So Joyful!

I have other resolutions, but here’s the first.  I resolve to be more punctual.  In order for me to do that, I really shouldn’t have gotten on the Internet before work in the first place.  Oh well.  Off I go!

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Hello Internet!  I’m not dead, just overextended.  The blog doesn’t a) bring home the bacon, b) shelter or feed me, c) love and cherish me for all my days.  So it’s the first thing to go.  :P

This song is on my Time Life Treasury of Christmas album.  I don’t know who the heck Roger Whittaker is or why this song of his is considered a classic, but he sounds like Frasier.

Cherry Mistmas.

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This morning I have finished listening to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, the acclaimed fantasy-ish novel that made such a stir a few years ago.  Having writen my review on Goodreads, I decided I would republish it here, just for kicks.  :)

~~~

I place Susanna Clarke squarely in the company of Tolkien and Frank Herbert; that is, writers with the ability to imagine absolutely astounding fictional worlds - with incredibly rich and complete histories, cultures and people - but who don’t have the skill to write down a compelling story.  That’s why enjoyed the movie versions of Dune and LOTR, but hated being forced to read them in written form.  What Clarke has written here is a history book, a book that shows off the incredible world she has created.  For that achievement, I applaud her.  Unfortunately, she was so busy being proud of the world she created that she allowed it to get in the way of a story that could grip and keep a reader’s attention.

There are many minor problems, but the major one, in my opinion, is that I don’t care one iota for any of the characters.  Mr. Norrell is a one-dimensional character with no depth or background whatsoever.  He’s a whiny, selfish, naive pill, and that’s the whole length and breadth of his character.  He’s a placeholder for Clarke - a convenient anthropomorphic figurehead for the collection of books Strange needs to consult.  Other than that, he’s totally unnecessary to the plot or the story in general.  Strange’s character vascillates back and forth from a heroic nice guy to a self-amusing cad, such that the reader can never get to know his character comfortably.  It’s as if Clarke was writing him differently on different days, and then shuffled her papers.  Plus, Strange goes inexplicably from being a feckless gentleman to a powerful magician - something Clarke doesn’t explain (unless there was a CD missing from my audiobook, which there was not).

Clarke does that a lot- making sudden character changes that move the character/plot forward or tie up a thread without bothering to explain how or why this change occurs.  The fate of Lascelles is another example.  It’s as if Clarke suddenly went, “Uh oh, the ending’s coming and I have to do something with this guy.  I’ll just do…this.”  And poof, his thread is removed from the story, without really resolving anything.

Then there are the footnotes.  If we’re trying to show off the incredible world and history that Clarke has invented, bravo.  If we’re trying to totally interupt the flow and momentum of the story every other word so that we can never just settle in and enjoy a compelling tale, bravo again.  And it isn’t just the footnotes that do this.  A huge complaint of mine is that every character talks like the footnotes, regardless of class, gender or situation.  Even servants give long drawn-out explanations of things, using words and grammar that real people of their class in real situations just wouldn’t use.  I could sum up Clarke’s use of dialogue in six words: REAL PEOPLE DON’T TALK LIKE THAT.  I know she was trying to imitate the 19th century style of Jane Austin and the like, but even Austin knew that servants talked differently than gentlepeople.  And Austin’s characters didn’t sound like they narrating a book.  They sounded like people talking.  Clarke’s did not.  They sounded like Clarke trying to tell us more about her great world that she thought up.  (And I’m not referring to the accent or inflection conferred by the audiobook voice actor.  I’m talking about the actual words put into the characters’ mouths.)

Other readers must be seeing something I’m not, since this book won the Hugo and other such awards, and was named The Best of This, and The Best of That all over the place.  Perhaps I gave it an unintended handicap by listening to the audiobook, so that I received it through the interpretation of the voice actor (with whom I was less than pleased).  I will keep the printed book on my shelf and give it another shot sometime, since it certainly must have earned the acclaim it has received, which means that I’m the one who’s wrong.  :)

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I am the proud renter of an apartment!  I looked at it yesterday and wrote a deposit check on the spot; today I signed the lease and got the keys.

What makes this apartment so wonderful is that, for the first time, I actually have correctly apportioned rooms.  By this I mean that for the first time I have a real kitchen with space for a kitchen table; a living-room shaped living room with space for a couch, chair, bookcase, tv, etc.; a closet with space for clothes, etc.; a separate closet with space for linens, storage, etc.; and the pièce de résistance: a bedroom with space for a bed!!!

Neither of my first two apartments had a bedroom.  In my first apartment I had my bed sort of sticking out in the middle of the room next to the kitchen table (not in the kitchen).  In my second apartment I had no bed at all, and instead slept on a smaller-than-twin-sized futon mattress in the very center of my one room, so that I basically had to step on it to get from anywhere to anywhere else.  But now I have a bedroom.  I real bonafide bedroom with windows and a door and just the right amount of space for a bed and a desk or dresser and perhaps something else.

You have no idea what this means to me.

The rest of the apartment is awesome too.  Especially the kitchen, which is small but adorable.  It has a nook.  A nook for a table.  In the kitchen.  You don’t understand the importance of this concept for me.

What else makes my apartment so awesome, you ask?  Why, the fact that it’s in the town I grew up in, of course.  So I will feel way more than right at home.  More awesomely, my place is almost literally downtown.  I’m within very easy walking distance of the entire gamut of town stuff.  Two blocks from the library on Main Street.  Everything else is within another block or two or three.  Grocery store, movie theatre, video store, chinese takeout, french cafe catered by the New England Culinary Institute, the best pad thai ever made, coffee shops, Ben & Jerry’s, lots o’ cute clothing/book/trinkety stores, State House lawn (for summer concerts, fireworks, etc.), elementary and middle schools (for events and volunteering), auto garage, hardware store, bike path, performance theatre (for community plays/musicals), dance studio (for tap dancing class), hairdresser, post office.  My bank, the high school, and the co-op are a slightly longer but still very reasonable walk away.

I’m still only about half an hour from work.  The apartment’s in an adorable neighborhood of huge old wonderful houses converted into multiple apartments.  It’s quiet, clean and very respectable.  Off-street parking right next to my door, which is outside entry and even has an awning.  Lots of windows so I can finally have an apartment with a) light, b) air circulation.  The heat works extremely well without being stuffy (perfect for the perpetually-cold me who cannot, alas, breathe very well in hot air).  The rent is unbelievably low for the town, the location, and the apartment.  I’m allowed to have Flakey, and it looks like there are occasional mice, which means he’s going to love it too.

Best of all, it’s the first place I’ve ever had that I can think of as something other than temporary.  In my first place, I knew I would only be there for a few years until I went back to school.  In my second place I knew I would only be there for two years while I was in grad school.  Now I’m not going anywhere, because I love my job and I’m happy.  So this is a real home.  A permanant-until-someday home.

Dude.

The move-in process will be slow and drawn out, I’ll link to pictures as they’re available.  I should probably have the electricity turned on first.

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Huzzah!  Two-day work week!  Finish today, then off the family’s camp to write write write.

It’s snowing!  This is not remarkable, since the ground has been covered with 3 inches of snow since Friday, but it’s still wonderful and beautiful and happy-making!

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Attention!  VIN (Very Important News) to follow!

My aunt has been researching the ancestry of her family, and has been successful in tracing the family’s lineage all the way back to…

…a viking king.

That’s right, folks.  I am the direct descendant of a viking king.  We even have a family (clan?) crest!

This explains everything.  I can’t tell you the sense of identity that this gives me.  I now truly understand who I am. 

From now on, I’m going to tell the kids at school that they had better behave for me or else, because I’m a viking!

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Considering that the per-day quota for NaNoWriMo is 1,667 words, and that I’m at 1,282 total, I don’t think I’m going to make it to 50,000 by the end of the month.  You know, whoever decided that November was the month for this project is an idiot.  November is one of the most difficult months of the year!  What with family and friends events over Veteran’s Day, and of course Thanksgiving, it’s impossible.  Not to mention that November is a terrible month for students and educators.  That means me.  I think that next year NaNoWriMo should be in Febuary.  Absolutely nothing interesting happens in February.

Tonight I peeked at some of my other writing, which was mostly stuff I started before grad school, or during the summer between my two years.  I assumed that, like most of my stuff, it would be crappy drafts or incomplete ideas.  A couple of things, however, were actually quite good when I read them.  I realize now that perhaps I could actually write something decent and publish it.  To think!

One in particular struck me.  It’s a first person account told in small bursts of three or four paragraphs each.  Every odd ‘chapter’ is the story itself.  The even ‘chapters’ are reflective or remeniscent on the MC’s part.  I had only written the first four chapters, but they’re quite good.  I think I’ll actually finish this one, and it should turn into a decent short story.  :)

Another that I’m interested in doing is something that isn’t actually written down, but it’s been in my head for quite a while.  It’s basically epistolary, with two characters writing letters to each other.

As an aside, I’ve noticed that almost all my stories have a back-and-forth structure like these two.  Exchanged letters, alternating between general and linear–  My book, in particular, has a structure that goes back and forth between two time periods.  How odd that I’ve developed a stylistic tendancy without actually completing anything.

Anywho, nothing gets done by blogging.  Off to write!

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I never thought I had a “type” (a particular physique I’m attracted to in a guy) until srah visited me this summer.  No, I’m not attracted to srah (despite her being just the cutest thing to ever grace Ohio’s presence).

We were watching episode 8 of Flight of the Conchords, and I asked her why everybody is so gaga over Jemaine.  She responded in a tone of slight disdain, “Because he’s the funny one.”  This, of course, had never occurred to me, because I had always been interested in Bret by default.  And since the world revolves around me, I assumed that everyone else in the world would also find him much more attractive than Jemaine.  Aparantly, everyone else didn’t get the memo.

Later, we entered a conversation about guys’ body types (I don’t know exactly how the subject came up).  I noted for the first time that most of the guys I had dated were all taller than me and rather lanky (except for one of my serious boyfriends and one guy I dated that didn’t turn into a boyfriend).  Srah pointed out that the word I was looking for was “weedy” (referring to Jemaine’s description of Bret in Bret, You Got It Goin’ On).

Eureka!  It was as if someone had finally told me what that pesky X stood for in all those algebra problems.  And looking at my life and my tastes, I knew it to be true.

Tall, lanky, with muscles that don’t look muscley.  To me, it’s the epitome of male physical attractiveness.  This explains why I prefer Bret McKenzie to Jemaine Clement, Graham Chapman to Michael Palin, Donald O’Connor to Gene Kelly, Arnold Rimmer to Dave Lister, etc.  It explains why I just didn’t feel any chemistry at all with that one guy I dated that didn’t turn into a boyfriend.

The one serious boyfriend with a different physique can be explained by another preference of mine.  I’ve known for a long time that, above the neck, the men I find the most handsome all have square jaws and blocky heads.  (That doesn’t sound very flattering when I describe it.)  Anywho, this explains that boyfriend.  It also explains my obsession with Michael Shanks, my love of Liam Neeson, and the rise in my temperature when I see Tom Welling.

So how to explain Daniel Craig?  Simple.  My third weakness is simply that I think the most attractive physical feature in a man is a strong back and shoulders.  Have you seen Daniel Craig’s shoulders???

It is important to note, however, that none of these men can ever hold a candle to that paragon of manhood: Ewan McGregor.  He is, was, and always shall be the man I find most attractive in the entire world.  I mean, he’s Obi-Wan.  ‘Nuff said.

On the subject of a very sexy Chris Barrie (Arnold Rimmer), enjoy this:

And so end the superficial late-night ramblings of Katie, alone on a Sunday night, much too far away from her latest beau (who, FYI, is deliciously tall and weedy, and a cyclist, so the muscles are there).

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Whenever srah doesn’t tag anybody for a meme, I do it.  So here goes:

1. I have gravel embedded in both my elbows, as a result of falling off my skateboard in fifth grade.  I was skating on the sidewalk in the spring in Vermont, which means there was a heavy covering of leftover sand on the roads and sidewalks from the wintertime.  Needless to say, I carry it with me everywhere.  :)  (I also have a pencil lead embedded in my left hand, and have since seventh grade!)
2. I know that the defendent in To Kill A Mockingbird was shot 17 times, because my birthday is October 17th.  I don’t remember any of the characters’ names, but I know Gregory Peck was in the movie adaptation, which I’ve never seen.
3. In fifth grade, we had to cut paper snowmen into pieces, and then within one quarter read the same number of books as pieces we cut.  I cut mine into 14 pieces.  In a subsequent parent-teacher meeting, my teacher mentioned this as an example of how totally unreasonable I was and how I didn’t take her class seriously.  The truth is, I was just challenging myself, because I knew I was a good reader and could do it.  And I did it successfully, just to piss her off because I hated hated hated my 5th grade teacher.
4. Incidentally, in the same parent-teacher conference, she criticized how I wanted to write a book, saying it was another example of my unreasonableness.  Just because I had the whole story planned out, including a structure of 30 chapters, didn’t make me unreasonable.  And why would a teacher want to squelch those kinds of ambitions, anyway?  Man, I sure did hate her.
5. In our family, there’s a tradition that the first son’s middle name is the mother’s maiden name.  So my dad’s middle name is Keas (for his mom’s maiden name) and my brother’s middle name is Conrad (my mom’s maiden name).  Neither of my siblings carried on the tradition, so it’s up to me, and I intend to make sure it’s done.  Fortunately, my last name would make an acceptable middle name (though we shall not mention it on this blog).
6. The only thing in the world that I’m allergic to (that I’m aware of) is cat fleas.  If they bite me, the bite swells up huge and when I scratch it all this icky stuff comes out.  It’s horrid.  When I was little, my cat had fleas and slept on my bed.  I had to sleep in another room for a week while we got rid of the fleas.  I was miserable because I had giant disgusting bites all over me.
7. I can sing all the words to Yakko’s World and Goin’ Down, among many other things¹.  I am very proud of this, because they required exactly the kind of obsessive compulsive repetition to memorize that I specialize in.  I am therefore doubly frustrated that I’m totally incapable of singing the extremely simple I Got Rhythm without screwing up the words².

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1 Davy Jones was probably my very first celebrity crush.  I used to watch the reruns way back in the 80s.  Even as a child, I preferred old tv to contemporary stuff.  Sad, really.

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