My Moccasins

In case anyone is curious, this is the world as I experience it in my moccasins. Or shoes. Monday through Friday I wake up, roll out of bed to make a cup of tea and some toast (cinnamon toast, with raspberry jam, please) and stare at the television for approximately an hour. If I'm lucky I've dvr'd something I actually want to watch, like Eat Street, Unique Sweets, or the Daily Show, and I don't have to suffer through an hour of music I don't listen to on VH1 Jump Start Music, or worse, that infomercial for wen hair products. 



I go to work and sit behind a counter of delicious things. Delicious things that I can smell. Most of the time, I get through this just fine but other more stressful days, like the majority of this past week, make working in the bakery like working in the seventh circle of hell. Because people like me, who can't eat from stress then stress binge-eat, should not be placed in front of a platter of cupcakes. It's just not kind.

So most of the day is taken up by sitting with this here computer on my lap, its batteries burning lovely little stripe-y marks into my legs. Occasionally I read (though now that it's crunch time with school it should be more than occasionally, it should be every day and be my reading list).

This week was incredibly stressful because my school for next year finally saw fit to tell me, after I applied in April, that they could not offer me housing next year. Needless to say this threw my parents into a panic (and me as well). The idea of going overseas with no set place to live made the whole concept of studying abroad that much more unnerving. After scouring the internet for 2 days, trying to figure out based on internet sources what good areas of London are and what the best prices are (shout out to Alysia and yelp, they were a huge help), I am now the proud renter of a little room (and bathroom) in a student complex in a rather hip neighborhood. Allegedly. I'll be sharing a kitchen with 5 other students, which is intimidating because I don't have the best track record with good roommates (or tidy ones, and a tidy kitchen is a must).

 

And now it's essentially August. I only have work for another month, then it's a flurry of family visits, slapdash adventures, packing up everything I have, and boarding a plane for the unknown.  It's very real and it's very unknown. The regulars that come into my work all know about my grand travel plans, and they all say "that's so exciting" in a way that suggests that nobody ever does this. They sort of wonder at me, like I'm this odd child for wanting to leave everything behind to try a new culture, a new city. It makes me very a little alone, honestly. Even if I know that I'm not. That there are loads of people who travel all sorts of places and move all over the place. I just haven't met a lot of these people yet.

 

 

Notes on a Thursday--Summer Mix

It's so bizarre how quickly summer is vanishing into thin air--evaporating, rather like a puddle on a hot day (97 degrees right now, and rising!). I've done some of the things I've wanted to do, and some things I've missed out on, but no matter, no matter! Even though my mind is already churning with the excitement to come in autumn (moving to a new place, starting school again after a year away, autumn fashion (!!)) I still am jamming to my summer tunes. When the weather gets stifling hot I gravitate toward 60s/70s rock, while in winter is dominated by indie-rock and the transitional seasons get a very dreamy, contemplative feel to them. 

This summer is all about:

The Doobie Brothers- Listen to the Music
Jackson Browne- The Road
Fleetwood Mac- Everywhere
The Civil Wars- My Father's Father
Bonnie Raitt- Give it Up or Let me Go
Simon & Garfunkel- Cecilia
Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears- Booty City
Kings of Leon- Pyro
Echo & the Bunnyman- Lips like Sugar
 Stevie Wonder- Superstition
Led Zeppelin- Gallows Pole
The Wailin' Jennys- Storm Comin'
Heart- Magic Man
Warpaint- Undertow
The Greencards- Su Prabhat
Stereogum x Team9- Riders Sleep Alone







Of course this seasonal listening thing isn't a hard and fast rule, but it does seem to follow that way. Does anyone else find their musical choices dictated by the season?

journalism/comedy . . .?

The Daily Show - Accountability in the U.K - David Cameron Kills it
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Particularly in recent years, I love looking at clips of the Daily Show (or watching the whole thing, if I can). He puts a funny spin on what are essentially (because I will admit a liberal/democratic bias) the facts. And when you're laughing, you're not crying or thinking "oh my God, the country is going to pot." And it's nice to not feel that way sometimes.


Whenever Stewart goes on FOX news shows, he always is perfectly clear that he is a comedian first and a journalist/political activist second. He maintains that he's looking for the laugh. Or as my mom likes to say "finding the funny." Also known as my family's major coping mechanism. But if so many people go to his show for legitimate news, is it really still just a comedy show? Or does the line blur somewhere, creating this hybrid form of I don't know what. 


Stewart has also said that it's sad that people are getting their news from a show on Comedy Central, and that a vast number of people seem to think that the Daily Show makes more sense than any other news channel. But is it? I know that I understand humor better than straight talking; as an optimistic person (deep, deep down inside), I tend to shut down and am unable to focus when assaulted with a barrage of doom and gloom (or as my grandparents call the news, "murder and mayhem").

The Daily Show - Welcome Back to Morass - News of the World Schadenfreudegasm
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Let me know when it's over.

I don't know about the rest of the world (specifically the American populace), but this whole debt crisis is giving me a knee-jerk reaction to pull all of my money out of the bank to stash in my closet or under my mattress.But I know that if we all do that, we will have this: 





I understand that, as my grandfather says, "It's [our] generation responsible for the world next. it's [our] turn next!"

But if the current Congress (everyone) could stop driving it into the ground, that'd be awesome.

It All Ends

photo by Annie Leibovitz, for Vanity Fair

Tonight at midnight, my childhood comes to close. I speak, of course, of the premiere of the final installment of the Harry Potter phenomenon. These books and films have been markers of my childhood; the anticipation, standing in line with my friends for their release, is something I can recall with perfect clarity for each film and book. 

Vanity Fair

I was eleven years old when I first read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I first heard about the books at the Scholastic Book Fair (an event that I always looked forward to with bated breath), when the librarian wheeled up the TV and VCR to play a short video. The books sounded odd to me . . . a boy at wizard school. It sounded so mundane, like a picture story. Then my mom brought it home for me to read. It was something she just saw on the shelf and thought I might like. And when I picked it up and opened it to the first page, I became utterly enchanted. It would not be the last time I sat down to read a Harry Potter book and not resurface until I read every last page. 

Entertainment Weekly, via Angliophile meets Bibliophile

In all honesty I forget when and how my Mom and sister read the books, but before I knew it Mom had gone out to get a hardback copy while it was still in the first edition and suddenly the books were a phenomenon. When the first film was preparing for release, we bought the Vanity Fair magazine with the first pictures of the characters I had pictured in my head for so long. And it was just like I had imagined. 

Well. Hermione's hair could have been a bit bigger.

I've never really minded the adaptations Steve Kloves made from page to screen. I've always understood that what translates from the page to your imagination doesn't always work on screen. The films have been so lovely, and the actors have grown up so marvelously.

But what gets my goat (and has, for years) is the movie reviewers who clearly have not read the books (EDIT: I say, have not read the books because while I understand a book just not catching your fancy, but I cannot comprehend reading the entire series and still classifying them as children's literature). I remember after the release of the third film, sending off (or just writing it . . . I can't remember if I ever sent it) a very angry letter to Stephen Hunter of the Washington Post, who, had he read the books, would not have asked so many asinine questions in such a patronizing manner. Even the review today in the New York Times sets my teeth on edge and puts a bitter taste in my mouth. She seems, to me, to indicate that the films have bolstered the books, just silly children's stories, to something greater because the films are "blockbusters." 

(EDIT: my in-house copy editor [my sister] amicably disagrees with me, further proving that interpretation is everything. To go a touch more in depth about it, I find it very jarring when a good review ends on the note that anyone (even someone as magnificently talented as Alan Rickman) "elevated a child's tale of good and evil into a story of human struggle."  Not only does it put a patronizing tone onto an otherwise good review, but the books have always been a story of human struggle. They contain so much more than good and evil. Of course, on a somewhat unrelated note I also take issue with film critics increasing belief that movie-goers need a plethora of explosions and violence to deem it a blockbuster. But that's a debate for another time).

Furthermore, she focuses on the acting talent of the adults and their strengths. She indicated that the children are great in their roles because they have grown up on screen and we are used to them. I find them all to be incredibly nuanced, and each have created some incredible cinematic moments particularly in the last 3 films.
 

Vanity Fair

The Harry Potter books, as all fans know, have never been children's books. Not really. As Rowling herself pointed out, her story begins with a double homicide even if it is off-page. These books have taught me so much about life, about how to be tolerant . . . honestly I can't enumerate all the things that they have taught me. They've just permeated my life.


I don't get angry at people who dislike Potter, for whatever reason. I pity them. As someone said, somewhere on the internet (I can't find it anywhere, of course, but I must give credit to them, whoever they are), I feel sorry that these characters have not lived and breathed with them. The Harry Potter universe is alive, inside my head, and it is as real to me as my friends that live far away. I have cried with them, I have laughed with them, and I have mourned deeply with them. I have thrown these books down in a fit of despair at 4 am, only to pick them up again to find out what happens next. 

Vanity Fair

And when I say I'm not emotionally ready for this, I am kidding for them most part. But believe you me, I will be in tears when I see it tonight. And tomorrow. And the next day. 

I want to go to there (and other great catch-phrases)

I'm currently reading Tina Fey's Bossypants, and semi-recently watched Amy Poehler's Harvard commencement speech (see Fig. 1). It is becoming increasingly clear that these are indeed two epically classy ladies, and that they are in fact the heroes I never knew I had. And yes, I'm aware that I got my invitation to this here party about 5 years late.



If I could find more than two good clips that aren't montages, I would post an overkill of Tina Fey/Amy Poehler weekend updates, because it was epic. But I can't. So just pause and think about it, for a minute.

Tumbling

I've recently gotten into the whole Tumblr thing . . . not for myself because I know I write more than I post pictures, but I still enjoy looking at them. I'm loving Anglophile meets Bibliophile . . . it's like every post came out of my head, only I didn't know that the photos existed. It's so well curated, and incredibly cerebral without being stuffy. 

the latest post . . .

 

scanning life through the picture windows

Does anyone else find it ironic that our noises of celebration on July 4th . . . the boom and crack of fireworks, unseen off in the distance but heard with deep and chest-thrumming clarity . . . are sounds that would (and did) strike fear in the hearts colonial patriots?

Just an errant thought I had standing in my yard, listening to the fireworks at the community park and the shrieks of the little girl across the street, shouting out the colors of some whizzbang her father bought her. The fireflies flashed out their own pyrotechnics, all of them flying to fast or too high for my fingers to close around them. The rain earlier made the grass soft against my feet, two blue-white smudges against the washed out verdancy.

I could see them. The lights from the other houses usually blocked out by foliage from my vantage point, our back porch. I wondered, what the inhabitants might be doing and who they might be. Were the children I went to high school with inside, with their parents? Or had they moved on to greater adventures. The mere thought of them had been enough to give me pause at the screen door, before pushing out down the rough wooden stairs over the rough brick and onto the cool grass.

I wanted to turn a cartwheel, in the deepening pink of the sky and the warm summer air. To run in the grass like a child . . . behavior I honestly didn't really partake in as a child. But I feared someone looking out, identifying me by my long white legs (and the fact that I'm the only young person that lives in the house) and wonder what I was doing, out in the yard by myself. Wandering around in a way that I hadn't done in years. I knew this was utterly ridiculous; it was doubtful that anyone was watching me and even if they were, what did it really matter? 

I'm moving to a new country, to an unknown place. Life is too short to be frightened of stupid things that don't matter.

So I turned two.

John Divola, Dogs Chasing my Car in the Desert series, 1996-200 via suicideblonde

 

Happy "We Committed Tyranny and Won" day

Call me Crazy

but these will be mine:

source: thaitied