of my favorites. I watched every movie in my collection I could stand to watch in such a short interim. I watched an old version of Bleak House and nearly killed myself with mass quantities of Victorian doom and gloom. I watched Dead Silence and freaked myself out again. I rewatched the Firefly season. I watched enumerable dvds. I should be rather ashamed of myself. I realized just how much I love netflix because I was utterly without its instant viewing options.

I know, it sounds like I have no life. It’s very pared down. Minimalistic would be an optimistic term for it. I also worked and spent some time with a friend and did Christmas shopping and wrapped gifts and other little things. I only have one friend in the area that I can arrange to see relatively often. The others have a lot of obligations or opposing work schedules or something else to make spending time together difficult. And of course I spend a lot of time with family. With their loud tv programs and movies, and their small private melodramas. I guard my solitude as much as I can.

This has been a weird little mishmash of whatsits. Nothing to get excited about, aside from the fact that it may mean I’m getting my hand back in. I really need to do some serious writing. And if this gets me started, all the better!

Farewell, lovelies.