you're losing your touch

[one] my faith in the publishing world has begun to fade a bit. are inconsistencies the new thing? do editors actively try to leave in as many of them as possible to make sure the reader is paying attention and/or to annoy the reader to death? does the author add them in at the end, a finishing touch like the chef's parsley on a plate? to be honest, i think i prefer those scenarios to the more likely truth that they are just not getting the editing attention that they need or the editors/authors are not giving each book their all. it bugs me a bit to think that i'm supposed to invest my time and money (most of the time) in something that they didn't care enough about to fix. and then there is the possibility that i have just become the pickiest of all readers lately. i'm starting to think that i may be more suited for the role of editor than the role of author.

[two] a couple of years ago, my youngest brother got very into dragons. (sidenote: while reading over this i somehow read that he got very into drugs and had a "wait! what?" moment) an interest i fully supported, having had my own obsession with them during my childhood and still liking them quite a bit. the interest has only grown, and the other day my grandma bought him an encyclopedia of dragons. it had information on different breeds and their locations, why some of them died out, how long it takes an egg to hatch, the skeletal/digestive/circulatory systems of dragons, etc. as he was excitedly going through the book, making excited comments like "did you know that a dragon can spot treasure from 60,000 feet away? wow!" my sister and i started making whispered comments to each other like, "wait... does he think dragons are real?" later, my grandmother told us that she was wondering the same thing. i mean, the way he talks about them, it really seems like he believes in them, and none of us want to ask him because if he does, well, we're a family that doesn't like to squash the imagination. maybe he thinks that they're like the dinosaurs, real but extinct. either way, you can't prove a negative so for all we know, they might be. 

[three] i was listening to the radio yesterday and some guy was talking about mosquitoes and said that mosquitoes are attracted to dirty socks. basically, the dirtier your socks are, the more likely you are going to be bitten. i'm not sure how much i believe that, but instead of double-checking and getting my facts straight, i'm just going to share it as a piece of interesting and disgusting news. 

*The Diver - Stellastar*

believe in magic that can set you free

so my brother turned eleven yesterday, and as every harry potter reader knows, eleven is a big birthday. bigger than your first double digit age, bigger than your first year as a teen, bigger even than your first year as an adult. eleven is when you find out where you stand: are you a wizard or a muggle?

as i've already mentioned on here, i got him an owl (stuffed of course) and an acceptance letter and had my sister leave them near his bed as he slept so he'd wake up to them. i also got both of my brothers wands. later in the day, as they were jumping around the living room wizard dueling in that way that only someone who has given up all thoughts of dignity and self-consciousness to be a real, nerdy fangirl (or boy i guess) can do, he kept telling his brother, "you know none of your spells can ever work because you're a muggle." his brother kept reminding him that he, too, lacked any real, magical powers, but it never seemed to stick with him. i'm not sure how much of that was because of birthday excitement and how much was due to the fact that when my brother picked up his wand my dad swore that his stuffed owl blinked (and my brother somehow believed him?) but it made me happy to see that imagination and a belief in magic were not something they were growing out of. i hope they never do.

this year i also started taking the birthday boy out for breakfast. if you grew up with siblings that were always having to do everything together, you may remember how cool it was to be able to go out by yourself. anyway, we go to ihop and he orders an orange juice. when he gets it, he takes a sip and says, "is this fresh squeezed? it tastes like it came out of a carton."

he was also telling me about all of the things that he could do now that he was eleven. apparently he was talking to my dad about the same thing earlier that morning, to which my dad replied that eleven year olds have to start cleaning and he made him clean his room. as he was listing off things, he took a sip of water and said, "their water tastes like paper cups. now that i'm eleven, i can criticize things." i gave him a look and asked when he ever didn't criticize things. "i never criticized things before i was a perfectionist," he said matter-of-factly. "and anyway, i just said that now i'm allowed to criticize, not that i never did before."

so eleven: the year of magic, cleaning, and criticism.

on the agenda today is to clean my apartment before my student gets here (did i mention that i restarted tutoring? i can't remember.), do a little schoolwork, and then bake a butterbeer cake for tomorrow. (i had class last night and didn't want to bake a cake for a day that i wouldn't be able to eat it.)

if you want to do something to celebrate this most magical of birthday years, you can buy my book. i know, i know. do i have no shame? using my youngest brother's special day for my own selfish promotion? obviously not.

*Do You Believe in Magic - The Lovin' Spoonfuls 

you're a rotter, mr. grinch, you're the king of sinful sots, your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots

last year i came on here and complained about the idea of santa claus. i said that giving credit to a magical man for all the gifts a parents struggles to get for his/her children was wrong. this year, because i seemingly can't stick to an opinion, i'm here to complain about the opposite.

last year, best buy's commercials all said that santa got his presents from best buy because what they had was cooler than what a magical factory at the end of the world could make. this year, the commercials show moms getting such great presents from best buy that santa is no longer needed. they are doing exactly what i wished they would do last year: taking credit for the gifts.

but for some reason, watching santa become obsolete is more sad than funny. showing that moms who shop at best buy don't need santa is depressing. it's like they're saying that there is no longer any need for magic or wonderment this time of year, which is basically what santa is. a man who rides a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer to deliver presents to children all over the world for nothing but the occasional plate of cookies? yeah, let's get rid of him and then have moms stay up to mock him and rub it in his face that he is no longer needed. what kind of values is that teaching the children? where is your christmas spirit, best buy?

i see now that over the past few years, best buy has been slowly working towards this point of getting rid of santa claus. making him seem less and less competent until they could finally just throw him overboard without causing public outrage. and you know what that means, don't you? the grinch's heart has shrunk back down to three sizes too small, and he owns best buy.

*The Grinch's Theme Song

i'm a weirdo

i just about finished my first paper. i have a few bits and pieces i needa add/change but i just can't bring myself to do them. maybe i'll be more inspired tomorrow morning. doubt it, but here's to hoping. only problem is that he never gave us a page number range and mine (or ours.. whatever) is twenty without the references and appendix. some professors have a problem with papers over ten pages. oh well.

also, a couple of weeks ago (possibly last week? my memory sucks these days) i reread the hunger games series, and i think my mind is still partly living in that world because my conclusion was way too power-to-the-people-let's-start-a-rebellion. if katniss was fighting for network security, i swear my conclusion would have been one of her speeches. i'll have to edit it later and calm it down.

speaking of books, for the past few months i've been living on a tight budget. before i buy anything i do a bunch of calculations in my head and usually decide that gas and textbooks are more important than a lot of things. but now i have money in my account again, and it's all i can do not to go and buy all of amazon. i've been adding things to my cart for the past few months, and i just want all of it. i know there's a responsible money budgeter inside of me, but she's been locked up by the part of me that wants new books. i have to set her free.

on another note, i have this imaginary library in my head that will exist in my house when i grow up. not just a bookshelf, but an entire room dedicated to books and reading. when that happens, i will get this great gatsby poster to put on a wall. i just started rereading gatsby yesterday, and when i was "doing my paper" i came across the poster and decided it was fate. i'm not sure why exactly i fell so in love with it, i mean it's cool and everything, but i need it. just not right now. i think i will also get the pride and prejudice one. and maybe the wizard of oz. (do you ever do that? shop for imaginary places you will own in the future? or am i just certifiable?)

anyway, my mind is really struggling to be coherent right now, but i feel like it's failing miserably. and my blankets are all tangled, and i feel like i'm trapped/being strangled.

oh, and i know that this is an april's fool joke, but i would totally get back into tv to watch it:



*Creep - Radiohead

it's the terror of knowing what this world is about

when my dad was younger he used to read a lot, so i assume he must have had an imagination. but somewhere along the path to growing up, he lost it. maybe it fell into the oceans he flew over it time after time after time. maybe he forgot it in his pocket and the drier stole it to keep the lost socks company. maybe it fell behind the bookcase or is stuck under the couch cushion. maybe it ran off to play with the dust bunnies or maybe one day it just died. maybe it was put out like a flame or crushed under the heel of reality. no matter what happened to it, the important thing is that it's gone.

i remember one time i was saying that i wanted to be a pirate. to live on the sea with no ties to anything that you don't carry with you. to be so totally in control of your future and have it so completely out of your hands at the same time. the whole life was just glittering with impossibility and fantasy and i wanted it. of course, i knew i was falling for the disney romanticized version of pirate life. i knew i was never going to be a pirate. i knew it just as much as i knew that i would never get my castle in the clouds. i talked about it anyway. my dad, though, didn't seem to realize i knew. he went on and on about how pirates are thieves and about how awful life would be and a bunch of other realistic stuff. no matter how much i tried to explain that i didn't really want to be a pirate, that it was just fun to imagine it, he couldn't - or wouldn't - get it.

when my brothers and i finish a book together, we usually have some sort of final discussion about it: the themes, the characters, the plot. after reading tuck everlasting, we debated the pros and cons of living forever. the next day my brother went to my dad and asked him if he would drink from a spring of water that froze you in time, if he would choose eternal life. my dad's answer? that can't happen. everyone grows up; everyone dies. my brother lasted longer than i did with the pirates, saying that he knows it could never happen, but what if. my dad never answered him. he just kept repeating that it could never happen so why think about it?

i wonder if losing your imagination is just a part of growing up, like losing your hair and your memory. if that's true then the day my imagination dies, i might as well die with it. i really don't think i could bear this world without the escapes i can create in my mind. if i suddenly refused to think about things that were "never going to happen," if i woke up one day fully resigned to the fact that life right now is all there is, if i wouldn't clap for tinkerbell "because fairies don't exist so what's the point?" then you should just start planning my funeral. i wonder how the people who grow up with the ability to pen fantastical worlds and calmly discuss the pros and cons of elf labor have managed to hold on to their magic.

is there a defining moment in life where you choose between the technicolor road and the black and white one? or is the choice never yours to make? if you live in reality too long, do you just lose the ability to think beyond it?

*Under Pressure - David Bowie and Queen

it was just my imagination running away with me

this is what happens when there's nothing good on tv and i'm bored of the internet:

there is this huge truck (like a big moving truck or something) struggling in the snow outside our house. it has been trying to get out for at least an hour an a half, and that's only counting from when they turned the corner to our street to get to the mainish street to get to the main street. so of course i assume that they're up to no good, because i mean, really, when the news people say this could be the biggest virginian blizzard for a hundred years who thinks "let's get out the moving truck?" so they are obviously robbers of some sort. and then, when i was watching them struggling in the cold from the warmth of my bed right they did that thing from the movies. you know when the person is standing across the street and then a truck/bus/whatever passes and suddenly the person is gone? yeah that's what happened. they had backed up and shoveled ahead enough that they kinda were able to drive without spinning tires for a bit and they passed my house and the guy disappeared! and there were no footprints where he was standing! (anisah claims i just couldnt see them because of the snow and dark and all. i know better.) so basically, there are some other worldly demon robbers outside in the snow trying to get their moving truck to work.

**Update:** two hours after they started and they have just made it to the mainish street. now a final stretch and they'll be on the main and hopefully shoveled street to go back to their world.

**Update 2:** three and a half hours later and they are right at the edge of the main street. i'm telling you, these demon robbers have patience. i wouldve given up and slept in the truck hours ago.

*Just My Imagination - The Temptations

come out of your cave walking on your hands, and see the world hanging upside down

it has been raining for the past few days. a lot. the street has a shallow river flowing down it. the other night, i was looking out the window at the cars in the little circles of street lamp light.

me: i like how the cars look like they're floating on water because of their reflection in the wet street.

my mom: *stares out the window for a while* i dont see it. i guess my mind just is more practical.

we all see the world differently. the lens i look through is sometimes clouded, putting a fictional overlay on reality. everything gets narrated in my head into something beautifully written. people in strange clothes are part of another world i wish i could see into. leaves dont fall off of trees, they float down gently to the ground on the back of a playful wind. animals can talk to each other, and fireflies are fairies. cars float on water.

other times, the lens is scrubbed clean. there are no greys anymore, just blacks and whites. at these times, my mind is void of creativity. it registers what it sees; it does not narrate. leaves dont float to the ground, they fall, not even with the intent of reaching the ground. they fall aimlessly off the trees, the ground is just where they usually end up. people in strange clothes are most likely homeless or psychopaths or both. fireflies are just another variety of a creepy crawly bug. something is beautiful, or it is not, and my mind does nothing to help it along one way or the other.

yesterday, i was walking through the mist/rain trying to explain to someone why i thought it was gorgeous. how the mist on your face is refreshing and that the way the world seems to empty of people as they all run for shelter has a melancholic beauty. how the grey sky forms a perfect backdrop to a hundred different stories, and everything is just so peaceful and pretty. he thought i was psychotic and insisted on going inside with everyone else.

*The Cave - Mumford and Sons

there is no life i know to compare with pure imagination

i believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge, myth more potent than history, dreams are more powerful than facts, hope always triumphs over experience, laughter is the cure for grief, love is stronger than death. ~ robert fulgham


imagining something is better than remembering something. ~ john irving, the world according to garp


i believe in everything until it's disproved. so i believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. it all exists, even if it's in your mind. who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now? ~ john lennon

*Pure Imagination - Maroon 5