resolution check in

I have not been doing very well with my resolutions. This is why I never make them - instead of ending up better off, I fail and get angry at myself. But I think that maybe it's time for me to get angry at myself. If the alternative is remaining forever in the place I'm at right now... then some anger isn't much of a deterrent.

Money

Although I haven't yet filled out the paperwork to open an additional savings account, I have been watching my spending pretty well. I started to work out a monthly budget spreadsheet, but I got frustrated with Excel and quit. Guess I should take that whole bit about being "proficient in Microsoft Office technology" off my resume.

I also had a very enlightening conversation with my brother, Smarty Pants Future Huge Salary Accountant. He informed me that I'd be much better off opening a CD, which apparently will give me a much higher interest rate. I know nothing about this kind of stuff... clearly, since I'm 25 and just recently opened my first savings account. But after listening to his advice and feeling incredibly stupid in the eyes of my little brother, I decided that a savings account is the way for me to go right now. I'm just looking for an "emergency fund" - not necessarily another way to make money.

Fingernails

This is probably the area at which I'm failing the most miserably. Work has been more stressful than usual lately (which also explains my lack of posts for more than a week - sorry 'bout that), and my poor fingers are the bearers of my weary load. Tonight I'm pulling out all the stops, though. I'm gonna shellack 'em up with this new O.P.I. strengthener stuff I found... apparently it'll make my nails the envy of all the nails in the world. So sayeth the bottle, anyway.

[aside: in looking up how to spell "shellack," Google was nice enough to point me here. Check out the example for number 5.]

I promise that my hands aren't always so grotesque looking. It's really hard to take a picture of your right hand when you're right handed.

Photos

Miserable. All I've done in the way of organizing my photos is rearrange the frames sitting on top of my entertainment console. The rest of my photos are still sitting in My Documents on my laptop, just waiting for a motherboard crash.

Food

I'm actually doing really well with this one. I've been making dinner every night (except for last... particularly awful day entitles me to one Arby's Beef-n-Cheddar - SHUT UP YES IT DOES) and having the leftovers for lunch the next day. And you know what I found out? I'm a damn good cook!

I made chicken with vegetables and wild rice in a super-awesome herb sauce, made sans recipe... which used to scare the beejeesus out of me. But I had to use a bunch of vegetables before they went bad, and I had some chicken in the freezer, which resulted in me falling madly in love with my slow-cooker. Who knew you could throw some raw things in a pot before work and come home 9 hours later to the wonderful aroma of what would turn out to be a most delicious meal?!

Here's lemon rice soup, also sans recipe... because apparently there's egg in lemon rice soup. I hate eggs. The only way I'll eat them is if they're smothered in cheesy-omeletty-goodness. So I just made up my own recipe minus eggs and other weird things like kale, which I've heard is traditionally used in lemon rice soup. I used a Lipton Rice packet, though, because I didn't have any white rice and it was too cold to go out. It was delicious - nom nom nom.



Writing

Miserable. Aside from this blog - which I've neglected for over a week, although I think I should still get points for keeping up with the sites on my blogroll, thank-you-very-much - I've not written a single thing that could even be construed as creative. Press releases, profiles, newsletters, and magazine article rewrites (because apparently I suck at my job, too) be damned - I'm still determined to write something creative and worthwhile before I die.

[aside: speaking of... I just heard that Heath Ledger died. I thought he was a great actor - First Knight was awesome, and Brokeback Mountain is one of my favorite movies of all time. And I was really looking forward to seeing him in the new Batman. Oh - and he was gorgeous. Another Hollywood-type lost to an overdose. Sigh.]

Reading

I pretty much suck at this, too... but not for lack of trying. That's the theme of this entire blog post. I'm still trying to make my way through Great Expectations for The Challenge, but it's not really going according to plan. The last couple weeks of work have seen a strange influx of large proofreading projects, making my eyes refuse to focus by the time I get home. It's all I can do to follow SoapNet's 90210 reruns, let alone muster up the courage to read a text that drives me insane. Did I mention that? This book still makes me crazy, just like it did in 9th grade. On the plus side, though, I'm about halfway through... which is tons further than I made it in high school. I have less than 10 days to finish before next month's book. I'm trying to believe... but I don't think I want to know the truth.

And there you have it, friends. My awful progress thus far. And I was so pumped up about 2008. So far, the year has given me nothing but an ulcer, some gray hair, and several very large migraines. Chin up, I guess, huh?

my year of reading dangerously

I saw this reading challenge on Andi's blog, and I immediately fell in love with it. What a fantastic idea, to challenge yourself to read the things that you normally wouldn't give a second glance.

january - great expectations, by charles dickens
february - the bluest eye, by toni morrison
march - cat's eye, by margaret atwood
april - transformations, by anne sexton
may - other voices, other rooms, by truman capote
june - lolita, by vladimir nabokov
july - the chocolate war, by robert cormier
august - maus i and ii, by art spiegelman
september - the secret lives of people in love, by simon van booy
october - the human stain, by philip roth
november - classic short stories, tba
december - the grapes of wrath, by john steinbeck

A couple of the books on this list - such as The Bluest Eye, The Chocolate War, and The Grapes of Wrath - I've already read, but I think I'll reread them, since part of the fun in reading a book is discussing it with others, and I haven't had that opportunity in what feels like forever. Other books - like Lolita - have been on my reading wish list for ages, and now I have a reason to attack. And still, some - I'm talking to you, Great Expectations - terrify me... we had to read GE in AP English in high school, and it was the only book I couldn't finish. I hated it. I'm glad this book is in the first month, though... better to get it out of the way early. I'll probably end up loving it (I hope, I hope!), but it scares the bejeezus out of me just the same.

It's a little strange to have an entire year of reading plotted out when the ball has barely dropped in Times Square... but it's sort of refreshing, too. Lately, I've been averaging finishing about one book a month, and that's just sad. There was a time not too long ago in which I would routinely finish a book every week. I even had a pattern - I'd start a book on Monday, finish on Friday, use the weekend for reading newspapers and magazines, and then start a new one on Monday.

Nerdy? Yes. Fulfilling? Absolutely.

Realistically, with my work schedule as it's been lately, I probably can't go back to that standard. But I can try. Of course, fulfilling this challenge requires me to break my personal Book Buying Ban self-instituted in November... but what the hell. Those B&N gift cards I got for Christmas aren't going to last forever!

DONE... FOREVER.

I'm still crying, so I can't put much on here right now... but I wanted to say one thing - the one thought that's been resounding through my head since the start of chapter one of The Deathly Hallows and the one thing that remains true since I last closed the book 10 minutes ago:

I want to have J.K. Rowling's baby.

Still hopeful, through it all

Since I saw the new Harry Potter movie last Wednesday, I've been wanting to write about it. But how does one begin a story detailing the biggest disappointment of her life? So I decided to wait, hoping that a short time would clear my mind.

It did not.

I hated that movie. Really - from deep inside, I despised it. I had tried so hard to go into the experience virginal, without having read a single review or listened to a single friend's account. Then, a mere three hours before showtime, I broke. I listened to a friend's negative opinion and did a quick Google for reviews. Instantly, my shoulders sank with the first headline: "New 'Harry Potter' Loses the Old Magic."

When I think about it now, I went into the situation expecting more than was humanly possible to deliver. Nothing that any director could have created would have lived up to my standards for this movie. I know it sounds silly, but the book The Order of the Phoenix is very special to me. Not only is it my absolute favorite book in the series, but it affects me in a way that very few books can - it just gets to me. I'm not even being dramatic, here... this book is very important to me. Needless to say, I was anticipating the movie to be just as incredible.

Within the first half hour, I was ready to leave the theater. Then I reminded myself that there's no way the movie could include everything from the book - but so far the basics were the same. A little more than halfway through, though, something in the movie was so drastically different than the book that I felt anger rise from my throat. I watched the rest of the film with a scowl on my face.

Last Saturday, I went to see it again. After my initial anger faded into disappointment, I realized that I had gone into that theater expecting to see the movie that played out in my mind each time I read Phoenix... which is way more times than I'm willing to admit to anyone. I stealed myself for any comparison to the book - I forced myself to think of the movie as an independent being with characters that just happen to have the same names. By the end, I wasn't nearly as angry as I was days before, but I still didn't enjoy it as much as I could have.

There was no excitement, no mystery - nothing like the previous movies, especially "The Goblet of Fire." It seemed like the other characters were only present to give Harry a break from hyperventilating all the time - they didn't work together as a team like they always have. Just writing about it is making me depressed all over again.

It's strange (and a little bit pathetic) how a set of juvenile books and adapted films can be such a big part of my life. Bear with me.

It was like when you were a kid, and you waited all year for Christmas to come because you just knew that your parents had picked up your millions of hints you'd been dropping all year about the really expensive bike you needed. But then when you come out of your bedroom on Christmas morning, you look around at all the packages and notice that not a single one is large enough to hold the extravagant gift you swore you were getting. Still, you rush in to your pile, hopeful through it all, and nothing is like you thought it would be - your parents had bought you rollerskates. Sure, they're practical and they'll get you around, same as a bike would, but they leave so much left to be desired. You smile grudgingly and thank them for the gift, silently stewing that they couldn't deliver your dreams. It was like they hadn't listened, and they couldn't give you what had been so important to you for so long. You set the roller skates aside and don't so much as glance in their direction for days. Finally you pick them up and hold them, realizing that you shouldn't hate them because of what they're not, but appreciate them for what they are. You should be happy that you were given a gift at all, even if it didn't live up to your standards.

Boohoo.

Anyway, I picked up my reserved copy of The Deathly Hallows yesterday morning, but was too busy to start it until now. I plan on spending my entire day on the couch, reading as quickly as I can and praying that none of my favorite characters die. It's weird to think that in just a few minutes, nothing will ever be the same - there'll be no more anxiety waiting for the next book to come out, no more racing through a text and chiding myself for not making it last, no more predictions that Harry couldn't possibly be the one to die.

See you when it's over......................

Listen, Let Me Tell You Something

"A woman is an important somebody and sometimes you win the triple crown: good food, good sex, and good talk. Most men settle for any one, happy as a clam if they get two. But listen, let me tell you something. A good man is a good thing, but there is nothing in the world better than a good good woman. She can be your mother, your wife, your girlfriend, your sister, or somebody you work next to. Don't matter. You find one, stay there. You see a scary one, make tracks."

-- Toni Morrison, Love

The Hobbit, The Bet, and The Chosen One

take the WHAT BAD BOOK ARE YOU test.


and go to mewing.net. not as good as reading a good book, but way better than a bad one.


That's kind of funny, considering I really liked The Hobbit. Although I suppose there are some people around here who think I am SO BORING, SO HUMORLESS, and SO ANNOYING. Those people can bite me :)

As long as we're on the subject of books, I need to let all of you know that I finally finished the new Harry Potter. I'll also tell the story of The Bet because I think it's funny.
I bought the new HP book the day it came out - I saw Frema and Luke at the bookstore that night, buying the same, of course. Phil bought it a few days later, even though he was still finishing up the fifth book.

I thought it would be fun to challenge him to a race.... mostly because I have the advantage of being a really fast reader and I knew I would completely kick his ass. I told Phil I'd wait to start the book until he finished the fifth, and then we could start the sixth together. (If I knew then what I know now, this is the point in The Bet where I would have started to cheat.)

A few days later, Phil informed me that he finished the fifth book and was ready for the next one. So he started. But I didn't. I was afraid to do any leisure reading because of grad school, and I was *really* busy with things at work... so I just didn't start it. And I never did. And before I knew it, Phil called to tell me that he had finished. Phil had beaten me.... me, the kid who brought a book to the swingset during recess..... me, the girl who baked cookies for the school librarian because she allowed me to check out an extra book every week..... me, the woman who will cancel weekend plans at the bar in favor of a good book. I had been defeated.

Months later, the end of DePaul's grad quarter, and a calm surfacing over most of my duties at work, I was finally able to spend some time with my love. Four days later, and it was over. Just like that. I *always* do that - I read and read and read, and then it's over and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm sad because it will be years before the last book comes out and, frankly, I'm not sure I can wait that long. I should have rationed it.

But WOW - what a book! Because all of you were so kind not to ruin it for me (special thanks to Frema, Luke, and Phil - even though he tried ruining it several times!), I'll show the same kindness for others and not reveal the TOTALLY INSANE ending to this book. I will say that I didn't think it was as sad or as surprising as book five, although it was fantastic in its own way. Book five is my favorite, though, so I'm probably a little biased.

Either way, Phil - you totally won this round, as much as it pains me to say it. Own'd.

Love is a ghost train, rumbling through the darkness.

I’m reading a book called “Love” by Toni Morrison. I love Toni Morrison – which is weird, I think, because I’m not at all a feminist, not a leader of the Women’s Movement, which Morrison so clearly is.

I do love her books, though. Every line is like poetry. She makes me appreciate and even love something that I don’t fully believe in.

With this one, though, I wasn’t sure what to think – I’m still not, actually. I expected a great love story… I’m not really sure why; that’s not Morrison’s style. She’s all about the undertones and hinting at the beauty of love in an otherwise ugly world… finding love in people and things that no one has ever found love in before.

Reading the pages of this book, I’ve been a little frustrated. “Where’s the love?” I was wondering. I found myself considering myself lucky: “I have many kinds of love, love that can be seen clear as day by anyone who cares to look.”

I’ve always believed that. I am loved – no matter how much I tend to overlook the fact or desperately will myself to believe that it’s not true. I am loved by many people, and in many different ways.

Tonight, driving home through the deserted streets of Rensselaer, I thought otherwise. Tonight I’m having a really hard time recalling all the ways that I am loved. A best friend whose love was presumed to be unconditional has failed. Roommates proved to be friends only when it was necessary. High school friends have forgotten my name and my face. People who were just becoming friends have left for one reason or another. A very close friend has seen it as a burden to be seen with me.

At a time when I should be reveling in the array of love I feel for people and they feel for me, I am instead left wondering if any of it was ever there to begin with.

Leaving the Wonder Spot

I have that empty feeling that only comes with the last page turn of a particularly wonderful book.

My most favorite author... the author whose words grace scraps of paper in my office, away messages on my instant messenger, titles of posts to my meager blog... the author who, for years, I've dreamed about becoming, has just released her second book. And I've just fallen in love with her all over again.

Melissa Bank. No one will ever know me like she does.

I hesitate to say that her second book, "The Wonder Spot," was better than her first, "The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing"... but only in the way that a true romantic would hesitate to say that a second, third, and fourth kiss was better or truer than the first.

I want to write about the story, about the main character, about Bank's absolutely unique and perfect writing style... but it's been only twenty minutes since I closed the book and set it on the table.... I'm still looking longingly at it as I type, hoping for more. It seems too soon to dissect it and begin listing its qualities in "the wide open"... I'd rather keep it to myself, keep it intimate, for a while more.

(If you're really interested in "my" author, read this review/interview... it says all the things I wanted to.)

I'm at the point where I don't want to and can't think about anything other than Sophie Applebaum. This is both the hardest and the best part of a good book... coming to the end of it and not being able to let go of the characters... living in its pages.

I had the new Harry Potter - whose release I have been craving forever - sitting right next to "The Wonder Spot" on the table, waiting patiently for its turn to be loved... but I moved it to the kitchen counter. My second love affair with Bank is something that deserves to be cherished and remembered and loved for every last detail...

and so I've decided to wait to begin Harry. I know... it's a big step for a Potter-head like me... but Bank deserves it. For the next week or so, I'm going to hang out with my memories of Sophie.

It might be a while before I see her again... and the next Harry Potter movie will be out in no time.