Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Oryx and Crake

When did the body first set out on its own adventures? Snowman thinks; after having ditched its old travelling companions, the mind and the soul, for whom it had once been considered a mere corrupt vessel or else a puppet acting out their dramas for them, or else bad company, leading the other two astray. It must have got tired of the soul's constant nagging and whining and the anxiety-driven intellectual web-spinning of the mind, distracting it whenever it was getting its teeth into something juicy or its fingers into something good. It had dumped the other two back there somewhere, leaving them stranded in some damp sanctuary or stuffy lecture hall while it made a beeline for the topless bars, and it had dumped culture along with them: music and painting and poetry and plays. Sublimation, all of it; nothing but sublimation, according to the body. Why not cut to the chase?

But the body had its own cultural forms. It had its own art. Executions were its tragedies, pornography was its romance. 

-- Margaret Atwood Oryx and Crake

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Let's Pretend This Did Happen

Caution: Fan-girling Ahead

I've been a fan of The Bloggess (aka Jenny Lawson) for a while. Ever since she posted about Beyonce (did you know that Beyonce doesn't trigger the spellcheck? That's how you know you made it. Unfortunately  "Bloggess" is not recognized. Work on this Google.).

Because, in case you really haven't know me for more than a week, I have conversations like this every day of my life. And truly, I'm surprised that my friend Jen and didn't already buy a giant metal chicken for our dorm room because we totally knew a place that sold them. So basically, Jenny Lawson stole our idea before we actually had it.

When I heard her book was coming out (Jenny Lawson's not Jen's. Jen doesn't have a book yet) I squeeed. And when I got my hands on an ARC because working at a bookstore does have some awesome perks, I jumped for joy. And really squeeed. A lot. Then I read it. And then I reviewed it and actually got more people to read the book because of it. WOOHOO.

So last week I got to meet her at the Paramus Barnes&Noble book signing. Now, I really didn't know what to expect. But she made me happier in person. And also spurred me to write about my bipolar story sooner rather than later. (It's a work in progress)

She loved my Sandman inspired tattoo. And my Friendship is Magic/Doctor Who shirt. And I gave her a Doctor Who blind bag thing that had "small balls." I took a bad picture of it.

You can't see it, but it does have small balls.

And she's following me on twitter. I got really excited over that. It's like I'm one step away from being vaguely internet famous. Not that she doesn't follow a thousand other people, but whatevers. 

And I also am convinced that cannot be a good posed picture of me. Like ever. 
Ugh. Crooked glasses! So not photogenic. (I'm on the left. Ms Lawson is the photogenic one)

So I guess the moral of the story is practice posing for pictures. And get my glasses fixed. And maybe exercise. 

Oh, and if you haven't yet. Read her damned book. It's in paperback now. You have no excuse.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Honest Truth

There are times: days, weeks.
Where all I can think about is how everyone I know will die.

So I crawl into bed while Jack is asleep and cry against his back until I pass out.
And during the day, while reading or on the computer, or even at work, I wonder "why am I doing any of this?"

I get paralyzed by the fact that I could lose Jack (or anyone in my family really) at any second.