Tidbits: September Edition

Picture / Photo Find

Something I Did

Perhaps this month should be about something I didn't do, haha. As you've already gathered, I've been back in school for a few weeks now (we start early in Florida). My to-be-graded folder is fattening every day and I think that most of my new files open on my laptop consist of splendid power points and worksheets. The rain is unrelenting, so much so that I haven't had the opportunity to trek on over across campus to pick up some sushi and pomegranate iced tea. One of my office mates is determined to refashion her cubicle with a new theme - something very pink and French - but even she's been busy enough to have her cubicle unfinished and thirsting for a new face.

I did, in fact, go to Disney this past weekend. Epcot again. I love that park - it's so relaxing, and yet there's always and adventure waiting around the corner. As I waited in line for Soarin', I listened to an unhappy family complain about dinner reservations and the long plane ride back home. A little boy and his mother sat near me in the first row and eventually got off the ride before it started. The boy was apparently scared to go up in the air... it went like this:

Boy: How are we going to fly?

Mother: By magic!

Boy: O_O

Note to self: if your child is scared of a harmless ride, do not ever feed the fire by throwing magic into the mix. They'll miss out on, in this case, a glorious sky-tour of California.

A Quote from a Book I Love

I raided the public library down the street for the first time in months; the books in my arms piled all the way up to my chin. What I sight I must have been - most people come to the library to use the computers, haha. I picked up, among other delights, two books by Shannon Hale. I love her writing and how she creates some great stories centered around myths and fairy tales. The Goose Girl fairy tale itself has been one of my favorites and it was so exciting to hear that someone - Hale - had ventured into retelling it. I had already read The Goose Girl, but I wanted to reread it since it had been a long time. And it was still very, very good:

"Ani pulled loose her headscarf and let it fall to the floor. 'I will not hide anymore,' she said to her reflection. Two feet, one in the mirror and one in the world, kicked the scarf aside. Her hair, braided up, had loosened, and its weight pulled it out of its plait and off her head. She picked up one of Selia's - one of her - brushes, silver plated, the face of a horse a rigid knob on its handle, and broke her snarls loose. The sun was dipping low in the west and sent a lustrous orange glow from the horizon to her hair. She moved, and it flashed gold in the light. She held up the dress against her now, the ray of the setting sun brightening her eyes, painting her face a yellow rose, regal like her mother (308)."

Song I Can't Stop Repeating

"Bells" by Laura Jansen.

I've been in the mood lately for songs that have an added atmosphere to them, along with soft melodies and and lovely lyrics. Strange, it seems to be a trend with me, haha. In this particular song, I feel very breathy when I listen to it. I imagine a room full of bells - silver, gold, brass - hanging from cords while sunlight rides in like a wave. Maybe it's a symbol for a heart full of soft joy:

I can feel the sky cracking in my heart
It's falling to the pavement
Don't know where to start
So, let's go to the tower
one more time
and Climb high, love, climb high

Oh bells
Nothing here but bells ringing in my heart
in my heart...
in my heart...
in my heart
la la la la

A Writer Thing

I've been dancing the fine line between short story writing and novel writing this summer, and it seems to be bleeding into fall. A proper thing for a budding writer to do is send out short stories to literary magazines in the hopes that they will get accepted and published. I remember the pure joy (and some disbelief) when I received my first acceptance from Pure Francis. It was fantastic. I can't put it to words. But most of the time rejections will fly their way to your inbox on swift wings - it's just the way of things.

Lately though, I've been immersed in creating longer stories. I've been jotting down ideas for novel-length stories way too often, haha. So, as a important side project, I'm going to dig into my folder of old or unfinished short stories and try to shine them up. I like looking around that folder and finding some strange stories - and remembering how I planned to end them. It's probably a good project to embark on. I should really get excited about it *heroic face*

Video I Watched Too Many Times

So, I've been on a huge silent movie kick. Huge. It all started when my mother bought a classic horror movie collection; all of the movies were in black and white and some were even silent. My favorite movies turned out to the be silent ones (Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). Like a hungry vampire... or somnambulist, I searched the interwebs for other silent films that would be excellent finds - and I started, of course, with looking for fairy tales.

I found a 1914 silent film called Cinderella, and for a while, the whole movie was on youtube. Sadly, when I did have time to watch it, it was taken down. So there's only a few clips left. I can't even it buy it online. So frustrating. I did discover that the actress is called Mary Pickford - and she's totally amazing! I just finished watching Poor Little Rich Girl starring Mary and it was fantastic. By watching her in other films, I think I feel less deprived from my Cinderella story, haha.

Does anyone have any silent film recommendations for me? I'd like to watch some romantic ones, actually. Still haven't stumbled upon one of those yet.

Shout Out!

It's a bit too repetitive to say that I'm been drowning in work and, thusly, have not been able to keep up with blogging and responding to my readers as quickly as I'd like. So I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge one of my awesome readers, elfarmy17, who suggested I check out a song someone made, the lyrics taken from a poem that appears in a book called Welcome to Bordertown (which sounds awesome, indeed! I recognize Bordertown by Charles De Lint's contribution to it - he's so cool. It's been added to my book list, haha).

The poem-turned-song is called "Stairs in Her Hair" - have a listen! It's very folksy, taking you back to a time with dangerous goblin markets and other such tricky fey.

Thank you very much for the recommendation, elfarmy17!

Toof and Tooth

School has officially started. The park lots are bursting like bloated stomachs. Students crawl or outright run to reach their classes in time. The weather is sweaty with torrents of rain in the afternoon. I'm buried deep in lesson plans, new assignments, and my own writing goals. I can barely breathe through the cracks in the pile. But there's something nice about being back too. I love unlocking my office door and shutting out the hallway noise. Sitting at my pumpkin-colored cubicle, I glance at the photos and illustrations tacked on the walls. I remember what had inspired me through my first year of grad school.

With the return of clustered classrooms and red pens comes, of course, the annual doctor appointments. I had ambled through my visit with the dentist and came out with the unsettling knowledge that I had another cavity. And worse - the cavity was on my wisdom tooth. Irony. Irony. Irony. I couldn't help but laugh.

I mean... who gets a cavity there?

I found out quickly that I wasn't alone in my ignorance. I told my friends, complained to my family. And they all said something along the lines of: "Your wisdom tooth? Don't those things just get yanked out?"

Hmm... don't they? I've been lucky enough not to have to get my wisdom teeth pulled. I think it's lucky, though I've heard that the longer you wait to get them pulled, the more painful it is when they do leave your mouth. I kind of wish that parting with one's intelligent teeth would be a more peaceful procedure. I imagine the four teeth wiggling out of my gums, as painless as climbing out of bed when you're wide awake. They'd pack their bags, wave goodbye as they jumped off my lower lip, and set off for a journey of continued enlightenment. But no, it's not like that, is it?

So yesterday I stepped into the very chilly dentist office, read some gossip magazines, and tried not to shiver when I left the left side of my mouth go numb. I got my shot (the dentist was pleasantly surprised when I didn't whine) and watched the metal instruments as they got passed along above my nose. The drilling, the buzzing, the red light - it didn't frighten me. I was riding a wave of relief, thankful that, for once, I couldn't feel a thing.

A little shaky and smiling awkwardly, I left the dentist and headed home to wait for the numbness to dissipate. I was worried that a sudden and intense pain would emerge, so to keep my cool, I found a wonderfully ironic blog to look at: My Milk Toof. I've been a huge fan of this lovely blog for quite some time. Inhae Lee, the talented artist who runs this blog, creates relaxing, whimsical stories and scenes with her two milk teef, ickle and Lardee.

Aren't they adorable? When I read Lee's new posts, I tend to remember how nice it is to actually love your teeth. And pretend they like to watch pancake syrup drip. If there's one thing you have to do after reading this post, it's to check out this blog and coo over it's awesomeness, haha. The numbness lifted with only a minor headache and no tooth pain. Maybe my wisdom tooth used it's x-ray vision to read the blog too. It settled down and went back to sleep.

ABC Gum

Do you remember navigating the realms of your earliest school years? You wore a little red backpack that you dangled on one shoulder - just to look cool - and maybe the highlight of your day was trading of your baggy of carrots for a cup of vanilla pudding.

And, more than likely, the underbelly of your desk had been covered with hard, crusty gum.

I had been late on the chewing gum craze. My parents had made sure that I did not end up addicted to the stuff; they also, rightfully so, watched over my teeth at a time where I didn't care what was causing my future cavities. Sometimes I watched with aching longing as my friends gnawed on gum. Other times, I was glad I didn't develop the bad habit of sneaking gum and chewing nosily during Algebra: you couldn't hide behind equations and the hum of the overhead projector.

I used to walk the outdoor halls of high school, stepping on gum spots without thinking much of them. They turned grey, much like we do when we're old and weather-beaten.

I never curled my hands on the corners of my desk, no matter how badly I wanted to find a more comfortable position for my hands. One must always avoid touching gum under the desk. Those, unlike the ones outside, might still be mushy.

ABC Gum stands for Already Been Chewed.

Kind of gross, right? But it has a name. And I think that's fascinating in and of itself. As a writer, I'm always searching for specific words; you lose power when you grab the power bar instead of the hardy apple. Vagueness is the enemy of writers; I like to image it as a faceless figure with a cloak of fog.

Anyway, my nostalgic memories wouldn't be complete without referencing how I learned about the ABC gum term. It wasn't from talking with friends or even something spilled from a teacher's lips. The term came into my life via the, oftentimes, vulgar cartoon show called Cow and Chicken.

Note: Although I tend to enjoy such lovely, delicate things like tea, lace, and soft teddy bears, I also have a crazy sense of humor. And was lovingly raised on cartoons - to which I owe the strange inner workings of my mind. So hopefully me referencing this show doesn't come as too much of a surprise, haha.

So yes, after watching this exact episode, I finally found out what ABC gum was. A long-winded education, isn't it? But the credit card lesson in the episode was pretty informative too :)

At certain times this coming semester, I'm sure I'll feel like the gum under the desk. But remembering the humor in it helps to soften and flop off the desk - and continue on into the wonderment that is winter vacation.

Tidbits: August Edition

Picture / Photo Find

Something I Did

School is starting soon. I have two weeks left, but that doesn't mean they will be full of freedom. Orientation will block out a few days of each of those weeks; I'll meet new instructors and learn about changes and perhaps see my name somewhere in the new textbook. Doesn't it seem weird for school to start in August? Does anyone out there start later? (And I guess I'm talking about high school and college).

I shouldn't complain though. The weather doesn't change in Florida between the two months. September is just as hot as August. The new school year is close enough for me to close my treasure drawer and put away summer toys. Time to get back to work.

This summer has been exciting, and sometimes boring, and I am looking forward to getting back in the office again. There's a lot of pressure involved in summer vacation. You're required to have fun, goof off, and be unproductive. If you're not any of these things, you get pitying looks that are kind of funny to see. The secret truth of summer vacation is that it's a beautiful illusion; we're all working on something, whether it's paying the bills or taking another step towards our dreams. Although my pile of unplayed video games is getting dusty, I'm still proud of how I spent my time.

Off to school - to the papers, the freezing classrooms, and mandatory fire drills!

A Quote from a Book I Love

So it seems that one of my unconscious goals in life is to collect all of Francesca Lia Block's books. She is, by far, one of my favorite writers. The local library has been so amazing; they carry a lot of her books already, so I've been reading many of her books that I hadn't been able to get a hold of before. However, there are still a lot of them I have yet to read. So I ordered a few of those and happily awaited their arrival in my mailbox.

One of them is the tiny poetry book called Fairy Tales in Electri-City. My first instinct, as a fan of prose, is to latch onto her novels and devour their vibrant imagery and myth. So sometimes it feels like a treat to read nothing but her poetry, and this collection is no exception. Here's a small bit of one of my favorite poems named after the collection title:

once upon a time a man came west to a city

with a lake that glittered silver at sunset

from the scales of the mermaids under the surface

and a park named echo

where the nymphs in the trees

whispered back your words

there was a flock of angels who walked on the pier

beneath the ferris wheel

and a tinkling carousel

ghosts rode in the night

the man fathered a child and called her electra

and when she grew up she found

not only mermaids nymphs and angels

but witches and warlocks too

who would eat your heart like a christmas ham

if you let them

Song I Can't Stop Repeating

"Elf Song" by Priscilla Ahn.

I'm new to Priscilla Ahn, having somehow missed a lot of her music when her first album came out. However, I think I've fallen in love with a lot of her newer songs, including every single on of them on her When You Grow Up album. This song in particular is awfully lovely because it's a story that many people, I believe, can relate to.

Once,

When the moon was full

She sat on her stool

And said hello old friend

Could you grant me a wish

And take me away to some place that's different?

So the moon

Sang a tune

And it went like this...

A Writer Thing

86, 643. Oh. my. gosh. This is my word count on Birdcage Girl right now. It's so surreal. You know, I started writing and posting the chapters on Figment.com only a few months ago. It's strange to think that December will come again - the birthday of my longest novel manuscript to date! I'm kind of stunned by it all, but insanely proud. Now that I'm close to the end, I can't help but marvel at how it feels. Sometimes I feel happy, but, for the most part, my head hurts.

My brain is sucking up all the energy I have in order to make this story complete. I'm almost haunted by it, thinking of nothing else in my idle time during the day. The ending, the ending, the ending. It'll happen soon. And if my heart is racing just thinking about writing it, then I hope that my readers feel the same way when they read it. August is a special month this year because, by the end of it, I plan to hold a finished manuscript in my hands. Warm, like a baby (so I'll have to stand at the printer and scoop it up right away, haha). I'm ready for the inevitable paper cuts. But for now, I have to keep trucking along until the words stop and I find myself at the end of this particular, peculiar, journey.

Video I Watched Too Many Times

Zune commercials! If not anything else, I really feel as if they have a wide array of fantastic commercials (I'll probably end up posting more of them at some point, haha).

Food I'm Craving

Tuna melts *_*

This time, I have nothing insightful to say about it. Only... I had lived on a steady diet of tuna melts when I spent my month in England. There were always fairly-priced and tasted so melty on a cold day outside. I remember when a friend and I sat on a bench with our chins buried in our coats. I had rubbed my hands all over the paper wrapping to gather the warmth.

Photos from We Heart It

Slipper Talk

I made you many and many a song,

Yet never one told all you are --

It was as though a net of words

Were flung to catch a star;

It was as though I curved my hand

And dipped sea-water eagerly,

Only to find it lost the blue

Dark splendor of the sea.

- Sara Teasdale, "The Net"

I always view grocery shopping as an adventure. I love finding a new flavor of potato chips, admiring stunning packaging designs, and rolling my cart as if I were a tulle-trimmed skater along the tile floors. This past weekend had been particularity exciting; I found a pair of Hello Kitty shoes. Now, I like Hello Kitty, but other characters are more appealing to me (I'm not much of a pink person, besides). These shoes were black flats, with Hello Kitty's face sewed on as a patch over the toes.

I stopped the cart, gawked at them, and then check the sizes... children's shoes! Don't worry, dear readers. I was no deterred! The beauty of being short is that I can, on occasion, put my small feet to good use and do impossible things. I found the biggest size - four - and managed to slip them on with no problem. As I looked down at my feet, I was reminded of the Cinderella fairy tale. Her stepsisters tried to fit into her glass slipper but their feet were too big. I believe, in some variants, they even cut off parts of their feet to try to fit them into the slipper. I couldn't imagine cutting off my toes for these Hello Kitty shoes. But still, remembering that fairy tale put me in a bittersweet mood for the rest of the day.

Besides the small feet, I never used to associate myself with Cinderella. I didn't have stepsisters, or a stepmother, and probably did less chores than most children my age. One set of grandparents left the world early, so the remaining set, well, provided me with a grandmother who was better at finding coupons than changing a pumpkin into a coach. I wouldn't expect a stranger to crawl in through the window and change me into a girl ready for the ball. And - this is embarrassing - I never made friends with talking birds or mice.

But now that I'm older, I've found that I can understand Cinderella a little better. And acknowledge that, yes, I've done something that she had done.

Would you believe me if I said I left my glass slipper for the prince?

"She then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The Prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the Prince took up most carefully." - Cinderella

I've always felt that she left the slipper on purpose. Unless you're wearing flip flops, it's hard to just lost a shoe (without tumbling down the stairs and breaking a nose). She must have realized that, no matter how well of a time she had with the prince, she could never have hope of meeting him again without leaving a piece of her behind. You could say, in effect, that the glass slipper was a piece of her heart.

If you do believe me, then I'll tell you this: I made my slippers. Glass is too fragile, too transparent. Fur is too thick and soft. So when I reached for the materials that, I thought, would surely catch the prince's eye, I turned to paper and ink. I wrote until ink stained my fingers, until the text on the page transformed into a story wild with whale-song, lonely planets, and singing stars. The images shivered in the air like holograms, delicate as smoke, as I fashioned the tiny story-shoes around my feet. As Sara Teasdale writes, I had cast my net as best I could.

Rain drenched the walkways leading to the palace. I knew that if I wore the slippers, they would melt away like abandoned ice cream. So I kept them safe and warm inside my bag and trudged to the castle with sneakers. Water ran down my cheeks, clung to my hair, and when I stepped inside, no one paused to look at me. Unlike Cinderella, I had no gossip to precede me.

"There was immediately a profound silence. They left off dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attentive was everyone to contemplate the singular beauties of the unknown new-comer." - Cinderella

I didn't dance with the prince either. After all, he was the one making the music. Bodies crowded the ballroom, bringing heat to the chilly, rainy evening. The music flowed into my veins and it felt, sometimes, like his voice whispered into my ears. When the ball ended, I stepped outside into the humid air; the rain passed away, leaving a trail of blurred lights and mirror-puddles. And I made sure, while holding my breath, to leave my slipper outside the castle gates. I kept the other one in my bag. A memento. Something to compare the other by if I woke up one morning the rhythm of a knock on my door.

I slept peacefully that night, awakening with the rags still clinging to my skin. The magical night seemed to be nothing but a dream, replaced my peasant thoughts like finishing homework, making breakfast, and finding quarters for my laundry.

The most important number in fairy tales is three. I've left paper-and-ink slippers twice. Perhaps the third time will be the charm.

First Photo from We Heart It, Last from SurLaLune.