Can't sleep, and am trying to cut down on artificial sleep aids, so here I am at 3:19 in the morning. I spent all night reading some heavy crap-- Roland Barthes on semiotics, some of which is great, some of which is so f'ing dense! Then I read half of The Scarlet Letter, which I do not know how i have come to this point in my life and literary career without having read before. I love this book. I can tell it's going in my all time favorites list, maybe even top ten. It feels very much like Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis - so perfect in its psychological pictures in these people, and of course, some of which, I am so familiar with. I'm freaking crying through the whole novel, the useless guilt, the way people destroy themselves for nothing. And the beams of hope, and freaking awesome little Pearl jumping around like an elf, literally dancing on graves!
I've also recently read Hawthorne's Blithedale Romance and House of Seven Gables (I read them first), and they are so, so, so much LESS engaging than this first one. Some of his short stories have always stuck with me, most notably "Young Goodman Brown," but in The Scarlet Letter he was really able to do something extraordinary, truely amazing.
And so many other things going on, and I feel like a confessional poet in the middle of the night, bare my soul right down beyond the bone to the marrow, all the things I would trot out and line up in this public sphere. I just feel raw lately, like everything that happens in the day affects me so hard. There are these moments of clarity, wicked clarity, followed later by the dull, thudding sadness. I've been so godawful tired too lately with more bodily responsibilties and taking more care of the beautiful Joseph, my own beam of sunshine, perfection, wonderfulness, cuddlyness, wrapped-up-in-skin-amazingness. But tiring, and then the mountain of my own making of academic to-do's. Trying to be a person, really alive, every day, fresh, shaking off the molds of stagnation, expanding to understand all the knowledge and wonders I can't even comprehend today, the world is so fucking big and mind-blowing, and my small experience with ideas so limited. Today especially, I was just bowed over in awe and wonderment--there is so much to learn! so many amazing ideas that I haven't even encountered but are out there waiting. And all of these thoughts and intensities toss me back and forth between exhilaration and exhaustion.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Kerouac, joy, sadness, then joy again
What a strange, long, complex, filled up day. It started to early in an Ambien haze that still couldn't get me to sleep, me wandering around, shapes-shifting, on too few hours of sleep my necessary fuel, with all these impossible tasks banging at the door needing to be finished, a scholarly article and another abstract for another paper that I only dreamed up four days ago, due now, and all my straining at the bit, and my crap ass body that has just jumped ship on me lately, dragging around these leaden bones, and somehow, in a strange turn of events that never usually happens, I finished everything that needed finishing.
Picked up Joseph since D had class all night, already exhausted, but Joseph and me still had this lovely little evening together, eating pita chips and this to-die-for hummas, then eating broccoli and hummas till the whole little container was used up, used broccoli to wipe up the last little bits, me and him on the couch, munching down, watching Mythbusters. But ramping up the discipline too b/c he's been a little butt lately, and drinking a beer while he wailed his head off in time-out, then snuggling close again and doing I Spy before bed.
Then reading poor sad Jack Kerouac, bearing down on me hard he's so sad, watching him spiral down in Big Sur, but he's such a damn good writer, he takes you down with him. But that's not the place I want to be. I had to stop reading, even though it's due to be read by class tomorrow. Everything to him is frightening and terrors, sinister hills and mad drinking binges making his nightmarish images all worse. And then so much death, and this class has gotten kind of all conflated in my mind and emotions with this girl who killed herself midway through the semester. Sort of I feel like it's not even my right, my place, to talk about her. I didn't know her, had only spoken to her directly a few times. A bunch of other people in the class have been in the poetry program with her for three years. And when dear old Jack sees death everywhere, in his favorite cat, an otter on the beach, a mouse because he left the lid off the rat poison--I just... and I don't have a place to talk--I've had some hard stuff, but never the death of anybody close to me, I don't know what that means, I feel sacriligious like an outsider in a class full of grievers, but then I think about her a lot too. Alive, then not. It's something I can't wrap my head around.
Sad Jack, I can't bear you right now. I know there's a time for entering down into other people's sadnesses and the art too, but I've built my life around acknowledging grim reality while still building up a structure of meaning to raise my head up out and manage to tread water. Happiness. Positives. Comfort. John Green, a YA author I love, I came across a quote of his today, watching a videologue he'd done: the idea "that true love will triumph in the end, which may or may not be true, but if it’s a lie, it’s the most beautiful lie we have.”
Picked up Joseph since D had class all night, already exhausted, but Joseph and me still had this lovely little evening together, eating pita chips and this to-die-for hummas, then eating broccoli and hummas till the whole little container was used up, used broccoli to wipe up the last little bits, me and him on the couch, munching down, watching Mythbusters. But ramping up the discipline too b/c he's been a little butt lately, and drinking a beer while he wailed his head off in time-out, then snuggling close again and doing I Spy before bed.
Then reading poor sad Jack Kerouac, bearing down on me hard he's so sad, watching him spiral down in Big Sur, but he's such a damn good writer, he takes you down with him. But that's not the place I want to be. I had to stop reading, even though it's due to be read by class tomorrow. Everything to him is frightening and terrors, sinister hills and mad drinking binges making his nightmarish images all worse. And then so much death, and this class has gotten kind of all conflated in my mind and emotions with this girl who killed herself midway through the semester. Sort of I feel like it's not even my right, my place, to talk about her. I didn't know her, had only spoken to her directly a few times. A bunch of other people in the class have been in the poetry program with her for three years. And when dear old Jack sees death everywhere, in his favorite cat, an otter on the beach, a mouse because he left the lid off the rat poison--I just... and I don't have a place to talk--I've had some hard stuff, but never the death of anybody close to me, I don't know what that means, I feel sacriligious like an outsider in a class full of grievers, but then I think about her a lot too. Alive, then not. It's something I can't wrap my head around.
Sad Jack, I can't bear you right now. I know there's a time for entering down into other people's sadnesses and the art too, but I've built my life around acknowledging grim reality while still building up a structure of meaning to raise my head up out and manage to tread water. Happiness. Positives. Comfort. John Green, a YA author I love, I came across a quote of his today, watching a videologue he'd done: the idea "that true love will triumph in the end, which may or may not be true, but if it’s a lie, it’s the most beautiful lie we have.”
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Book Signing - Claudia Gray
I went and saw the lovely Claudia Gray tonight at BookPeople in Austin (she's a fun young adult author, for those of you out of the YA loop). Yes, she writes about vampires, but she does so more intelligently than others. Good plot and characters.
I love going to author readings, meeting them, getting to see a little of thier personality, ask them questions about the book, thier road to getting an agent and publication, thier writing process. I've been to about six or seven readings now, and it's so funny to see authors who you think are somber be funny, one's you think would be charismatic seem stilted, and others just going with the flow and having fun, like she was tonight. She also read really well - almost theatrically. It was a nice change from the last author I heard read.
It was fun, though I was sad more people didn't show up. I always want authors I like to do well, like I become emotionally invested in thier success! Book signed, to be read maybe this weekend. And now I'm off to sleep before my big day tomorrow (getting new tattoo! half-sleeve!).
I love going to author readings, meeting them, getting to see a little of thier personality, ask them questions about the book, thier road to getting an agent and publication, thier writing process. I've been to about six or seven readings now, and it's so funny to see authors who you think are somber be funny, one's you think would be charismatic seem stilted, and others just going with the flow and having fun, like she was tonight. She also read really well - almost theatrically. It was a nice change from the last author I heard read.
It was fun, though I was sad more people didn't show up. I always want authors I like to do well, like I become emotionally invested in thier success! Book signed, to be read maybe this weekend. And now I'm off to sleep before my big day tomorrow (getting new tattoo! half-sleeve!).
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Heather is alive again! And hence, not sleeping
Yeah, remember when I said a few posts back that insomnia was a good thing? F*%k that. Insomnia is the devil, pure and simple. So yes, I don't have insomnia as much when life is crappy and I'm living unconsciously and not very excited about waking up the next day. But when I'm back to my normal self, like now, I can't wait for the night to be over because I'm so frickin excited about all the things I want to do tomorrow. All these new ideas relating to literary theory are burning through my brain, dialogue for the story I want to get back to working on since it's spring break and I can have some head-space to write, but then also thinking I should get started on research for the term papers in my two classes, but then screw that, I want to write!
Turning on the light and writing down stray thoughts for research papers and story ideas. In the dark laying in bed, the brain just tick tocks back and forth between them, while usually I feel like the academic and the creative parts of my life are so disparate. Here in the silence space, I flip-flop back and forth, then think about the book I was reading, then about my in-laws leaving in a couple days, then how much I freaking love my amazing son, etcetera, etcetera ad nauseam.
Oh, and blog thoughts ;)
So, yay, ra, I'm a thinking, passionate about my projects human again. But damn, is this laying in bed for hours each night freaking worth it?! Ok. Rant over. Now that I've let some spillage seep out via 3 a.m. blogging, let's see about trying to actually SLEEP!
Turning on the light and writing down stray thoughts for research papers and story ideas. In the dark laying in bed, the brain just tick tocks back and forth between them, while usually I feel like the academic and the creative parts of my life are so disparate. Here in the silence space, I flip-flop back and forth, then think about the book I was reading, then about my in-laws leaving in a couple days, then how much I freaking love my amazing son, etcetera, etcetera ad nauseam.
Oh, and blog thoughts ;)
So, yay, ra, I'm a thinking, passionate about my projects human again. But damn, is this laying in bed for hours each night freaking worth it?! Ok. Rant over. Now that I've let some spillage seep out via 3 a.m. blogging, let's see about trying to actually SLEEP!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Jowls
I need to be sleeping, but instead I'm blogging. I feel revived after road-tripping like a teenager with the hubster (kid left with in-laws). I felt young and free, but kind of old at the same time, like when I look in the mirror and see new lines and saggy places and think eek! adult is written on my face now. There's no escaping it - soon will come saggy jowls and southward pointing boobs and wierd hangy neck skin. I've seen pictures of the women in my dad's family (who I favor in looks) as they age, and all of them grew to be ugly women. They were stout and jowl-y.
That's all I got. I was gonna try to expand on some of the thoughts I've been having lately, and some really interesting things brought up by conversations with friends, but I'm brain-fried from thinking through deconstructionist philosophy all day. Time for bed.
That's all I got. I was gonna try to expand on some of the thoughts I've been having lately, and some really interesting things brought up by conversations with friends, but I'm brain-fried from thinking through deconstructionist philosophy all day. Time for bed.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Painting Again
So, I haven't touched my painting of "The Storm" (which my great-grandmother had painted a reproduction of, and I'd always loved staring at as a kid) since 2007. It's been sitting around gathering dust with the two figurines briefly painted out in blocks. Until a few days ago, when I decided I needed a project to distract me until classes start this week. So here's about where I left off two years ago:
And here's where I've gotten in the past few days. I figure, if I get thier faces done, I'll be inspired to finish up the rest and get it finished. 
His face is still wonky, but I'm too tired to fix it tonight.
And here's where I've gotten in the past few days. I figure, if I get thier faces done, I'll be inspired to finish up the rest and get it finished. His face is still wonky, but I'm too tired to fix it tonight.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Heather's Best Reads of 2009
Okay, I officially need to get the hell out of my own head and stop overanalyzing things to death. SO! The post about my best reads of 2009! that I've been planning on writing since about August =) Beware, these are almost all young adult titles. I'm a giant nerd, and I keep a spreadsheet of all the books I read. I know this is extreme nerd behavior, and I wish there were adult merit badges, because that's the giddy sense of glee and accomplishment I felt everytime I added a book to the list. I read 133 books last year, and I'm pretty sure that's an all time high, except for maybe somewhere in seventh and eighth grade where I was an antisocial acne-covered hermit. Ahem. I digress. To the list!
THE FOREST OF HANDS AND TEETH (I knew I was going to love this book right when I read the title. I think this is my vote for Best Title of the Year. It's about a zombie postapacolyptic future. I don't love the zombie genre, but I loved this. In a year of fluff books, this one stuck in my mind. I like the cover too =)
GRACELING & FIRE by Kristin Cashore These are two separate novels, only loosely connected, and the best damn books I read this year. They are high fantasy, which is not popular, but the characterization, themes, intelligence--I seriously can't say enough about how much I loved these books. Crappy covers though! Why coudln't they get better covers??? The UK cover for each book is a million times better.
WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson - there is no more lyrical YA writer of this generation. This is a book about girls with eating disorders. And it is the most beautifully written (as in, the poetry of language) book I read all year. Her book SPEAK is also one of my all time favorites.
WAKE & FADE by Lisa McMann - Two books in three book series, I think, and a fabulous read. As far as sit down and read in one sitting, good writing, exciting stories--these two books are tops. Grounded in gritty reality with supernatural elements and sexy love. Good covers too. I'm excited to read the last book that comes out this Feb!
PERFECT CHEMISTRY by Simone Elkeles - as far as straight, great hot sexy, teen love stories, I'd say this is the best and hottest I've come across. It's a lot smarter than it looks, with a Romeo & Juliet theme about two people from different worlds attracted to each other. Lots of good characterization, and my favorite element of all: melodrama. Cover, eh, okay. Oh, and I also read LEAVING PARADISE by her, and I really, really enjoyed it too.
SHIVER by Maggie Stiefvater - Okay, I almost bought this book for its cover alone. Then I read the flap - human/werewolf love melodrama. Oh yeah, ch-ching, and I was walking out the door with it. There's a lot of crap in the YA supernatural themed department. I'd know - I've read a ton of it! But this was intelligent, good writing, good story. I'm looking forward to the sequel out next year.
THIRTEEN REASONS WHY by Jay Asher - This book I'd heard a lot about before I read and was skeptical of. Girl leaves tapes after suicide, hence the titular "reasons why". I don't know - it sounded kitschy and over-sentimental. Turns out I was totally wrong. It was amazing - a story that has stayed with me and stuck out in my mind. Fabulous story, great narration by teenaged male protagonist, very real feeling characters, another thing that's often off in YA lit. It was great. If the time-line aspect of it bothered me a bit, the rest made up for it. I'm not a fan of the cover.
Has it become aparent yet that I ALWAYS JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER?!?!
So here are some where that bit me in the ass. In the category of Best Cover That Seemed So Promising And Stuck In My Mind So Much That I Bought An Illicit Advanced Read Copy Off Ebay:
Isn't it beautiful?! Doesn't it tell you exactly what kind of book it is and make you want to snap it up and salivate over the story late into the night?!? Tragically, the insides didn't live up. The male love interest (i.e. cover fallen angel dude) is a bastard, creepier than Edward from Twilight with the stalking and the almost killing the wimpy female protagonist.
Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system, let's move on.
THE ADORATION OF JENNA FOX by Mary Pearson - again with the Fabulous Title. The cover drew me (at least for the hardcover, they just released a softcover version with different cover, and I think it's total crap compared to the first one. I'll post both below). Anyway - great storytelling, fabulous idea, slight dystopia which I always love. It stuck with me.
but then, I really don't like white backgrounds on book covers. My preference: Black, simple concept covers, and matte, NOT glossy.
THE DARK DIVINE by Bree Despain. Another of my very few good finds for urban fantasy YA, which is the uber trend now, but rarely done well. I was drawn in by the cover, hooked by the flap. I liked the characters who didn't feel weakly drawn. Good story.
And now for my other big discovery of the year: Terry Goodkind and the SWORD OF TRUTH Series. I read all eleven books, but the first is still my favorite.
WIZARD'S FIRST RULE - I only read these because of how much I LOVE the show Legend of the Seeker in all of it's fantasy melodrama deliciousness. Usually I can't stomach male fantasy writers - it's all battles and crap with no sexy love. Goodkind amazes me with balancing both. I mean, everything about Wizard's First Rule (other than what I consider a dumb title) is absolutely flabergasting. This guy seriously affectected the way I think about writing, good storytelling, strong noble characters, beauty, and the surprising ability to keep the same characters interesting for the duration of a 11 book series, which I've never encountered before. Unfortunatly at the same time, some of the later books did get a little preachy with his obvious love for Ayn Rand's objectivist philosophy, but just when I thought I'd throw in the towel, the next book in the series would blow me away again. But I'm still grumpy about what I consider a crap last book - I was fine with the ending for my beloved characters, but it meandered and wasted so much time without giving the proper page space to character's I'd grown close to and spent useless time on dumb shit. But I digress. Best books of the series, Books 1, 6, 9, 10
I still think about these characters and re-read portions from the books. That's how much I heart them.
And to finish off a post that's probably already too long, here's some more books I'll put in the category:
DON'T BE FOOLED BY THIER COVERS! i.e., they weren't nearly as good as I'd hoped they'd be. Beautiful Creatures was the best, but just didn't live up to the too high expectations I had before reading it.
Happy Reading in 2010!
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