Aunt Rose.

My Aunt Rose died on Saturday night.

I wanted to write something out, to acknowledge this and say something about her, but after several attempts I've realized that it's not going to happen. I'm not okay about it. On one hand, she was nearly 96 years old (I mean 94 of course. She didn't want anyone to know how old she was, and even her obituary didn't know the truth. Keep it amongst yourselves.) On the other hand I love her and I'm not ready and it sucks. On a third hand, she's with my Uncle Joe and her children now. On a fourth hand ... I miss them, too. At some moments more than ever.


So for the past few days I've been hanging around with family members that, for one reason or another, I don't see very often. (For the sake of clarity I should note, unless it's my Aunt Rita, who is my father's sister, any time I mention an "Aunt" or an "Uncle", you should assume that it's one of my grandparents' siblings, and that they've been dead at least 15 years.) First, there's Aunt Rose's grandson and his children, who are around my age. My cousins and I have always had this weird sense of rivalry and dislike going on with them, and I really don't even know why. I know that it was handed down from our parents. I think it may be because my cousin Theresa was always a miserable pill all the time. But we liked Theresa, so, really, I don't get it. Truly, they've probably all turned out to be great people, and better people than my cousins at any rate. But I wouldn't even know how to start a conversation with them. The fact that we were crying over the same woman who had so touched our lives while we were standing on opposite sides of the room was interesting, to say the least. Oh, and the one that I had been thinking of as "the baby"? He's, like, sixteen now. The fuck.

Her granddaughter Roseanne was also there, and she's awesome. I used to play with her daughter Kelli when we were very small, but I couldn't talk to her. Literally. She's deaf.

Roseanne's siblings were not in attendance, and my cousin Suzanne was snubbed from the list of surviving family, so that's all you really need to know about that.

Then there were the relatives that I try to avoid because they all became Born Again Christians. I don't mean that I dislike them, but I try to avoid them. See, they're good people, and friendly to a fault, and because of their religious ethics and family values, they'll be first in line to help you if you, say, need to have your house repaired or need help getting out of bankruptcy. But they also sometimes send out Christmas cards with poems about the Judgment Day and how the unbelievers will burn in a lake of fire. Their sense of humor is also seriously lacking. How am I, to whom blasphemy is like a second native language, supposed to handle that? Also, they home-schooled all their children, reinforcing all the worst home-schooling stereotypes in the process. Thanks, guys. Except, I did get to see my cousin Nicole again, and she always seemed pretty sane. She went to school for massage therapy. I wouldn't mind seeing her again. I bet she's awesome.

Then there are my Aunt Rita's children, my lonely two first cousins. ... I don't even want to discuss them, really.

As I sort of expected, I had many relatives gushing that I look just like my grandmother (or, as most of them unsettlingly refer to her, "Aunt Gracie"), and recalling how beautiful she was. She was beautiful, but I don't look like her, and I don't know why they all think I do. I mean, I'm sure I resemble her a little; she is my grandmother. I do look a lot like my father. Of course, I also look a lot like my mother. It depends on which one I'm standing next to. I'd say I'm a fairly even mix, and I'd say my father is an even mix of his parents. So, by that account, I look about one-fourth like my grandmother ... and three-fourths not like her. Really, though, my grandmother had small, round eyes. My eyes are large and almond-shaped. My grandmother had a round nose. My nose comes to a point. My grandmother had an oval face. I have a square face. My grandmother had jet-black curly hair. My hair is chestnut-brown and wavy. Although it has been very humid lately, so it's been curlier. Anyway. I think they're just seeing what they want to see.

I also got to meet my Aunt Madeleine's two children, whom I don't think I've ever met before. Her daughter looks just the way I remember Aunt Madeleine looking. And she also looked a lot like Jenny. It was odd. She hadn't seen my father in some 20 years, so she made a great fresh audience for all the tragic stories of all his maladies. Which he regaled her with, incidentally, while they were both kneeling at the casket. Oh yes he did. My father, ladies and gentlemen.

My Aunt Rose had a brother named Nate that she was just crazy about. I never met him, as he died before I was born, but she talked about him all the time. His full name was Natale D'Amore, which in Italian means "Christmas of Love." Isn't that the best name you've ever heard? His four daughters were there. I'm sure I've never met them before, but they were very familiar to me because they all looked just like Stephanie. It was crazy. They all had similar eyes and noses, and they all had her hair and they all wore glasses. So for a few minutes I pretended that Stephanie was one of my cousins and it made me very happy.

There was one thing that my cousin Michael said to me (one thing that didn't make me want to hit him, anyway) that made me ponder. With Aunt Rose gone, with all the people that we've lost gone, our connection to those other people in that room has pretty much disappeared. Aunt Rose was, as my sister called her, "the last of the dinosaurs." ... I believe she meant it as a compliment. She was the last of all the old relatives, the ones the different branches had in common, the ones that made holiday dinners, the ones that connected everybody. I wondered, more than once, if I would ever see some of these people after this.

We had some adventures getting into the line for the cemetery. Of that cemetery: "Who's there?" I asked my mother. "Everyone," she replied. I saw my Aunt Madeleine and Uncle Neil and Aunt Mary. I saw a few cousins and many familiar names. I looked a little bit for my grandparents, but I didn't really look. As we were driving through, my mother teared up suddenly. I'm sure that's where my sister is. I've never been to a cemetery except when laying someone to rest. I've never felt the urge to go back. Aunt Rose was laid next to her husband, my Uncle Joe. They were married for 60 years, and she'd been without him for 18. They ran short on flowers, so I didn't get to place one. Before I left, I kissed his name with my fingertips.

Radio Update.

So, I've been listening to the radio when I drive in my car. Which I do now at least three days a week. My life is so on the edge, I know.

I have become very enamored of WRXP, 101.9, the erstwhile smooth jazz station. Now The Rock Experience!

Today I heard Death Cab For Cutie on the radio for the first time ever. That's right! First time ever. Also, the White Stripes. And! They played a U2 song that I don't think I've heard before, and it made me not hate U2 for a little while.

(About that, I don't actually hate U2. But have you noticed how everyone is all about U2 all of a sudden? And about how they're apparently the greatest band in the history of the world forever in the whole world? It's driving me crazy. Because - no. You're overdoing the praise. Having "In The Name Of Love" be the only song you ever play does not help. See also: Van Halen.)

The DJs actually talk about the music and concerts that they went to and stuff like that. BUT. Importantly, they do it quickly, keep it to around a minute, and then get back to playing music. Except today one of them was talking about his divorce, and it was really awkward.

Also, someone in that studio is in love with the song "Time To Pretend" by MGMT. I hear it all the freaking time. (My history with that song: I got it free off a music website and decided I didn't really care for it. Then, later, A. sent it to me along with another of their songs. Because he didn't know! The second song made the first one sound a lot better. Ugh. But! Now that I keep hearing it, I don't mind it. It's everywhere, though! Moonlight used a lyric for an episode title. Speaking of which - [single cold tear for Moonlight].)

Results of election leaked early?

I know I don't usually talk about politics, but I wanted to share this. I get my Latest Primary Results news from AOL.com, because it's easiest because that's where my email lives. I haven't checked any other news sources, so I don't know if this is an isolated incident - but I doubt it.

Today, Nebraska and West Virginia are holding their primaries. Clinton and Obama are battling it out in West Virginia! But it seems, when I checked at 7:15 this morning (don't ask), Obama had already been declared the winner in Nebraska, with 0% of precincts reporting.

The polls in Nebraska, incidentally, close at 9PM, CT.

Look, it's not that I doubt that Obama will win Nebraska. If that's what the indications are, fine. However, call me old-fashioned if you must, isn't it customary to actually hold the election before you tell the people who won it?

And another thing.

Don't rhetorical questions get question marks anymore? Where was I when this was apparently decided? Have you noticed this disturbing trend, which is to say, the deficiency of question marks? Am I overreacting?

Here are some observations about insignificant and unentertaining minutiae.

So, yesterday I engaged in some foreign activities. I listened to the radio. While I was driving. On the Parkway. I can't even tell you about the time I passed someone utilizing the left lane. COULD YOU HANDLE IT?

The radio station I was listening to was 101.9, which you may remember me mentioning was a hated smooth jazz station. But wait! It has changed, and is now WRXP: The Rock Experience. See what they did there? It's actually pretty good. As I was driving in my car (!) listening to the radio (!) I heard a song on this station that I've totally never heard before. (!) I was intrigued because it lifted a lyric from a Fleetwood Mac song: "When I talk to God I knew he'd understand/He said stick by me and I'll be your guiding hand." (The new rhythm of the line caused me to realize that I'd been mondegreening that as "I'll be your God in hand" - which, come on, that's a lot better.) Then, as I was listening, it suddenly occurred to me, "Wait a minute! Is this The Clash??"

Well, sort of. Turns out the song was "Why Do Men Fight?" a new single by Carbon/Silicon, a band comprised of Mick Jones of The Clash, and Tony James of Generation X. It's not bad. I bought it off iTunes.

In tangentially related news, I'd like to show you the Best Shirt Ever.

Speaking of new and exciting things: I just went through a drive-thru for the first time ever. Well, as a driver. Naturally. I mean, this is America. I've been to a few drive-up ATMs, so I figured I was ready for this bold next step. I went to McDonald's to get a big-ass thing of their new sweet tea. Sweet tea is exactly my brand of heroin [/hates Twilight]. And, just as I'd planned, they asked me if I wanted anything else, other than a beverage, and I was totally like, "Nope!" Just the tea, thanks! I managed it well, even gave exact change, but I still don't like anything that involves me reaching out of my car for things. I don't think it'd be so bad if it weren't for my congenital shortness.

And now, here are some vignettes of domestic envy:
- My Swiss neighbors have a Dyson. Not the purple one, the yellow one, but, a Dyson nonetheless. I still don't have one, and I still want one.
- My next-door neighbor has been going to the gym, and I think she's definitely skinnier than I am now. Also, her husband looks just like the Chief.

Oh, and apropos of having to go get that picture from IMDb, I've always thought Prince Caspian was a douchebag. Always.

Guys, I haven't decided what I'll be having for lunch yet, but I'll totally let you know!

Every pop song on the radio.

I'm sure, if you're reading this, that you've heard me say on at least one occasion that I have very strange dreams. As a rule, I have strange dreams. If you've ever seen Felix the Cat: The Movie -- like that. I once had a dream where I was five and co-ruled a medieval feudal society, and then I killed Jesus with a handful of toothpicks. Like that.

Lately, I have been having dreams that are not strange at all. They involve people that I know, discussing matters between us and doing things that we might logically do. They are the sort of dreams that I hear other people talk about, "I had a dream where so and so told me such and such."

The thing is, though, these ostensibly normal dreams are making me feel very strange and out of sorts. They make me feel like I suppose someone who usually has these sort of dreams would feel if they were suddenly being stalked and hunted through a department store and then found a vortex into negative space where they found their dead cat breathing fire. (For example.) The lack of abnormality in my subconscious is effectively surreal. My dreams are usually very clearly not reality, and they're easy to extract myself from once I awake. Now I'm having actual trouble sorting out what's real and what isn't, and what happened and what didn't.

I'm very confused. When I wake up in the morning I'm not sure if I've actually spoken to the person that I've dreamt about. Any time I dream about real people, I worry that the dream will wind up being prophetic, which has happened on occasion. Or maybe it already happened, I'm not sure. On the other hand, this may be an opportunity to work out while asleep the things I can't when I'm awake. See, it's always the case that we haven't really spoken. It just takes me a while to remember.

Post like you meme it.

Pat came up with this. And because it is great, I am promulgating it. Do it!

Steps:
1) Go to this site and you can find out what song was #1 (according to Billboard Magazine) on the US Charts on any particular week in history.

2) Look up your birthday.

3) List the #1 songs that have occurred on your birthday throughout the years you've been alive.

4) Cringe at how bad music was, and how bad it is now!


Thing:
1983 - "Say, Say, Say" by Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson
1984 - "Out of Touch" by Daryl Hall and John Oates
1985 - "Broken Wings" by Mr. Mister
1986 - "The Next Time I Fall" by Peter Cetera and Amy Grant
1987 - "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" by Belinda Carlisle (Hooray! I love this song!)
1988 - "Look Away" by Chicago
1989 - "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel (And the number of times I heard this song around that time was ... a lot.)

1990 - "Because I Love You (The Postman Song)" by Stevie B (Umm. What?)
1991 - "Black Or White" by Michael Jackson (Yes.)
1992 - "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston
1993 - "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" by Meat Loaf
1994 - "On Bended Knee" Boyz II Men
1995 - "One Sweet Day" Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men
1996 - "Unbreak My Heart" by Toni Braxton (My birthday is like the showcase for the Ultimate 90s Playlist)
1997 - "Something About The Way You Look Tonight/Candle In The Wind 1997" by Elton John (Really? Was there a medley I was unaware of?)
1998 - "I'm Your Angel" by Celine Dion and R. Kelly (If this were a list of "Songs I Hate With A Fiery Passion," this song would be at the top. Jesus Christ I hate this song so much.)
1999 - "Smooth" by Santana featuring Rob Thomas

2000 - "Independent Women Part I" by Destiny's Child (I'm surprised it's not still "Smooth," actually.)
2001 - "Family Affair" by Mary J. Blige
2002 - "Lose Yourself" by Eminem (Is this the one that won the Oscar? [It won the Oscar, right?] I've still never actually heard it except in clips.)
2003 - "Stand Up" by Ludacris featuring Shawna (Who and what now?)
2004 - "My Boo" by Usher and Alicia Keys (Hehehehehe. I haven't heard this one either, but that just sounds embarrasing.)
2005 - "Run It!" by Chris Brown (... Nope.)
2006 - "I Wanna Love You" by Akon featuring Snoop Dogg (Really?)
2007 - "No One" by Alicia Keys (This one I've totally heard.)

It's pretty craptastical. However, I have to say that the weirdest part was how many fucking years there were. Seriously! They just keep going! Especially towards the end there. There just keep being more years.

I watch television sometimes. UPDATED FOR MORE MEHNESS!

Really, considering how little television I watch, I've still seen a lot of television.

This has been going around like that funky sinus infection you had back in February.

1. Bold the shows you've watched every episode of
2. Italic the shows you've seen at least one episode of
Per Christine:
3. Strike every show you don't ever wish to see
4. Color those shows you'd like to take a look at someday, when you get around to it.


50. Quantum Leap (I think, but I was rather small at the time and don't remember anything about it.)
49. Prison Break
48. Veronica Mars
47. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
46. Sex & The City

45. Farscape
44. Cracker
43. Star Trek
42. Only Fools and Horses
41. Band of Brothers

40. Life on Mars
39. Monty Python's Flying Circus
38. Curb Your Enthusiasm (I hate this show.)
37. Star Trek: The Next Generation
36. Father Ted (One and a half, maybe?)

35. Alias
34. Frasier
33. CSI: Las Vegas
32. Babylon 5
31. Deadwood

30. Dexter
29. ER
28. Fawlty Towers
27. Six Feet Under
26. Red Dwarf

25. Futurama
24. Twin Peaks
23. The Office UK
22. The Shield
21. Angel

20. Blackadder
19. Scrubs
18. Arrested Development
17. South Park
16. Doctor Who (new version)

15. Heroes
14. Firefly
13. Battlestar Galactica (new version)
12. Family Guy
11. Seinfeld

10. Spaced
09. The X-Files
08. The Wire
07. Friends (I'm the only girl in the world who doesn't have this in bold, aren't I?)
06. 24

05. Lost
04. The West Wing
03. The Sopranos
02. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
01. The Simpsons

Addendum.

To my previous post.

I feel that it is necessary to clarify my position on the band Death Cab For Cutie. I do not dislike Death Cab For Cutie. I figured the fact that they appear not once, but twice, on the list of songs I listen to most often would have made that evident. Apparently not, though, guys! I like them and I listen to them often!

However.

On the whole, Death Cab For Cutie is rather ... morose and maudlin. If you've listened to them, you know, so don't even say anything. (I was using "emo" as a shorthand reference for this. I appreciate Stephanie's point that labels tend to impede your listening enjoyment. This is true. I wasn't really trying, though, to debate the merits, or lack thereof, of emo.) I felt that their over-representation on the list acted as an intensifier to the idea that my listening habits of late have been morose and maudlin. This is what my dismay was all about! It was not a commentary on the quality of the music. I was actually equally as upset that the only Decemberists song on the list was "The Engine Driver" - for the same reasons. And you know how much I like the Decemberists! And that song is great, but still. Still. Of course, the Decemberists are usually a bit more upbeat, so my reaction in that case was more, "Oh, this song." instead of "Oh, this band."

In conclusion, I like Death Cab For Cutie, and listen to them often. Sorry about any misunderstandings.

iPod introspection.

So, I've been spending a lot of time out of my house lately, which has led me to exploring some of the functions on my iPod. Turns out that iTunes will automatically compile a playlist of the songs that you listen to most often ... so that you can listen to them more often.

I checked out my list. And it was odd. It's not an entirely accurate system. Turns out that if you take a song off your iPod and then put it back on, it will reset the count. Ditto if you change the file name. Also, it counts a "play" as reaching the end of the track, and sometimes I will skip back to the beginning of a song if I want to hear it again, so songs with long fade outs are under-represented. And a whole bunch of other explanations and excuses.

Anyway, as it stands, these are the songs I've played the most, on my iPod:
Love Song To My Guru - Katell Keineg with The Floors
(Fair. I've listened to this a million times.)
That's All Right, Mama - Arthur Crudup
(Really? It's catchy, but this is a surprise showing.)
Pistol - Dustin Krensue
(Fair. I love this song.)
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
(Fair. Embarrassingly enough.)
Portions For Foxes - Rilo Kiley
(True story: I didn't like this song at all when I first heard it, and then something clicked, and I listened to it all the time.)
Challengers - The New Pornographers
(Neko Case sing so pretty.)
All That I Want - The Weepies
(I haven't listened to this since Christmastide. This list is out of date!)
Endless Sleep - Jody Reynolds
(Surprising!)
From Where I'm Standing - Schuyler Fisk
(Jenny's right, she has a really pretty voice.)
Freedom Is Only A Hippogriff Away - The Mudbloods
(The only Wizard Rock song on the list! Seriously though, this is an excellent song even if you don't know Harry Potter from a hole in the ground.)
All The Old Showstoppers - The New Pornographers
(Hee! I just talked about this! I suspect stuffed ballots.)
Backwater Blues - Dave Van Ronk
(Again, really? Then again, there was a playlist that I had to listen to for a while because I was MAKING A CD FOR SOMEONE, and this was on it.)
Someday You Will Be Loved - Death Cab For Cutie
(Oy. In my defense, this would make a great fan video that I'll never make.)
Hiding In Plain Sight - Lauren Hoffman
(I'm surprised she's not better represented - I listened to her A LOT a while back.)
We Throw Parties, You Throw Knives - Los Campesinos!
(Hee!)
Paperweight - Schuyler Fisk and ... some dude.
(No really, she sings pretty.)
Keep On The Sunny Side - The Whites
(Again, hee!)
Australia - The Shins
(Yup. Totally fair.)
I've Just Seen A Face - The Beatles
(Really?)
Both Hands - Ani DiFranco
(Utterly fair.)
Expectations - Belle And Sebastian
(Fair.)
The Engine Driver - The Decemberists
(I guess? Although I've listened to "Yankee Bayonet" so many more times, I think.)
1234 - Feist
(Really?)
So Long - Guster
(I guess so!)
Diggin' My Potatoes - Lonnie Donegan
(Hee! Hee! Hee!)


Um. So, geez. What this playlist tells me is that I'm really fucking maudlin. And that I may have the Blues. What the hell?

So, the first thing is, Umbridge is a Hufflepuff.

I had to go back and check on what Hufflepuff qualities actually are because, while this is a very clear thing in my head, "Because she is" probably isn't very convincing. Although, really, I've heard that you can convince plenty of people that something is true simply by saying it, so bear that in mind for the future.

Part of the reason that I think Umbridge is a Hufflepuff is that I don't think she fits in any other house. Or, to make this easier, I don't think she's a Slytherin. Intelligence fosters dissent and heroes break rules, so I'm crossing off Ravenclaw and Gryffindor before we start.

So, turns out that Hufflepuffs like the following things: Hard work, Fair Play, and Loyalty.

Hard Work - Can't tell me that lady's not hardworking. It may not be towards the right ends, but that's one motivated woman. Look at how fast she got those pamphlets and crap out!

Fair play - Um. Look over there! Actually, no. While on the surface it seems that Umbridge was unfair to everyone - she wasn't. She wanted everyone to play by the rules - her rules, but the rules nonetheless. If they did, they were rewarded. If they didn't, they were punished. She doesn't see her rules as being unreasonable, so this is her metric of fairness and she's actually very faithful to it.

Loyalty - This is where most of my argument lies. I always thought of Umbridge as representing the dark side of loyalty. She is unflinchingly loyal to the Ministry, its people, and its policies. In the podcast, they talked about the changes in the Ministry in the seventh book, and how they believed that Umbridge's acceptance of these very drastic changes was evidence of her ambition and disregard for everything else. I don't think that's true at all. First of all, the changes weren't that drastic. There was no official take-over of the Ministry. As far as anyone on the inside was concerned, the Ministry was continuing as it always had, having nothing to do with Voldemort or any outside forces whatsoever. Such a position would be either very naïve, or willfully blind, but I think that describes Umbridge perfectly. She is so blindly loyal to the Ministry that in the end, it doesn't actually matter what the Ministry is. It doesn't matter what its policies are, what its goals are, or what actions it carries out. Umbridge is pro Ministry, whatever that means.

I don't think that Umbridge is a particularly ambitious person, which is the same as saying that I don't think she's a Slytherin. It's hard to say, though, because at a certain point, hard work and ambition conflate and it's hard to tell them apart. But her biggest goal was to be a supporter. Her biggest goal was to be the most important team player there was. She didn't want to be a rock star, she wanted to be the president of the fan club. She never wanted to actually be in charge, because she needed validation from whoever was in charge that she had done a good job. Yeah, she grabbed up power left and right at Hogwarts, but only so that she could tell Cornelius Fudge all about it and have him pat her on the head.

The other important thing to note about Umbridge is that she's a bigot. Why is that important? It's important because Slytherins don't have the market cornered on bigotry. I think, in fact, that her expressed prejudice is conditional to that of the people around her. As far as we saw, she had no opinion on Muggle-borns at all until the Ministry decided to go after them. As we heard, the Ministry had a long-standing bad treatment of part-humans, which probably allowed her personal dislike to flourish. She was just taking the views of the day to their most extreme end. If the Ministry suddenly decided to take of the cause of house elf rights, she'd probably denounce Hermione for not being pro-active enough.

Furthermore, there's this perception that Hufflepuffs are always nice and friendly and accepting of everyone, but that's not true. I'm remembering that scene in Chamber of Secrets when all the Hufflepuffs are gossiping about Harry, and then when they catch him overhearing, they fully turn their backs on him. Hufflepuffs can be insular and hive-minded at the worst of times. When cornered, their loyalty is to their own group, to the exclusion of anyone who's not in that group. Umbridge, again, gives an extreme example of that in the way that she treats Harry and the other students: if you're not with her group, worse, if you're against her group, then she seriously does not even have the wherewithal to be concerned about you.


I think I'm out of examples. BUT SERIOUSLY, THOUGH.

A narrowly defined genre.

A while back, Annika wrote in her blog an entry that I thought was truly cool. Really! I'm still talking about it! I'm sad that it didn't get more replies.

Today I discovered that I have liked a narrowly defined genre of music without even realizing it. (Though, to be fair, the boy pointed this out to me about a month ago.) It turns out that if you write a song about St. John the Divine, I will probably like it and listen to it a lot. It also turns out that this applies to a lot more songs than you would suspect!

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists - St. John the Divine (not technically a song about the man himself, for the most part)

Neko Case - John Saw That Number (even though she name drops John the Baptist, this song is actually about the guy who wrote Revelations)

Son House - John the Revelator (best bluesman ever)

The New Pornographers - All The Old Showstoppers (took me a while to discover this one, but there you go - same dude)

I'm sure there are more! I don't know what to make of this! Besides imaginary fanvids about Locke!

Guys, guys. Guess what this post is about!

This post is about Harry Potter. I know! It's been a couple months.

Also, I feel like I should mention (and, uh, apologize to the P@) that I won't be doing that thing where you summarize your life in six words. I just ... no. Sorry.

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT HARRY POTTER.*

As I've mentioned a few times, I listen to Harry Potter podcasts. Specifically, I listen to PotterCast and MuggleCast. Caz knows what I'm talking about. Anyway, I decided recently that I'm going to stop listening to MuggleCast. I just can't take it anymore. The last episode I listened to (which may or may not be the last one they put out) the hosts mispronounced (because they were clearly completely unfamiliar with) no fewer than four words, and not terribly complex ones at that. For example, "truant." You've been to fucking high school, don't even give me that. (I mean, except for the one girl on the show, who was homeschooled, and who therefore never has any trouble with pronunciation or comprehension.) Also, they debated why the Weasley twins would use the code name "Rodent" for that thing they do. (Are there still spoilers?) Is it because they're ratting people out or something? The Weasley twins, people. That, plus the way they massacre Latin every other episode just really pushed me over the edge. And! They all seem to enjoy Twilight, unironically, and I just don't even know what to do with that.

Not that PotterCast doesn't have its moments of stupidity. And then there's Sue Upton and her whole obsession with Hufflepuff, which, when I'm paying attention, makes me want to stab myself in the eye. Just the one eye, though. However, even with some lapses, I find myself pretty consistently entertained by PotterCast. So I'm going to keep listening to that one. They really need to cut out the segment with all the chicks who can't read off a page, though. Cut it, or give them a few speech lessons or something. I can't even pay attention to what they're saying half the time; it's painful.

Um. What's my point here? One of the dangers of listening to podcasts is that it's like reading a message board where you're not registered and can't reply to anything. It's very frustrating sometimes when you've got the answer down and they're floundering all over the place trying come up with something. And then you yell and curse at the air in front of you. It's awkward. It's why I listen to podcasts in my room.

There are two things that I'd like to discuss today that I've been thinking about because of podcasts. Well, actually, I'd been thinking about them before podcasts, but the podcasts gave me the desire to talk about it because apparently I'm the only one who understands. And, naturally, my blog is the only place where I have that kind of platform. But that's okay, you guys like Harry Potter. Right? You guys still like Harry Potter? Guys?

Okay, Issue 1. This is the general issue, and it has to do with Sorting, and how people are sorted. There seems to be this ... fundamental misunderstanding about Sorting. A widespread fundamental misunderstanding, that leads to unnecessary consternation about things like, why is Hermione in Gryffindor if she's so smart? Should Snape have been sorted into Gryffindor if he did brave things? Is Luna really smart enough to be in Ravenclaw?

Here's the thing. On casual inspection, Sorting seems like it's one thing. If you're smart, you go in Ravenclaw. If you're brave, or a jerk, you go in Gryffindor. If you're evil, you go in Slytherin, and if you're D. none of the above, you go in Hufflepuff. But see, you have to wonder. JK Rowling makes this big deal about how it's not our abilities that define us, but our choices. It's a theme. So, it's weird, then, for her to have this system in place where people are labeled, separated, and therefore defined, according solely to their abilities.

A-ha! Here's the crux: people are not sorted based on their abilities. They're sorted based on their values. Loyalty, bravery, intelligence, ambition: which one do you place higher than the rest? That's what Sorting is. Yes, Hermione is smart, but she would be a Gryffindor no matter how smart she was because, as she explains in the very first book: there are more important things [than book smarts]. Snape would never be a Gryffindor, no matter how many brave things he did, because he didn't give a shit about bravery.

This also explains why families tend to wind up in the same house. Look at the Weasleys. All of them wound up in Gryffindor, despite the fact that they're all very very different people with different talents and goals. Why? Because their parents instilled them with the same values growing up. I mean, at least until the time they were eleven. Neville (I want to punch in the face everyone who says Neville should have been a Hufflepuff) was raised to believe that his parents were the ultimate standard, his parents who were very brave. He was never going to be anything other than a Gryffindor. Sirius wound up in a house where none of the rest of his family had ever been placed because his values went against theirs.

I mean, I'm right, aren't I? You see the logic in this, don't you? So why does no one else seem to get this? (I don't mean you people. I mean the Harry Potter people.) Why are they still trying to figure out what houses people would be in based on what they do?


Which brings us up to Issue 2. And this is no where near as long. A couple weeks ago PotterCast had a discussion on what house Dolores Umbridge would be in. And they gave arguments for three options. Which was hilarious to me because the house that they didn't even consider is the house that I always assumed she would be in: Umbridge is totally a Hufflepuff. Think about it. I mean, I'll explain further if anybody wants, but ... think about it.


*Oh, snap, looks like I did it anyway.

ISSUES.

For the past week or so, I have have been getting inundated with ideas to make fanvids for Twilight.

I will take this opportunity to remind you that:
1. I still can't make fanvids.
2. I loathe Twilight.

GAH!

Schadenfreude is love.

There are few things that make me angrier than people driving all crazy around my also envehicled personage. There's usually gesticulating.

However, today, I figured out what can make that anger immediately dissipate. It's the greatest thing in the world. It is watching the person who swerved to cut you off get pulled over.

Woo hoo!!

One less.

Today I went to my doctor to get the first of three injections of Gardasil, the vaccination against human papillomavirus and cervical cancer.

I know that for most of my readers, this is something of a non-issue. The vaccine is for ages 9 - 26, which many of you aren't. Also, it's for chicks, and some of you are dudes. But, if you do fall within that age bracket, and you have a cervix, I would recommend that you get the vaccine.

But Amy, that one or two of you could say, what if I'm in a committed monogamous relationship (or, you know, engaged) with someone that I already know won't give me HPV? Isn't that the way you get it? Isn't this, essentially, a vaccine for, um, sluts?

And to that I would say, no. It's not a statement about morality. It says nothing about who you are or what you intend. You can hem and haw about why you probably don't necessarily really actually "need" it, but, let's get real. It's about not getting cancer. I like to do a variety of things in my life to help ensure that I won't get cancer, and this is one of those things. Seriously, if you could get a shot in the arm that would guarantee that you wouldn't get at least one form of cancer ... why on earth wouldn't you?

[/The More You Know]

Because Pat has better ideas for blogging than I do.

Here’s what happened when I seek/scanned through the radio stations in my car. My car’s a little old, and the seeker only works up, not down. It stopped on a lot of stations that were just static, too, which I have included for thoroughness rather than prudence.

This list was transcribed starting at approximately 6:30 PM, after I arrived home from driving. Yes, when I arrived home. I should note that I only recently started listening to the radio, and even then only very tentatively. But I’ve also started driving a lot more, so it balances out. Still, though, I know very little about what’s on the radio. Just that it’s usually crap.

This took longer and is longer than I originally thought it was going to be.

87.7 – There’s a song playing that sounds like an extended dance remix of the Rolling Stones. Really? Oh, apparently this is a new song by Mick Jagger! And apparently this is “The Pulse of New York.”

88.3 – Jazz

89.3 – Static. Thanks, seek.

89.5 – A song is on. What is this? Slipknot? This sounds like Slipknot. Skip.

89.7 – Static.

89.9 – Jazz again, only this time with more sax. Ugh. I think the saxophone is the only instrument I really dislike.

90.1 – A song is playing. What is this, reggae? Hip-hop? Reggae hip-hop? Okay, apparently, this is “New York’s Cabbie Flavor.” I’M NOT KIDDING.

90.7 – A song is playing. Soft rock or something. Maybe emo. I can’t really make out the lyrics, so I’m giving this a skip.

91.1 – WFMU [Preset 1]. Here’s the deal with this station. I’ve recently been talking with Sarah from the WD, and she’s a real big fan of WFMU. My the boy also claims that he told me about it months ago, which may or may not be true. They’re an ad-less “freeform” music station. And they are frequented by Local-Boy-Made-Good Love of My Life, Ted Leo. Should be great! Unfortunately, most of the time I listen to it, someone is talking. And talking. You really have to cross your fingers to even hope to hear music, and then it’s pretty hit or miss. Right now, they’re playing some kind of world music that I have no hope of identifying. Skip.

91.5 – Some dude is talking about Hitler. Um, in a historical way. Not a Neo-Nazi way. Now he’s talking about German-American saboteurs? Tempting, but, no. Skip.

92.3 – K-Rock! [Preset 4] I find myself listening to K-Rock the most out of any station these days. Time was, they sucked big time. But now they have all these gimmicks that have made it both more musically satisfactory, and more entertaining (Pat would probably enjoy it). Like their “March Bracket Brawl” and how every Monday, they play listener-submitted playlists, exclusively. The weird side effect of this is that the station sounds like it’s being broadcast out of the 90s. I don’t mean that it sounds like they’re “playing 90s music”. It’s not like “The Best Mix of the 90s!” I mean that it sounds like radio sounded about a decade ago. It’s seriously like everything stopped updating after 1996. Not that that’s a bad thing. Right now the English dude is on. I don’t know who he is yet, but he sounds like a young Londoner transposed to Manhattan, and his name is Ian. So radio DJ is probably really what he’s best qualified for. He’s talking about … something. The Raconteurs’ new album, I believe. Oh! And now, as if to prove my point, they’re playing “Basket Case” by Green Day.

92.7 – Spanish music.

93.1 – More Spanish music.

93.9 – Some dude talking about our war expenditures. Oh wait, now they’re playing music. Oh, no, sorry, that was just their theme music. He’s now talking about something I’m too bored to listen to.

94.7 – Classical music. It’s choral right now.

95.5 – PLJ. This is my sister’s favorite radio station. They’re alright. They play new music, but the kind that’s just new and popular enough to make someone who was young in the 80s feel with it, but bland enough that they won’t get freaked out and alienated by it. Ahem.

96.3 – More classical music. And I think this is the station my clock radio is set to. Or maybe not any more. I have no idea what it’s set to, really. It used to be loud static. Woo boy, that’ll wake you up. Anyway, that was the King Arthur Suite by Elgar.

96.5 – Hip-hop, and ads! At the same time! Genius!

96.7 – More FM talk radio, but this time in Spanish.

97.1 – A song is playing. Won’t someone please show this poor fellow the way? Because the devil is trying to break him down. I don’t know what this song is, even though I probably ought to; I’ve heard it enough times. It was on the commercial for a movie that ran all the time a while back, but I forget which one.

97.5 – Dude. This sounds like reggae gospel. That’s fucking awesome!

97.9 – Some dude is speaking very loudly and emphatically in Spanish. … And now some more people are laughing very loudly and emphatically. (In Spanish?)

98.3 – Celine Dion is telling me that I was her strength when she was weak. I have no idea what this station is.

98.5 – Static.

98.7 – A commercial for PNC Bank. I have no idea what this station is.

98.9 – Static.

99.1 – I am being told that this is “Star 99.1.” What is this? OH!! This is Christian rock. Skip.

99.5 – Someone is talking about Halliburton and oil and today’s war protests. Now they have an audio clip of an 18-year-old girl who was picked up at one. Um, by the police, I mean. Lord. She should … not talk.

99.9 – There’s an ad for a record store on, ironically. Or maybe a club? I don’t know what this station is, but I have a feeling I won’t like it.

100.1 – static.

100.3 – Z100. My niece, who will be ten in May, loves Z100. It’s totally her favorite station. Z100 also used to be my favorite station … when I was ten. Then one day I decided that the music had just started to suck too much and I more or less gave up radio all together. Z100 was, and I believe still is, the biggest radio station in New York. However, I’ve recently wondered if it isn’t just the sort of enterprise that’s only cool if you’re ten. Right now, someone seems to be singing in Spanish? All I can make out is the word “marshmallows.” Skip.

100.5 – Static plus carry-over from Z100.

100.9 – More of the same. Told you they were big. They broadcast from the top of the Empire State Building.

101.1 – CBS FM. This used to be the station that my father listened to all the time, because they played “oldies” by which they meant doo wop. Then a few years ago, they redefined “oldies” to mean “the 70s.” I’m not sure what changes they’ve since undergone, but right now they’re playing "96 Tears" by Question Mark & the Mysterians.

101.3 – Static.

101.5 – I have no idea what station this is, but right now they’re having the traffic report. There’s lots of pockets of traffic on Westbound 80. And also lots of traffic in general. It’s been raining all day, you see. Oooh, an overturned tractor-trailer! … I’ve just now realized how many times I’ve heard that phrase in my life. Probably more than is seemly?

101.7 – Static.

101.9 – I feel sure that this is a real station of some sort, but I don’t know what it is, and right now they have a Jeep commercial on. Oh wait, that’s right. This is CD 101.9. They play smooth jazz. God bless Jeep.

102.1 – Static.

102.5 – More Spanish music, but far more peppy than the other ones!

102.7 – “Fresh” 102.7. This is the brand new “Fresh” light music station. As opposed to the old light music station that we’ll encounter later on in our program. Right now they’re playing commercials.

102.9 – Static.

103.1 – Staticy Bible talk!

103.5 – KTU, “The Beat Of New York”. Right now some chick from Brooklyn is OMGing over something. Oh, she’s going to St. Lucia, courtesy of the radio station. That’s certainly nice of them. … I believe we’ve all just witnessed the best thing about KTU. Let’s move on.

103.7 – Static.

104.1 – Static.

104.3 – Q104, “New York’s Only Classic Rock Station”. [Preset 2] Q104 is pretty much my default station. They tend to play the same songs over and over again, but at least I know them all. Unfortunately though, they’ve recently decided that Nirvana and Pearl Jam fall under the purview of classic rock, and I don’t truck with that bullshit. Also, not to tattle, but one time they played Nickelback. Hand to God. Anyway, right now they are playing the tail end of “Layla”, so of course now I’m thinking about Goodfellas.

104.5 – Static and bits of Layla.

104.7 – Calypso!

104.9 – Static.

105.1 – I don’t know what station this is, but right now they’re playing a Rachael Ray/Dunkin Donuts commercial, so I’m already biased against it. (NB: I don’t hate Rachael Ray because everyone else hates her. I hate her because she pops up everywhere just like Jaslene on America’s Next Top Model . JASLENE’d! That shit makes me crazy.)

105.5 – Fat bottomed girls make the rockin’ world go ‘round! Woo hoo! I have no idea what this station is! But I’d like to go inside soon, so I’m moving on!

105.9 – Ads in Spanish.

106.3 – A song is playing. About a girl named Carrie Ann? Not the Hollies song. Oh, maybe it’s “carry on”? The singer really wants me to carry on. Is this the Used? This sounds like the Used. Skip.

106.5 – Static.

106.7 – Lite FM. I’m not saying that to be deprecatory, that’s really the name of the station. This is the Old School Lite Station that “Fresh” is rebelling against. However, right now, David Bowie is entreating me to dance in my red shoes, so, advantage to the Old School.

107.1 – The Who are goin’ mobile!! I seriously have no idea what this station is! But maybe I’ll check it out again later.

107.5 – A Honda commercial.

107.9 – [Preset 6*] I recently discovered that this is “We Be 108**” (which must be their call letters), and it’s broadcast out of Connecticut. Connecticut!! They play “Connecticut’s Best Music Mix.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I preset them because one day when nothing else was on they were playing Love Shack. Sometimes it’s just that easy, people. I wouldn’t say that they play light music, but I wouldn’t say they play good music, either. Mostly, they play songs that I don’t hate. Like right now, when everyone else has commercials on, they are playing “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” I’m okay with that.

*You may have noticed that I have no presets at 3 or 5. … Deal with it.
** I find it interesting that both Pat’s and my stations at 107.9 tout themselves as “108.” Radio stations and horseshoes, eh?

Wtf?

Anthony Minghella is dead.

I feel like I should promise to post when people aren't dead. But seriously, what the fuck.

I lied! There's four!

I've been without steady internet for a while: I'm glutting. I just made four posts. Scroll down. Collect them all!

I've been thinking about adding a sidebar to by blog. Somewhere. Now that I'm not in 800x600 anymore, there's a lot of blank space on here, and that seems imprudent. The last post should totally go in a sidebar post. As should this.

Sidebars are basically Testing for blogs.

Speaking of which, it seems today is the board's and my 8-year anniversary. I'm not going to tell it this time, though.

Alright, now, seriously.

Am I the only person who knows that it's spelled storey? And that the plural is storeys? Seriously! Did I grow up in a parallel universe? The spellcheck isn't even recognizing it!

Brad Renfro is still dead.

I watched the Oscars on Sunday. Apparently not too many people did. Probably because it's usually in March: what the hell?

They got to the memoriam, and by the end I was quite upset. Not because of who they mentioned, but because of who they didn't. That's right, Brad Renfro. My mother claimed that the list was sort of a number of people who'd died last year, but I don't know about that.

When he died, I checked out Access Hollywood, which my mother usually has on while she eats dinner. I was waiting for them to say something, but they never did. A slew of weeks later, the same show released what turned out to be Mr. Renfro's last interview. He looked rough and bloated. He talked about how he hoped people would remember him as a great actor. It was very sad. Afterwards, the video was outtroed with an alarming coldness. "Yeah, he got all fucked up on drugs, now he's dead, let's move on." I'm barely exaggerating. They wouldn't curse on network television, of course.

I don't know. It seems like it's a thing. Why? I really don't understand this, but it's definitely standing in stark relief against, you know, the treatment of that other fellow who died recently.

Parenthetical: (I have nothing against Heath Ledger, nor the outpouring of grief for him. I was honestly not upset by his passing, but I don't mean that to be a remark on him, and any anger or negativity I have is not directed at him. It's merely frustration at this ... thing. Mr. Ledger just happened to die. It's not his fault.)

Seriously, is it just me?

At least it was technically free.

This is one of at least three blog posts that I plan on writing today. Right now. With only breaks to get more apple juice and maybe dinner, depending on how late this goes.

Okay, so, what this post is about is, see, I recently picked up and read Twilight, the first in the eponymous book series by author Stephenie Meyer. I would like to talk about that.

Fair warning, if you have any interest in reading this series, you probably shouldn't read any more, because I really don't know if I can be bothered to use spoiler tags. Maybe, though! We'll see.

Twilight has recently been heavily pimped by the Harry Potter podcasts I listen to. Prior to that, I don't think I'd heard of it. The Potter geeks are interested because a movie version is in the process of being made, and the male lead is to be played by Robert "at least three 't's HOTTT" Pattinson, better known to most of us as the late, lamented, Cedric Diggory. After some cursory research, I found that the film will also include a few more people whom I register on the neutral/positive spectrum: Kristen Stewart, whom I greatly enjoyed in Panic Room, wherein she played a character who was essentially Lauren (though I've so far not managed to see her in anything else), and Michael Welch, who was wonderful as Amber Tamblyn's brother on "Joan Of Arcadia."

Variety of title style is getting a workout in this entry.

So, anyway, after they'd mentioned this a few times, I decided to try it out. I was promised sexy times, action adventure, and vampires. Seriously, odds are it was up my alley.

I went to the library to try to snag it there, but for the third time in a row, the book was listed as being in the library, but it was not on the shelf. So, either my public library has a large problem with theft, or they can't catalogue for shit. I wound up picking it up at the Barnes & Noble because I found a gift card I had for $30. I also finally picked up the last Ted Leo album.

The book is about 500 pages, and I finished it in less than 24 hours, gross time, even with doing other actual activities. This book bothered me greatly. Why, you may ask? It is a resplendent example of why I'm scared to write a novel: because I worry that this is the sort of story I would produce. Now, don't misunderstand. I'm not saying I didn't like it. I did, after all, just pay it the high compliment of saying that I could see myself writing it.[/hubris] I'm saying that it wasn't any good.

I checked out the author's website, and I read some of her background on her writing. (This is her first novel.) Among the things that quirked my lip corners: She got the idea for this story from a dream. Also, she obsesses mainly over the details of the characters. And she looks a lot like Charisma Carpenter. That last point is just for color.

She takes an awful amount of pages to say not very much. There's no plot to speak of, except towards the end where the characters passively happen to fall into a weak and contrived scenario. There's no active decision making that I can remember at all. The writing is painfully repetitive. The human girl's vampire boyfriend is very pretty. The author mentions this in every sentence in which he is described. Which happens 5-10 times for every scene that he's in. ... Which is pretty much every scene. Also, the human girlfriend is clumsy. Vampires are pale. She loves her vampire boyfriend. Her breath catches. Her heart beats erratically. Et cetera. Also, the vampire boyfriend has some sort of issue where he'll go from laughing to scowling and angry to smiling every other sentence. In a few years, if you're ever flipping through the premium channels and you catch Mr. Pattinson and he's doing this - he's not insane. He's in character.

The secondary vampire characters are all fairly ridiculous and not worth mentioning. They attend high school for Chrissakes. Listen, if you were a hundred years old, would you go back to high school? On purpose? Even if people left you alone and you aced all your tests and occasionally got a human girlfriend? No. You would not. There are a variety of subplots that wind up never having anything to do with anything. And of course there's the usual dilemma. You know, the vampire boyfriend totally loves the human girlfriend and they want to be with each other forever, but of course he doesn't want to make her a vampire. Except, see, in the mythology created by this book, and in the context of this story, this makes no effing sense. Seriously. As written, every single objection is discounted or can be worked around. So the dilemma comes across as preposterously artificial, and I was instantly tired with the whole thing as soon as we got there. Because I've read this before. Innumerable times. And it's been done. Better.

Of course, they don't really address the question of whether or not vampires have souls. I'm going to have to come down on the side of "no" though, because of one exchange. The vampire boyfriend claims that he likes music from the 50s and the 80s, but not the 60s or the 70s. And I can't. freaking. understand that! He must be evil, because that's a completely soulless thing to say. Furthermore, it doesn't make any sense. Most of the music in the 80s was a direct derivative of the music they were playing in the 70s, except for the teeny pop, which was based on the music of the early 60s. THAT SHIT MAKES NO SENSE. Get me a flow chart. What is he saying? That he would rather hear Tiffany than the Jackson 5? He would rather listen to Billy Joel than Bob Dylan? Poison is better than the Zep? Is he seriously saying that he prefers WHAM! to the Beatles? Human girlfriend: dump his stupid evil ass.

Of course, the author listed some of her musical preferences on her website, and she's got shit taste, too, so this perhaps explains it.

So, wait, what was my point? Oh yes. I worry that I would write something like this. I mean, obviously, my taste in music is better, and I would like to believe that my writing skills are better, but about the meandering plotless vacuum with excessive focus on character thing. About vampires or something like that. What's baffling, though, is that this series seems to have a large cult following. It's mostly teenage girls OMGing about romance and hot boys, but still. It was a NY Times bestseller. It's gotten all sorts of good reviews from various sources. Is it me? Are people just not that discriminating anymore? And ... I don't know, could that conceivably work to my advantage?

I'm not as keyed up about it as the entry probably sounds, though I have all these issues. Again, I didn't dislike it. I'm a sucker for vamp angst. It's like chicken. Even if it's not the greatest, I'll probably eat it. It's one of the few things I enjoy. But I definitely won't be getting the follow-up books. Especially as I'm given to understand that a werewolf storyline gets introduced, and man, I just don't have the time. The book collectively took less than 6 hours of my life, but I just do not have the time for that.

I'm pretending to be a writer today.

I had a little burst of inspiration last night that got me thinking about some of the stories that I would, in theory, like to write some day. I pulled out Robert McKee's Story and everything and am now reading the first chapter.

I'd like to write one of the stories in a particular way. I feel no fear in talking about this because I have zero plot, and therefore nothing to steal. I'd like to write a story wherein the main character is not the protagonist. What I mean is, I'd like to have the bulk of the events happen to, and for most of the action to come from, a character who is not the focus of the story. Not in a Nick Carraway kind of capacity, necessarily, but more that the main character doesn't really understand or get involved with the events of the story at all.

Can I do that? Has that been done before? I mean, I assume that it has, but I'm wondering if there are examples that could be brought to my attention.

In which I look totally fucking emo.

Backstory: This coming Saturday there's an audition in town that I was considering going to. Even though I would have to get there late, because my Business Venture ties me up for a good chunk of my Saturdays. I can't let that stop me! Plus, I think I would be well-suited to that one role. No, not the sax player. I am not in the slightest bit emo, but I have range. Although, ironically, and for the first time ever, I may be too tall.

Of course, if you read all the small print, winning the audition would include not simply playing an emo character, but ... becoming part of an actual emo band. And while I would love to play a character and/or be in a band, there are certain lines that cannot be crossed. Which lead me to my decision of "no."

But!! Not until I had already tarted myself up emo-style to prove to myself I could. And took pictures. For the record, this is generally what my awesome new hair looks like. It looks even better when I'm not wearing all black and lipstick for eyeliner.

Emo!
Emo!!
Emo!!!

I feel the strange urge to get a MySpace.

Well done, sister suffragette.

A few weeks or so ago, I was watching Mary Poppins. Several times. It was on. I have never seen The Sound Of Music except for a few pieces. I'm fine with that. Mary Poppins covers it for me. It has the privilege of being on a list of films that I have, at one point or another, watched obsessively.

So, you know Mrs. Banks? I always liked her, but as a zany. What is her deal, anyway!? I had no idea what women's suffrage was. So, it was interesting to watch the film many years onward and feel ... kind of great about Mrs. Banks. In song she predicts "our daughters' daughters will adore us." And, well, Mrs. Banks is fictional. And there's the trouble of what exactly is the deal with her first wave feminism versus how she interacts with George? I do adore her, though. I adore all the women she represents.

Oh, shit!

Heath Ledger is dead.

This news is so fresh I can't even find a link for it. I know this because my sister called me to tell me. I didn't like him as much as I liked Brad Renfro, but I am still shocked. I had no idea Heath Ledger was all fucked up. Plus, baby.

Posting into the void.

You know how there are those movies, in which a person dies, but they don't realize they're dead? Or invisible? And they don't figure it out until they start realizing that no one can hear them, and they're not affecting anything in the physical world?

I'm starting to feel like that, only, on the internet.

Did I internet-die and just not realize it?

The hell, people. The hell.

Oh, shit.

Brad Renfro is dead.

I am very sad about this. From the ages of 10 to maybe about 16, I nursed an occasional crush on Brad Renfro. Not just because I thought he was so dreamy, but because I really thought he was a wonderfully talented actor. I've never seen him in any role where he wasn't excellent. He had "it." I knew that in recent years he had had Troubles, like y'do, but this news was really shocking. I'm quite upset.

I got my hair cut.

It's pretty hot.

Unfortunately, since I can't seem to take a picture of it worth a damn, you'll just have to take my word for it. It's still ridiculously long, but now it has layers, and bangs that half fall in my eyes on purpose.

Not I'm going to go bop around to "Endless Sleep" by Jody Reynolds with my attractive hair. That's the kind of hot I mean.

Oh dear.

88% Dennis Kucinich
86% Mike Gravel
74% Chris Dodd
71% Joe Biden
70% Hillary Clinton
70% John Edwards
68% Barack Obama
64% Bill Richardson
37% Ron Paul
37% Rudy Giuliani
29% John McCain
21% Mike Huckabee
21% Mitt Romney
19% Tom Tancredo
11% Fred Thompson

2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz

And another thing.

I decided to start reading "The Stand" again. This conclusion was pretty inevitable, given the progression of things. As I've been revisiting this story, I've been reflecting on a certain aspect of it. This is something I've been thinking off and on about lately, but something that I had never thought of before.

The miniseries adaptation is pretty good as far as those things go. There's one aspect that it misses, though, something that's a lot clearer in the book. You don't really get a sense of how young these characters are. Seriously, most of the main characters are pretty young: Larry is 24. Nick is 22. Fran is 21. Harold is 16. They are so young.

Of course, when I first read the book, I was 10, and none of this made any impact on me. It wouldn't have mattered if they were 20 or 30 or 40. They were vastly older than I. It was so vague and distant and in-the-realm-of-fiction that I wouldn't have been surprised to see them do anything at all.

At Christmas this year, my sister's goddaughter (whom I will therefore call my niece), who is nine, proclaimed that I was still cool. This, she said, because, "it's not like [I'm] 27 or anything." The only response I could come up with was "Well. That is very true!" It is! It is indeed not like I'm 27 or anything. So I guess that's something.

It's just that this gives me a profoundly different perspective that I never could have imagined beforehand. I'm now reading about these characters, with less life experience than my own, going about doing these activities and having these things happen to them. They're not even as old as I am! They're so young.

And the weird thing is, there was no solid mark where I began feeling this way. There was no point at which I was able to know that I was on one side and these other people, these young people, were on the other. Actually, here's a good way of putting it. A little while ago, I was reading another book that I also, coincidentally, read for the first time in 1994: "The Vampire Lestat." Yes, I know. Shut up. (This was one of the books I replaced because it was falling apart. I'm not sure why; it wasn't that old. I had picked it up in the airport bookseller's before flying out to Mexico.) Anyway, in the book, Lestat becomes a vampire. Obviously. He is pretty immediately able to embrace the mindset that he is no longer human. He is what he is, and they have all suddenly become They. Nothing that dramatic happened for me.

Of course, Lestat was only 21 when that happened. So he was really young.

Is it St. Stephen's Day already? "'Tis," replied Aunt Helga!

I know that's not the line, but I'm rolling with it.

So, on the day before the day before Christmas (which in my reckoning is actually "the day before Christmas" - don't ask), I was watching most of Stephen King's "The Stand" on the Sci Fi Channel. Which apparently came out in 1994! So that's one mystery solved. I remember I watched it because my sister had read the book and wanted to see the miniseries, but she was going to be out and about. ... Every night. So she wanted me to tape it for her, which I did. It should have only taken four tapes, but I wound up utilizing five, because one tape malfunctioned right in the middle of Part 2, and I had to flounder around and jam in a new one. So my home-made set is missing most of Nadine's breakup message to Larry. It was weird getting to hear it again. I totally don't remember that part! At the end of the miniseries, I bound all the tapes together with masking tape, and decorated it like a box set. I gave it to my sister when she moved out, and I think she lost it.

Then I read the book: unabridged. My sister gave me her copy, which was alarmingly tattered. It was missing both the front and back cover. To this day, I don't know how the story ended, because the top right corner of the very last page is ripped off. Very disappointing! Even though I'm pretty sure I got the gist. One of these days, I will have to get a new copy of that book. I have a few books that are in various states of disrepair and lacking in a handful of pages that I am endeavoring to replace. This is both good and bad. Good because I can, you know, actually read the books if I want to without fear that they will fall apart, but bad because I ... don't like the new editions. I feel the need to explain my having the books, even if no one sees me read them. I used to have a much older version! Don't think I just got this recently! I mean! I did, but ... oh the hell with it.

Anyway, in "The Stand" there is a plague that kills 99.4% of the population. That sounds like it would be pretty much everyone, but if such a thing were to happen now, where the global human population is hovering somewhere around 7 billion, that would still leave some 42 million people milling about. For reference, this was about the size of the world's population about 5 thousand years ago, perhaps when the Greeks were beginning to get their shit together.

There's no point to this observation. Just a "... Huh." moment I felt like sharing with the internet.

This seems like a good time to bum people out.

I was mentioning to Pat, after my post about my grandfather, that I had hoped, with my next post, to write about a topic of great social and political import. (Not about the state of my automotive ownership, not unless a certain manufacturer starts producing hybrids.) Anyway, as you can probably tell already, I didn't do that, as I was occupied with other extremely important matters.

So, what would I like to talk about? Well, as I'm sure you know, for a while now there has been bad shit going on in the country of Sudan. That's right, Darfur. I'm not exactly sure what my point in posting this will be, or why I feel compelled to talk about it. The bottom line is this: The situation in Darfur fucks me up. I know I haven't mentioned this before. I haven't actually mentioned this to anyone at all. I don't do a lot of talking about things like this, even though, truth be told, I think about them frequently.

I've always been a bit fascinated with the African continent. After all, that's where the monkeys come from. But even before I was interested in monkeys, I knew that I had a greater interest than your average citizen of the Western Hemisphere. When I was in [insert year of school here, because I can't remember], I took one of three classes that took me by complete surprise, both with how much they taught me and how much they influenced me. This class was called Anthropology of Africa. (The other two were Geology And Human Evolution and Storytelling.) It was a cultural anthropology course, which may explain why I didn't have too much enthusiasm going in. (I tend to be more interested in dead people's clay pots and, of course, monkeys, than I am in ethnographies.) On the first day of class, we were immediately quizzed and challenged to write down the names of all the African countries we knew. Glancing around at my peers, it seemed that most of them were coming up with about 5-10. Maybe for some a few more. I got all but three: Seychelles, Comoros, and Lesotho. (The first two because I forgot their names, and the last because I, um, forgot it existed. Sorry Lesotho! Blame Swaziland!) Yes, I was a total teacher's pet.

But, you know, going in, all I had were names, things I had picked up from maps. A few details here and there, but that was largely it. Coming out, I was able to converse on pretty much any issue facing the whole of the continent from the time of colonization up to the present.

We didn't talk about Sudan. I'm not even sure if we knew it was happening at that time, though it was definitely happening. What we did talk about was Rwanda, and the genocide that took place there in 1994. Learning about this devastated me. Watching the news footage devastated me. Listening to the stories of the survivors devastated me. Watching President Clinton intone "Never Again" in front of the Washington D.C. Holocaust Museum as a real live genocide was being committed devastated me. Knowing that the whole thing was basically ignored, devastated me.

It also allowed me to engage in fantasies about What I Would Have Done. Now, obviously, I was around when this was going on. But I was 10. That's as acceptable excuse as any. And of course, the American media gave it hardly any coverage, and I wasn't socially aware enough to seek out information on my own. I was 10. There's that. Then there's also, as you may have gathered, the uniquely personal events that made 1994 so devastating. Seriously, I don't remember much of what happened that year. There are periods of nothingness as if I had blacked out for months. So, I give myself a pass for this time. But if that were going on now? Why, surely I would be doing something. I'm not sure what exactly, but it would be impressively noble. It would be commendable. If it were, I would be.

And of course, it is. And I'm not. I'm doing nothing. I say that I am doing nothing. I have done some things. I have given hundreds of dollars to various humanitarian efforts. I have written to my elected officials and the United Nations impassioned missives on the need to do something. I support Amnesty International, who do the most. I haven't actually left my house. I have a hard time thinking that I've done anything but sit around and blink dully. Because that's all I have done. That's all it's amounted to. I have not done anything commendable. I have not done anything that would make a difference. Most of the time, I try not to think about this. I try not to think about the fact that I'm not thinking about it.

What's worse than devastated?

Best news ever?

You decide.

HOLY CRAP.

It turns out that my eyebrows have been crooked. For at least the last several years.

I fixed them! Don't worry! They are duly symmetrical now. But holy crap.

Again with this?

Today is my grandfather's birthday. (There are many Sagittarii in my family.) He would have been 99, but he died 10 years ago. When I was little, I always used to ask him what he wanted to do for his 100th birthday. He was old, you see. He laughed and said he wasn't going to worry about it unless it seemed imminent.

So, I'm 24 now, right? Or, as my grandfather would say, I'm in my 25th year. A few weeks ago, I found some things out about my grandfather: 1. His first name. 2. He served in the army.

Let's get back to that first one. I always thought my grandfather's name was Gerard. Turns out it's Thomas. Gerard was his middle name, and when he started school, he decided he liked it better, and went by such. According to some letters I found, his friends called him Gerry. I'm mildly freaked out by this news. (Do you see? Do you see how going by your middle name screws with people? Do you see?) Of course, when I think about it, it doesn't exactly break a pattern. You see, I didn't learn that my grandfather's name was Gerard until I was about ... oh, maybe 7? You see, up until then, I thought his name was Bud.

Apparently, it's the thing in Irish families to call a young man Bud, or Buddy, or some variant thereof. My grandfather was nothing if not Irish. Unless it was a Catholic, but that's the same thing. Or a Democrat. Anyway, he was Bud to his sisters and to his mother. I have no idea when or how I picked this up as a wee thing: my grandmother never called him that, nor did his children or my sisters. Somehow, though, he was my Grandpa Bud.

I also call my sister Bud. That's a completely different story, which, surprisingly, has nothing to do with my grandfather. At least I don't think. My sister loved my grandfather to pieces, and he loved her likewise. We've determined that this may or may not have something to do with the fact that she looks exactly, eerily like his mother. We have a picture of his mother, or rather, my sister does. We've got several people convinced that it actually is my sister, and that she went down the shore and had one of those Olde Timey pictures taken. Not the case.

When my grandfather got pneumonia, my sister went to see him every day. She was the one who told him, when the holidays were over, that it was alright for him to go. She was the last one of us to see him alive. It is entirely fitting that she is now Bud.

Of course, she calls me Bud, too.

My next arbitrary milestone is at 35.

I hope I have all my shit together by then, because I don't think I have one lined up for after that.

Please take this opportunity to celebrate me. I'll wait.

Et tu, Andrew Bird?

What is the deal with music in commercials these days? It's pretty common practice for advertisers to invoke some old standard, or some song that you kinda remember but never thought about how easily it could be tailored to a message of commercialism. That's the thing, though, the music was "pre-used," let's say. Whatever the song, it had its day, however long or brief, it retired to obscurity (or not) then got to make its ignoble comeback in a 30-second spot about blenders. Or more likely cars.

I'm not writing this with the assumption that it will be a revelation to anyone. More I'm just hoping for an ... open dialogue? Something to alleviate my confusion? I don't know. Something.

More and more, I am hearing music on commercials that I've never heard before. WHAT'S MORE, it's music that I would not be averse to hearing again.

Seriously, what is the deal with this? Is it really the case that advertisement has suddenly become a venue for musical discovery? I don't even listen to the radio. If I discover new music, it's because I found it through the internet, or a tiny publication, or on a friend's recommendation, or because I saw them in person. I'm not trying to puff myself up like this is cool or anything, but ... oh, come on guys, it totally is. If this isn't cool then there's no such thing. This is the way the snobs get their music, isn't it?

Meanwhile, television commercials are the epitome of all that I, as a young, self-aware, socially-conscious, filthy pinko must despise, aren't they?

It's okay, calm down. I actually don't care at all in the way I'm pretending to. All I really care about is that I found some music that I like. Whatever I may claim from time to time, I'll listen to music if I like it. It doesn't have to meet any standard; it doesn't even have to be good. I mean, within this very year, I have listened to Debbie Gibson's Out Of The Blue, and I am completely comfortable with telling you that.

But I would be lying if I claimed that this weren't fucking with my Weltanschauung just a bit. It's ... it's freaking my establishment, people.

There are levels to this. It is multi-tiered. There's that terrible song by Vanessa Carlton with the treacly piano that's everywhere, and that's okay, I don't care about that. That song was out for a while prior, and she's in the dominion of pop anyway. Then, and this is true, I was in the waiting room at a doctor's office when I heard from the background television noise what I'm pretty sure was "Banking On A Myth." True story. I actually looked up and muttered, "Seriously?" before I could stop myself. (When I'm in public I usually try to pretend that I don't have any emotions.) Then, of course, there's my central problem: the songs that I've never heard before. The ones that make me look up and say, "Hey, this song's not bad. I have no idea what it is, but it's not bad." Are these people sell-outs? And ... don't I have to know who you are before you can sell out? I mean, really. There must be a before-career before there can be an after-career. But wait. Does that mean that I am a mass-market consumer?? HOLY SHIT!

This entry was spurred by the fact that this evening I made a playlist on my iPod entitled "Music I Heard On Commercials." I've acquired enough that I felt I needed to make a statement about it. A pitfall of many successful gimmicks, though, even though I latched onto the songs pretty well, I can't for the life of me remember what they were advertising. Although, of course, if I said "iPods," I'd probably be right at least half the time. Oh well, it's another thing I can blame Steve Jobs for, I guess.

Some samples from that list:
"Dance With Me" by The Sounds
"1234" by Feist
"Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg (he basically sounds just like Rufus Wainwright - I don't know if that makes me like him less, or more)
"All That I Want" by The Weepies

Turns out it was not the sweet potatoes.

Nor the stuffing!

Turns out it was the virus.

Not fun! Although, in related news, hooray for my delectable feast of crackers.

This was the perfect time for my health insurance provider to let me know that my coverage is going up again this year. By 250 more dollars.

Oy.

Oy.

Why did you hate me, Thanksgiving???

It's about 3:30 now, so I've decided that I should try eating something again. It is dry cereal.

Thanksgiving did not agree with me. Do not misunderstand: the food was sublime. We cut down on the dishes this year, so we actually only had the ones that everyone likes and eats. I had so much sweet potato. It was excellent!

However, somewhere in-between the soup and the nuts*, my body realized that it really only likes cereal right now. My stomach is actually sore, as if I had done many sit-ups. It's horrible.

*the cheese and the pie

42.

Today is my sister Karen's birthday. She would have been forty-two.



This is one of my favorite pictures of her. I'm sorry I couldn't get it any clearer. Please note the shirt.

THIS JUST IN: New Jersey has plants and animals!

So, you may or may not recall (because I may or may not have mentioned) that I claimed to have taken pictures around my house this summer. I finally got around to getting them online! They include some incidental pictures of my garden. In the Garden State. I swear to you I am not making any of this up.

Also, in September I went to Colorado, so I put up some pictures of that too.

Annoyingly, I cannot sort and structure and regulate the pictures as my obsessive-compulsiveness dictates that I must. This is because my free premium account has expired. Blast! I'll have to give them money or something! I'm sorry Christine. I mean, unless someone can recommend me a good alternative.

OK! Computer!

I actually don't like Radiohead, but the title still must be used sometimes.

Folks, I have an announcement. For the first time in nearly a decade, I have a new computer. Okay, there was that time when I went to college and I had my own computer, but then I stopped using it and switched back to the ol' junk bucket. That's not important right now.

What's important is that it's so sexy I want to cry.

Vista? It's not that bad. The wom-wom window effect might eventually give me a headache, but ... dear God. SO PRETTY.

When I was setting things up, I found myself, um, unconsciously stroking the console. It's just so smooth!!

But never mind all that now!

Oh, it's my blog! So, um, I did a whole bunch of stuff last month. No time to dwell on it! Also, I had a devil of a time coming up with something to blog about that didn't take too long and make me get tired and bored and stop. So instead, let me tell you about

Fan Videos I've Never Made, Part 2.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer - The Warrior, by Scandal (or Skandal. Kirk: I'm still not sure.)
First, let me tell you that I cannot believe I forgot to mention this one last time. This is the song that first brought the idea of actually making fan videos to my mind. One, because it's for Buffy, the fandom that introduced me to fanvids. Two, guys, seriously, you have no idea. Aside from being totally perfect for Buffy in every way, the song also name-drops or overtly references at least 5 different episode titles.

Well isn't love primitive?
A wild gift that you wanna give
Break out of captivity
And follow me you stereo jungle child
Love is the kill
Your heart's still wild

Harry Potter - My Body Is A Cage, Arcade Fire
I recently got a chance to listen to Neon Bible by Arcade Fire. It was okay, but not great. The songs tended to mumble and run together, and while I almost liked several of them, it was, as I quipped to the boy, like trying to decide which was your favorite shade of blue. My favorite shade turned out to be the song above. The sound is dark, moody, and epic, and yet it's somehow also adolescent and kinda gay. Hence, Harry Potter. It would probably work better after the next two films come out, and there's more material to work with.

I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow

Lord of the Rings (Battle of the Pelennor Fields) - All Along The Watchtower, Bob Dylan
Now, don't get me wrong. I realize that "All Along The Watchtower" has been used for everything ever. However, I would use the actual Dylan version, and that makes me better than most people. Furthermore, how many of those things that feature this song have an actual watchtower, with actual princes all along it? That's what I thought, bitches.

You don't need lyrics, right?


Thanks for reading! Tune in next time.

I am made of science!

Well, sort of.

You may recall some time ago I told you about my harrowing involvement with the Genographic Project and the rage that ensued. To update you on that, a few weeks after all the kerfuffle, I received a rather unceremonious email telling me that my order was being shipped. !!!!

What the hell my friends!

Anyway, I received my kit of science! I swabbed the insides of my cheeks. I plungered the implements into little fluid-filled vials. I packed them and shipped them off. It was very AP Bio. Except for the mailing. And I didn't get to see my cells at 250X magnification afterwards.

Then ... I waited! And I waited. And I waited some more! What would my results be? What! My mother's mother's mothers have lived in the Western Hemisphere for many generations. We are generally known to be of Dutch stock, but who knows? Perhaps I am Lene Lanape! Perhaps I am Inuit.

Um. I'm not. In fact, far from it. I am a member of the super pedestrian and half-inclusive Haplogroup H! We make up half of Europe!

OMG you guys we are all probably cousins you guys OMG.

My mtDNA differs from the Cambridge Reference Sequence in only one position! I'm almost scientifically famous!

Like a dutiful nerdful member of society, I have submitted to include my data in the published study. One tiny datum, doing my part. In addition, I have been offered a chance to have the free services of Family Tree DNA the premier ... something or other, I'm not really sure. I'm going to discuss it with my mother and sister (who, sharing my genetic matter, share in my test results) and see what they would like to do before submitting my information. I mean, I'm not really that fond of most of my family. I don't know that I'd like to know any more of them.

It would be nice if the results had told me which of Haplogroup H's 32 subclades I belong to. As is, the results are a bit bland (my foremothers came from Western Europe!), and, to be honest, a bit of a let down after all the hassle.

And for ironic kicks ...

1. Go to Career Cruising, www.careercruising.com
2. Put in Username: nycareers and Password: landmark.
3. Take their “Career Matchmaker” questions.
4. Post the top twenty results.


1. Costume Designer
2. Special Effects Technician
3. Animator
4. Fashion Designer
5. Makeup Artist
6. Set Designer
7. Graphic Designer
8. Artist
9. Computer Animator
10. Medical Illustrator
11. Comedian
12. Composer
13. Website Designer
14. Industrial Designer
15. Desktop Publisher
16. Cartoonist/Comic Illustrator
17. Actor
18. Musician
19. Video Game Developer
20. Magician

I'm not quite sure if I'm surprised about any of this! Also, I just want to make sure that no one worries about my current state of disemployment. Besides it being the best thing ever, I already have things in the works.

GUESS WHO QUIT HER JOB TODAY!!

Guess who is the happiest little muffin in the whole freaking land!

That's right my friends: ME.

Of course, it's not all sunshine and lollipops. For one thing, there's the fact that I wasted the last year and a half of my life. Wasted. I lost that time. There is not a single thing that happened in that time that I wouldn't give up to have that time back, but I will never ever have it back. This is depressing.

However. I am so. freaking. happy. right. freaking. now. I would be shouting, but I must maintain decorum. Tomorrow.

Brilliant!!

Jim Broadbent is Horace Slughorn.

rest of the cast listed alphabetically:

So, remember when I was in that movie that's sort of about the Beatles but not really? Apparently it will be coming to a theater that may near you in less than a fortnight. Go see it! I hope it doesn't suck! In any case, though, it'll be nice to know what it's about, finally. I hear it has something to do with the 60s.

So, I'm an extra in this movie. And not even a glorified one a that. And, well, my career's slowed down a little since then. However, if you follow the link above, and you check out the cast list, you may notice that the rather expansive assembly are in just that same boat, playing "high school students" and "protesters" and "hippies" and what have you. For most of them, it is their only credit.

What this means, basically, is that I have every opportunity to, like my fellow props and scenery, claim involvement and grab myself an IMDb page. I have not done this. I've debated doing it, but so far I have not.

I'm not 100% clear on why this is. It may have something to do with the fact that nothing I do is ever good enough. I was in a movie! Yeah, but I was an extra. I was in another movie where I was actually in the credits! Yeah, but it was a short, and I didn't have any lines. I directed a play off-off-Broadway! Yeah, but it was in a crappy theatre. I have yet to impress myself with anything I've done. And I don't just mean professionally, I mean in pretty much all aspects of my life. There are some notable exceptions: When I was about 12, I made a lemon cake, and it looked just like a picture. It was gorgeous. I faux-painted my dining room, and I still can't get over how great it looks.

If I think of anything else, I'll let you know.

On the other hand, this may also have something to do with the fact that, no, really, I haven't done anything worth mentioning. I mean, you have these people. They've been in one legitimate film, hidden in a shady corner for two frames, and as soon as they get home from the shoot, they're zipping to the Internet Movie Database to add themselves. This is ridiculous, and I can't help but scorn these people. Let's leave aside the question of why it's a big deal to get an IMDb page in the first place. I'm not really sure. I don't want to be one of these people. Would I like to see my name on there? I sure would! But I would like to see it on there for something legitimate. Did I work on the movie? Yes. Did they pay me? Yes. SAG waived, actually! Will my name be listed anywhere in the credits? No. Does anyone have any idea who the fuck I am, and do they care? No. As such, I have no business being listed anywhere on the internet as having been in the "cast". They don't list who was working for craft services, either, you know.

Then, you know, what if I never do anything else? And, let's be honest, that has every chance of happening. Just about everything in my life has tended to end in unrepentant failure. So, what if I do this, and then nothing else ever happens to me. What if I die? How embarrassing! A lasting digital monument to my lifelong mediocrity. Excellent.

Am I making too big a deal out of this? Possibly.

No joke.

I first started to plan and script my own film version of The Hobbit when I was ten years old. If New Line Cinema can't get their act together, don't worry about it. I'll get around to it eventually.

I'm totally serious.

In related news, it seems that I have geek-reverted to LOTR.

My mother thinks she is socially progressive.

Then I get to hear gems like the one last night, where she said that AIDS research only gets the funding it does because of the gays.

And then I spend half an hour trying to locate all the pieces of my exploded brain.

That's hilarious.

First, Jason Dohring gets to be Spike on Veronica Mars, now he gets to be Spike on an actual Angel rip-off.

... I'm totally going to watch this show, guys. It has my screen-crush Sophia Myles in it, and, seriously, it's about vampires. If something's about vampires, I'm probably going to wind up watching it. I'm not saying that I'll like it, or that it will even be any good, but, honestly? I'm going to end up watching it.

I was listening to a lot of Bon Jovi last night.

So, now I'm going to do that thing where a lot of stuff has actually happened to me recently, but I'm not going to talk about it. Instead! Here are some quiz results that will amuse only Jenny, when she eventually reads this.

You Are 69% New Jersey!

You are definitely Jersey. Well done, my friend. You are most likely from this great state, and you fit right in. Odds are, you love being Jersey!

How New Jersey Are You?
Make Your Own Quiz

You Are 87% North Jersey

You are totally North Jersey! You really know the area and have Jersey pride. Chances are you just got back from being down the shore! Unless you're taking this test in wintertime in which case you just got back from Christmas shopping in Paramus. Unless it's Sunday, in which case... Hey how come I didn't see you in church today? =P

The Ultimate North Jersey Quiz
Create Your Own Quiz

You are 56% Southern Jerseyan

Just because you moved here full time doesn't make you a local. No matter how hard you try you'll never truly be Southern Jerseyan so I would not abandon those Pennsylvania, New York, or Northern Jersey roots. Cause we can tell.

South Jersey Quiz

Bwah!! Seriously, guys, I really don't care about the Major Deegan.

The Potter is dead*, long live the Potter.

*Not a Spoiler. Talkin' about the book series.

So, naturally, now that Harry Potter is finished, I've come up against a dilemma: What the hell am I supposed to talk about now? Certainly not anything that's actually happening in my life because, honestly, there's not a thing going on with me right now that would make me glad to write about it. Then I decided, you know what? I'm still going to talk about Harry Potter. Or at least ancillary cultural curios having to do with Harry Potter.

I'm going to talk about wizard rock again.

You may or may not recall my original entry on this subject. If you don't, then it obviously didn't do anything for you, so I won't make you read it again. You should read this, though; it's good. In that entry, I noted one wizard rock band (or artist or what have you), and I gave him a bit of a short shrift. This band is the Remus Lupins. My position on him/them has evolved, particularly in the last few days, so, if I may: A Review.

Now, if you're a fan of wizard rock (and I actually don't think anyone reading this is, except maybe kinda the Spish), there's one thing that it's hard to ignore sometimes: it's not really very good. Usually. There's a lot of reasons to like it, mostly, sentimentality over the subject, an admiration for a grass-roots musical approach, and the fact that, sometimes, you're a total dork and you don't care who knows it. In terms of your usual rigorous, High-Fidelity-style appraisal of music goes, however, no. It falls short. On the plus side, the last CD Harry and the Potters put out is so good you can pretty much ignore the two that came out before it. On the down side, most of these people can't really sing, they're appalling lyricists, and the production quality is low. Even when the participants are talented and clever, like my favorites The Moaning Myrtles, the quality of their best recording can put you in mind of listening to someone's high school talent show entry.

The Remus Lupins, an outfit that usually consists entirely of one fellow, Alex Carpenter, is the exception. Please watch carefully as I draw him in with one arm and backhand him with the other. (Wizard rock gets most of its support from the MySpace community, of which I am happy to say that I am not a part. This, I think, allows me to feel hardly any guilt when I'm bitchy where I feel it's due.) From his various writings and YouTube cameos, I get the impression that Mr. Carpenter is one smarmy, unctuous motherfucker. He seems to exude a big-fish-in-a-small-pond complacency that can only, by default, betray hastily concealed insecurities. This is probably borne of his growing up in LA. (Sorry.) Despite this, I really rather like him. Mostly, because his music is damn good. At least, his Harry Potter music is. I sought out some of his non-magical original compositions, and boy are they. Meandering quasi-poetic treatises set to non-commital arrangements about how he can't catch a break with girls. Yikes. But in Harry Potter, he seems to have found his muse. The samples available at various online venues were good enough that I decided I wanted to fork over more cash than was necessary to buy his two CDs. (I say more than necessary because I accidentally bought one that was shipped to my Rutgers mailbox. Oh well. I hope whoever gets it likes it, though my hopes of that are low. Fucking Rutgers.)

The first one, Spells From A Broken Wand, was basically a scam. There is a handful of really good songs, but all of them can be heard on the 'net. The best parts are in the advertisement. All the rest exist along a continuum of suck. Disappointing! Although the Hollywood shines through again in the highly attractive packaging of both CDs. Besides the fact that the front insert is a little skint, I would defy anyone to claim that the artsy photos and high-quality printing isn't as good as the quality you would find on more mass-produced albums.

It was with some ambivalence, then, that I settled in to listen to the second effort, I Was A Teenage Werewolf. I am so glad I did. Not only is there not a single song that sucks on the whole album, but every single song is good. This is doubly impressive considering that the CD offers up 19 tracks. And let's be clear, when I say "good" I don't mean "good for what it is" I mean, "real, actual, I-wouldn't-be-embarrassed-to-tell-my-friends-about-this, good music good." The greatest strength of this album and this artist is that it sounds like real music. It is real music.

It starts with the sweet and catchy throw-back called "Wizard Rock Twist." Sounds just like what it is. Well it starts in the morning when you get out of bed/And take a look in the Mirror of Erised/It's clear as day/That your true desire's/To do the twist. It ends with "The Marauders' Map" a quick closer that feels almost like a bonus track. There's really only one line, but you already know what it is, so if you're anything like me it'll be hard to stop yourself from singing along almost immediately. In between, with only a few slight missteps, there's wall-to-wall excellence. Naturally, some songs are better than others. A decent number of them are fantastic. There's not one I wouldn't want to hear again, and that's better than I can say for almost every artist I listen to who wasn't planning reunion tours by the time I was born.

A stand-out, for me, is the song "Proud." The most ambitious offering, at just under five minutes, it's the longest by far on the CD. Slow and steady, it never overstays its welcome, earning every second. It's also notable because it's something of a string-puller. Most wizard rock tends to be humorous or at least somewhat winking. It tends to be helpful, when you're penning mediocre compositions about The Boy Who Lived, to have some self-awareness of what you're doing. When the songs try for earnest and touching, which they eventually must, they wind up sounding corny. They are. It'll take all your affection for the genre to look past that. Not here, though. In another pleasant surprise, Mr. Carpenter has managed to craft a truly poignant and affecting song. It's my favorite.

If I normally recommend music to you and you like listening to good music, I recommend this album.