Pet Peeve #1:
The term "pet peeve". I have disliked it since the first time I recall hearing it. I'm not sure why (or why I still use it on occasions such as these...). The same goes for "fav" or "fave" instead of "favorite" (though in the time of Twitter, one may be excused for using the abbreviation under duress-- stupid 140 character limit!).
Pet Peeve #2:
Introductions (or cover/jacket-flap blurbs) that give away the story (in a book, but spoilery blurbs on DVDs are just as annoying). Personally, I've rarely read an introduction that didn't give away something-- and frequently, everything-- so why do publishers insist on putting them at the front of the book?! These days, I know enough to carefully skip introductions, so I'm safe-- but it's still irritating. Maybe they think that so few people actually read introductions that it won't be a problem, but in that case, why bother with them at all? It feels more like they assume that you've read the book before-- a dangerous and baseless assumption. Either that or they delight in ruining things for other readers.
It's a temptation: "Hey, you! Yeah, you with the book! I know you're a reader. (You've got a book in your hands right now, haven't you?) I know you're the type who'll read anything-- cereal boxes, toothpaste labels, even the occasional piece of junk mail. Why not try a nice, juicy introduction, eh? {sly smile} What's that? Spoilers? No, no, nothing like that here. What, you think we'd be rude enough to put spoilers in an intro? What kind of sense would that make? No, I assure you, you're safe reading this one. In fact, if you don't read it, you'll be missing out on all sorts of relevant information about the author's history-- things that would make reading the novel so much richer an experience. Here. Why not just try the first paragraph? If that one turns out ok, you can read further..."
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Driver's License & Books
Driver's License--
Last Friday, I got mine renewed. And as far as the state knows, I still weigh a modest 115 pounds. The woman* I dealt with handed me a printed slip (like a receipt) and asked me to review my information and sign at the bottom if it was correct. I hesitated, then "admitted" that the weight wasn't quite accurate. I got the impression that she didn't really care and would probably prefer if I just signed the darn thing, since otherwise she'd have to go to the trouble of entering the new information and printing out a revised slip for me to sign. Very well, then! As I don't see how it makes any real difference one way or the other, I shall remain 115 pounds-- at least for the next four years.
*Or should I call her a girl? She was probably younger than I am. This is something I still have trouble coming to terms with-- that so many of the "service people" I have cause to interact with in the everyday world are actually younger than I am, now. Of course, this will only become more common as time goes by, but it still feels strange, when I think about it.
Books--
I finished reading Don't Look Now (Daphne du Maurier) a couple weeks or so ago. I think "The Birds" was my favorite story in the collection. "The Blue Lenses", "Kiss Me Again, Stranger", and "Don't Look Now" were also a cut above the rest, in my opinion. "Indiscretion" and "La Sainte-Vierge" felt like they didn't quite belong with the rest of the stories... "Split Second" is an interesting concept, but left me frustrated and disappointed. And "Monte Verità "... Well, I found it to be a bit of a snoozefest, to be honest. Anna and her whole "no possessions / truth quest" thing was mostly irritating and left me ice cold. (Obviously I'm not one of the sacred Chosen Ones. Oh well.) All in all, though, worth a read if you like tales of the macabre.
After that, I read Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I can't recall where I originally heard about it, but the title and blurb intrigued me. I found it an absorbing read-- one of those novels where not a whole lot seems to happen (apart from a few notable exceptions), yet you're still compelled to keep reading. The "twist" wasn't much of a surprise. I think most readers must at least consider that possibility, even if they aren't certain about it. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to suffer from the lack of a startling revelation.
I've never been an avid reader of poetry (even less so now that no-one "makes" me read it), so maybe my opinion on this is skewed, but I feel this story has a poetic atmosphere-- poetic prose. It's partly that the narrator, Merricat, has a vivid (often morbid) imagination and an odd way of looking at things. It's also Constance's appreciation of and attention to little things (gardening, preparing food) that makes them seem so vital and all-consuming and beautiful. Whatever it is, it's an unusual concoction-- a mix of uneasiness with cozy comfort-- the familiar mingling with the bizarre.
I've since read that the author suffered from agoraphobia, which (if true) explains a lot about the novel. Almost all the novel takes place within the confines of a carefully fenced property, and as the story progresses, their world gets smaller and smaller. I can sympathize, as I am something of a homebody-- usually happiest when not out in the world, not having to interact face-to-face with many strangers-- generally content to stay in my own little place, walking the same paths, following the same routines. However, by the very end...
Um... There will be some spoilers in this next paragraph...
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
S
As I was saying, by the very end, even I found their circumstances cramped and sad. Cardboard over the windows? Junk piles as barriers against the world? Resorting to wearing tablecloths-- being afraid that one of their two whole teacups might break-- rather than taking some of their (apparently plentiful supply of) money into town and buying the necessities? They profess their happiness-- the last words of the novel-- but I felt sad for them.
E
N
D
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
S
Ok! Done with spoilers, now!
In the meantime, I also listened to an audio versions of The Hunger Games and read Catching Fire. (I'd seen them mentioned a couple of times in different places, and then Rachel started tweeting about how great they were, so I had to check them out.) They're YA novels-- kind of like a more violent, frightening version of The Giver-- about a distopian future in which children/teens are forced into a fight-to-the-death for the amusement of a "Capitol" audience-- and as a reminder of the Capitol's dominance of the citizens of territories that once attempted a revolt. It's an action-packed series with a gripping storyline. I'm looking forward to the last novel in the trilogy, due out this month. (This is one of the benefits of waiting a while before you start reading series.)
Last Friday, I got mine renewed. And as far as the state knows, I still weigh a modest 115 pounds. The woman* I dealt with handed me a printed slip (like a receipt) and asked me to review my information and sign at the bottom if it was correct. I hesitated, then "admitted" that the weight wasn't quite accurate. I got the impression that she didn't really care and would probably prefer if I just signed the darn thing, since otherwise she'd have to go to the trouble of entering the new information and printing out a revised slip for me to sign. Very well, then! As I don't see how it makes any real difference one way or the other, I shall remain 115 pounds-- at least for the next four years.
*Or should I call her a girl? She was probably younger than I am. This is something I still have trouble coming to terms with-- that so many of the "service people" I have cause to interact with in the everyday world are actually younger than I am, now. Of course, this will only become more common as time goes by, but it still feels strange, when I think about it.
Books--
I finished reading Don't Look Now (Daphne du Maurier) a couple weeks or so ago. I think "The Birds" was my favorite story in the collection. "The Blue Lenses", "Kiss Me Again, Stranger", and "Don't Look Now" were also a cut above the rest, in my opinion. "Indiscretion" and "La Sainte-Vierge" felt like they didn't quite belong with the rest of the stories... "Split Second" is an interesting concept, but left me frustrated and disappointed. And "Monte Verità "... Well, I found it to be a bit of a snoozefest, to be honest. Anna and her whole "no possessions / truth quest" thing was mostly irritating and left me ice cold. (Obviously I'm not one of the sacred Chosen Ones. Oh well.) All in all, though, worth a read if you like tales of the macabre.
After that, I read Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I can't recall where I originally heard about it, but the title and blurb intrigued me. I found it an absorbing read-- one of those novels where not a whole lot seems to happen (apart from a few notable exceptions), yet you're still compelled to keep reading. The "twist" wasn't much of a surprise. I think most readers must at least consider that possibility, even if they aren't certain about it. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to suffer from the lack of a startling revelation.
I've never been an avid reader of poetry (even less so now that no-one "makes" me read it), so maybe my opinion on this is skewed, but I feel this story has a poetic atmosphere-- poetic prose. It's partly that the narrator, Merricat, has a vivid (often morbid) imagination and an odd way of looking at things. It's also Constance's appreciation of and attention to little things (gardening, preparing food) that makes them seem so vital and all-consuming and beautiful. Whatever it is, it's an unusual concoction-- a mix of uneasiness with cozy comfort-- the familiar mingling with the bizarre.
I've since read that the author suffered from agoraphobia, which (if true) explains a lot about the novel. Almost all the novel takes place within the confines of a carefully fenced property, and as the story progresses, their world gets smaller and smaller. I can sympathize, as I am something of a homebody-- usually happiest when not out in the world, not having to interact face-to-face with many strangers-- generally content to stay in my own little place, walking the same paths, following the same routines. However, by the very end...
Um... There will be some spoilers in this next paragraph...
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
S
As I was saying, by the very end, even I found their circumstances cramped and sad. Cardboard over the windows? Junk piles as barriers against the world? Resorting to wearing tablecloths-- being afraid that one of their two whole teacups might break-- rather than taking some of their (apparently plentiful supply of) money into town and buying the necessities? They profess their happiness-- the last words of the novel-- but I felt sad for them.
E
N
D
S
P
O
I
L
E
R
S
Ok! Done with spoilers, now!
In the meantime, I also listened to an audio versions of The Hunger Games and read Catching Fire. (I'd seen them mentioned a couple of times in different places, and then Rachel started tweeting about how great they were, so I had to check them out.) They're YA novels-- kind of like a more violent, frightening version of The Giver-- about a distopian future in which children/teens are forced into a fight-to-the-death for the amusement of a "Capitol" audience-- and as a reminder of the Capitol's dominance of the citizens of territories that once attempted a revolt. It's an action-packed series with a gripping storyline. I'm looking forward to the last novel in the trilogy, due out this month. (This is one of the benefits of waiting a while before you start reading series.)
Monday, July 26, 2010
Cheerful Tunes ;o)
I haven't embedded music in a while. (And sometimes I can't find the song I want for my little Playlist widget in the sidebar, so YouTube it is.) So... This entry will be a boring bunch of music-themed rambling. Sorry, something else next time.
This entry's title? Chosen because this first song isn't exactly cheerful, yet I still find myself playing it a lot lately:
(The video itself is kind of pointless-- just a few photos of the band, I guess.)
The Rosebuds have been a bit of a musical obsession lately. I'm also enjoying "Life Like", "Border Guards", "Cape Fear", and (to a lesser degree) "Another Way In".
(Incidentally, I feel obliged to comment that I don't necessarily endorse the lyrics of these or any other songs I may link to in my blog. (g) I'm usually listening for melodies, harmonies, etc.-- not so much the words. I know, lyricists everywhere simultaneously give me the evil eye-- but sorry, it's still true.)
This next one continues the cheerful theme. With a name like "Apocalypse Lullaby", you know it's cheery! ;o) However, since I can't find the version sung by The Wailin' Jennys, here's one of some man I don't know playing it on his guitar-- so it's lacking the lyrics... so you can just pretend it's about something nicer than the apocalypse. (g) "Fluffy Baby Bunnies Lullaby", perhaps?
He did a good job (especially if he figured it all out for himself)!
One more, then...
Despite the title, "Terrified", it's a love song.
Favorite things about the song-- the lush (somewhat Asian-sounding) background and the main repeat in the melody.
Well, enough of that for a while. Something a little more real next time, as we agreed earlier.
This entry's title? Chosen because this first song isn't exactly cheerful, yet I still find myself playing it a lot lately:
(The video itself is kind of pointless-- just a few photos of the band, I guess.)
The Rosebuds have been a bit of a musical obsession lately. I'm also enjoying "Life Like", "Border Guards", "Cape Fear", and (to a lesser degree) "Another Way In".
(Incidentally, I feel obliged to comment that I don't necessarily endorse the lyrics of these or any other songs I may link to in my blog. (g) I'm usually listening for melodies, harmonies, etc.-- not so much the words. I know, lyricists everywhere simultaneously give me the evil eye-- but sorry, it's still true.)
This next one continues the cheerful theme. With a name like "Apocalypse Lullaby", you know it's cheery! ;o) However, since I can't find the version sung by The Wailin' Jennys, here's one of some man I don't know playing it on his guitar-- so it's lacking the lyrics... so you can just pretend it's about something nicer than the apocalypse. (g) "Fluffy Baby Bunnies Lullaby", perhaps?
He did a good job (especially if he figured it all out for himself)!
One more, then...
Despite the title, "Terrified", it's a love song.
Favorite things about the song-- the lush (somewhat Asian-sounding) background and the main repeat in the melody.
Well, enough of that for a while. Something a little more real next time, as we agreed earlier.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A Matter of Great Importance
I have to renew my driver's license this month.
This has brought up something of a mini-dilemma.
No, it's nothing to do with how to make sure the photo is decent this time. I've long since given up on that. I will look chubby, round-faced, remarkably unremarkable, and probably oily, no matter how carefully groomed and posed I am. But I guess that's ok. I hardly ever have occasion to show the horrid thing, and practically everyone's driver's license photo is awful, right?
No, the thing that's got me worried (or okay, not "worried" so much as "perplexed"... and not "perplexed" so much as "idly curious") is a weightier issue altogether. (Ha ha. "Weightier". The wit continues to sparkle.) You see, it's my weight.
As far as the great State of Alabama knows, my weight hasn't changed since I got my first driver's license at the age of eighteen. (I was a late bloomer, automotively speaking.) However, as far as I (and my clothes... and those who've been around me the last 10+ years) know, my weight actually has changed. That's right. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't really weigh a mere 115 pounds. (I hope I didn't shock any of you too much just then...) Honestly, I may not have weighed quite that little even at eighteen. Back then, I foolishly expected that they would weigh you and measure your height at the DMV, like they do at the doctor's office, so when the time came to fill out the paperwork, I had to guess.
I've had my license renewed a couple of times since then, but unless I'm remembering incorrectly, no-one ever comes right out and asks, "Is this your real weight?" They may ask if the address-type information is still correct, but they've never looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Um, ma'am, it says here you weigh 115 pounds... and since that's obviously not the case..." In brief, no-one has called me out for allowing the state to keep believing I'm skinny. It is perhaps unlikely that anyone ever will. (I wonder, though. At what point will they come out and gently suggest that maybe you weight closer to 400 pounds than 120?)
However. I don't see myself ever being 115 again. It probably wouldn't even be a healthy weight for me, at this point. I'd like to work my way down 20 pounds or so-- see where in that range is a good, healthy, maintainable weight for me, but that's going to take time. More than the week or two I have left to renew my license, certainly. (Darn it. Too bad it's not that quick and easy!)
So my dilemma is this-- Do I come right out and say something about it, this time? "Oh, by the way, my weight is wrong on the old card. I'm actually XYZ pounds, now." (And hope they won't notice what a big jump in numbers that is... (g)) Or do I keep quiet and let Alabama go on thinking I'm supermodel thin? ;o) I'm sure the workers (most of whom are women) can tell when a woman weighs more than her information says-- and most of them probably fudge the truth a little, themselves. (Doesn't everyone?)
Also, if I do decide to correct the number, how far should I go? I mean, I am trying to lose a little weight. If I tell them the exact number I am now, and then I succeed in losing 10 or 15 pounds (or more) in the next four years, I'll have to get them to change it again. (And I wouldn't want to create too much extra work for them, you know. That's the only reason I'd ever want to not tell them precisely how much I weigh at this very moment, of course.)
One way or the other, I'll have to decide soon. The old (hideous photo) license expires August 1st.
P.S. Oops. Accidentally hit "publish" before I was done. Sorry if you RSS-feed readers got this one twice!
This has brought up something of a mini-dilemma.
No, it's nothing to do with how to make sure the photo is decent this time. I've long since given up on that. I will look chubby, round-faced, remarkably unremarkable, and probably oily, no matter how carefully groomed and posed I am. But I guess that's ok. I hardly ever have occasion to show the horrid thing, and practically everyone's driver's license photo is awful, right?
No, the thing that's got me worried (or okay, not "worried" so much as "perplexed"... and not "perplexed" so much as "idly curious") is a weightier issue altogether. (Ha ha. "Weightier". The wit continues to sparkle.) You see, it's my weight.
As far as the great State of Alabama knows, my weight hasn't changed since I got my first driver's license at the age of eighteen. (I was a late bloomer, automotively speaking.) However, as far as I (and my clothes... and those who've been around me the last 10+ years) know, my weight actually has changed. That's right. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't really weigh a mere 115 pounds. (I hope I didn't shock any of you too much just then...) Honestly, I may not have weighed quite that little even at eighteen. Back then, I foolishly expected that they would weigh you and measure your height at the DMV, like they do at the doctor's office, so when the time came to fill out the paperwork, I had to guess.
I've had my license renewed a couple of times since then, but unless I'm remembering incorrectly, no-one ever comes right out and asks, "Is this your real weight?" They may ask if the address-type information is still correct, but they've never looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Um, ma'am, it says here you weigh 115 pounds... and since that's obviously not the case..." In brief, no-one has called me out for allowing the state to keep believing I'm skinny. It is perhaps unlikely that anyone ever will. (I wonder, though. At what point will they come out and gently suggest that maybe you weight closer to 400 pounds than 120?)
However. I don't see myself ever being 115 again. It probably wouldn't even be a healthy weight for me, at this point. I'd like to work my way down 20 pounds or so-- see where in that range is a good, healthy, maintainable weight for me, but that's going to take time. More than the week or two I have left to renew my license, certainly. (Darn it. Too bad it's not that quick and easy!)
So my dilemma is this-- Do I come right out and say something about it, this time? "Oh, by the way, my weight is wrong on the old card. I'm actually XYZ pounds, now." (And hope they won't notice what a big jump in numbers that is... (g)) Or do I keep quiet and let Alabama go on thinking I'm supermodel thin? ;o) I'm sure the workers (most of whom are women) can tell when a woman weighs more than her information says-- and most of them probably fudge the truth a little, themselves. (Doesn't everyone?)
Also, if I do decide to correct the number, how far should I go? I mean, I am trying to lose a little weight. If I tell them the exact number I am now, and then I succeed in losing 10 or 15 pounds (or more) in the next four years, I'll have to get them to change it again. (And I wouldn't want to create too much extra work for them, you know. That's the only reason I'd ever want to not tell them precisely how much I weigh at this very moment, of course.)
One way or the other, I'll have to decide soon. The old (hideous photo) license expires August 1st.
P.S. Oops. Accidentally hit "publish" before I was done. Sorry if you RSS-feed readers got this one twice!
How Lazy Are We, Exactly?
I understand the appeal of convenience foods-- I truly do. I've made Hamburger Helper, instant pudding, mashed potatoes from flakes and so on. I don't turn my nose up at a box-mix cake. Trust me-- I get it. Sometimes you need something quick and easy (or you're just not confident enough to cook or bake without the safety net). However, there are limits-- or at least I thought there were. Now... I'm not so sure:
Why waste a whole two or three minutes measuring out spices when you can get them pre-measured? (This is going to save me so much time! Think of everything I'll get accomplished in the time I used to waste rummaging through my spice cabinet and fumbling around with measuring spoons! It's going to change my life.)
You get a recipe card, too, but these days, you can find a hundred different recipes for practically any dish you can imagine, for free, online.
I have a feeling these won't be around for long.
You get a recipe card, too, but these days, you can find a hundred different recipes for practically any dish you can imagine, for free, online.
I have a feeling these won't be around for long.
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