So everybody's doing Top Ten Whatevers. Here are ten things.
Also I have the flu and this is Day 18 and I have consumed A LOT of cold medicine and pain medicine and ice cream and pistachios.
2014TOPTEN
10
This buffalo. You want to get on it now. Too bad. None of us are getting on it.
9
This amazeballs diving suit.
WTF is wrong with me in this picture. It's like I'm dying but also enjoying getting abducted by aliens.
8
That time I thought there were going to be dinosaurs and it was a Park & Ride.
LIES.
7A
Two cats in a hamper.
7B
This sexy other cat.
6
This pumpkin my uncle carved to look like one of the Despicable Me minions.
5
These hellbeasts.
4
This hot guy at Pizza Hut.
3
TIE between this rubber frog with one eye and this lovely Easter bonnet.
2
The Dragon Wagon.
1
This hole that I had to climb into. SPOILER: Spiders.
[You guys! Today I'm so excited to bring you a guest post by fabulous writer Carol Brendler!! I learned SO MUCH from this list . . .]
Writers sometimes joke that if the FBI ever seized their computers to examine them for evidence, digging up their browser searches alone would suggest that we have very troubled minds and habits. It's true that our research sometimes leads us into strange territory, and we writers tend to have our own idiosyncrasies as well. Hence, I present to you the following:
Things I Wouldn't Know About Had I Not Become a Writer
1. Pangolins.
2. The song sparrow's spring song sounds kind of like "Madge, Madge, put on the teakettle-ettle." Listen here.
3. Googly eyes do not stick very well to a butternut squash.
4. Morse code for S.O.S. is . . . - - - . . . Please make a note of it.
5. Linsey-woolsey is a fabric woven from linen and wool. (Duh, right?)
6. The letter U in Cyrillic looks suspiciously similar to our letter Y. Hmm.
7. Egg creams contain neither eggs nor cream.
8. Kraken is pronounced KRAW-kn. Rhymes with walkin'. Can also be pronounced to rhyme with fakin'.
9. Pilot Precise ink pens are superior to all other writing implements on the market.
10. Actress Norma Shearer had a lazy eye.
11. There was once a menagerie worker in a certain circus who had the unfortunate job of having to manually stimulate the female tigers over and over again whenever they went into heat.
12. Saddle shoes were introduced in the early 1900s as athletic shoes to be used primarily for tennis.
13. Earthworms are edible and chock full of protein. There are recipes.
14. That phenomenon where people think they see the Virgin Mary or Jesus' image in a grilled cheese sandwich or a concrete stain under an overpass is called asimulacrum.
15. Steam engines are a little scary to drive.
16. Lest you think dating ads are a recent development, please note this "want ad" I found from TheEveningStar (Washington, D.C.) of August 2, 1879:
17. Pink fairy armadillos can be found only in a small region of Argentina. Or more likely, they cannot be found, since the vole-sized creatures will disappear into their holes whenever they feel nervous. Also, they are nocturnal and their tunnels are quite well hidden. Because they are so elusive, their official threat status is currently listed as "data deficient."
18. Willie and Tad Lincoln once put on a circus/minstrel show in the attic of the White House and insisted that any available soldiers, gardeners, and servants attend. Admittance was five cents, and Willie wore one of his mother's satin gowns as a costume (without asking).
19. A baby llama is known as a cria. Another acceptable term would be baby llama.
Good thing I became a writer. Now, you. What sorts of trivia have you uncovered whilst doing research?
Carol Brendler is the author of the young adult novel RADIO GIRL (Holiday House) September 5, 2013. Coming summer, 2014: A picture book, NOT VERY SCARY, illustrated by Greg Pizzoli, from FSG. Also by Carol Brendler: WINNIE FINN, WORM FARMER (FSG, 2009) a picture book illustrated by Ard Hoyt.
Holy cats, internet friends, I am now Officially Official on the MacMillan/St. Martin's Press site. No, really, look here.
Mindset has quickly gone from Woo-hoo! to PANIC! PANIC!
Like, what if people click the Officially Official links to find out what I'm like? And what if they then find out what I'm like?
This is literally the only thing I accomplished yesterday.
OK, OK. Here are some reasons why I am a Grown-Up, Professional person worthy of Note and not a pajama-clad cat whisperer worthy of scorn and contempt.
Exhibit A: This recent holiday post over at EMUs Debuts, in which I discuss FREAKING ULYSSES. That's right. Me and Joyce's great modern novel, wobbling brains in unison. So scholarly.
You'll note I had to do extensive Wikipedia research in order to know what to put in the yellow box.
Exhibit B:
I have recently begun participating in blog interviews to promote my upcoming novel. I have answered questions in a measured and professional manner, and not one interview contains the phrase, "Mass Effect 3."
Come say hi! Because srsly, it makes me feel like rainbows and glitter ponies and marshmallow gumdrop potatoes when people leave comments. Even if the comment is, "You suck." Well, maybe not then. Unless there was, like, a funny picture with it or something. Like a glitter marshmallow pony wearing a t-shirt that says, "You suck." That would be okay, I guess.
Oh, friends. I've been wrtigng. I'm not fixing that spelling because that's how it cmae out. Jeebers, maybe I should fix some of this spelling. Who says jeebers?? I've been working on my next novel.
Also I made this picture.
There were spiders born in my bathroom today. So . . . yay?
My contract. Hahaha!
No, srsly, that's my actual contract.
So, you know, feel free to click on over and give it the eyeball. Or if you fear uncharted waters and would prefer to stay here where it's safe, here are some random photos from my phone to entertain you (also, stop going through my garbage):
A picture of the word "condiments" on a menu that I sent to my friend Lauren who hates condiments.
Rainbow pegasus unicorn I drew that has recently surfaced at my grandmother's house.
A picture sent to me by my parents of warm cookies they were about to enjoy while I was in another state subsisting on cafeteria food.
Chico
My grandmother's red markered glee that she beat me at Farkle. Surprise!
I'm sorry, internet friends. That title is a little hostile. And it's also a lie. I did have six jobs this summer, which was exactly as insane as it sounds, but now I am down to two. The truth is, I am a bit frustrated at how neglected this blog has been lately, because everyone knows that every time a blogger you've never heard of posts a picture of her head pasted onto a bowl of cereal, an angel gets his wings.
And look at what I was planning! The epic post that never was! I have no idea what any of those promises I made in my last post mean. All I can do is cobble together my idea of what a Paul the Psychic Octopus might look like:
SEE? I DID ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING TODAY, MR. WHISKERS. STOP JUDGING.
The long and short is that I got picked up by an agent, and now I have a two-book deal, which has kind of been running my creative life for a while.
http://cdn.cutestpaw.com
Take that cat picture. It's not even my cat. And why is it there? I envisioned it being my little kitty cheerleader, like YAY! BOOK DEAL! But the longer you stare at it the more manic it looks. Now it's kind of freaking me out.
"I'm so proud of you, I could poke your eyes out with toothpicks and suck on them like lollipops! LOL!"
Anyway, I'm in the midst of revisions and stuff. Like, literally, manuscript 3.0 is printing and I've got highlighters on deck, just like a Real Writer. HIGHLIGHTERS.
Will keep you posted.
THAT WAS A PUN.
And if you're interested in more of my rantings, head over to EMU's Debuts and peruse my debut post. I tried so hard to be more coherent than usual, and somehow still ended up pasting my head onto stuff.
As I work on my next post, in which I have, like, actual stuff to say about words, I thought I would fill you in on the heroic life I have been leading this month. First off, yes, I used the word indefatigability in the title of this post.That in itself is inspiring, even though I got it from the Thesaurus under "perseverance," which I spelled wrong. You're welcome.
I got so much stuff done this month. I did a bunch of freelance editing. I designed some ads for clients. I went through my fonts, and you should know that I have amassed awesome fonts. Don't even talk to me unless you have the Thundercats font, and we'll start from there.
I took this picture of my cat, Bert. I Gordon, who just sneezed cat boogers all over me as I typed that.
It kind of looks like he has five legs.
Then I got plague, which my body decided to fight by coughing up everything inside itself, including what I believe were a couple major organs and possibly a femur. And because comedy is everything, my body decreed that this process would be accompanied by the whimsical call of the Canada Goose, emanating from my ravaged esophagus. But fear not, dear ones -- because of half a bottle of Ny-Quil my indomitable spirit, I realized that, instead of being diseased, I was actually being enhanced.
I was being granted the powers of the Canada Goose.
Ah, the majesty.
Then Goose Plague and I went to the city to sing the Beethoven Missa Solemnis at a copyrighted location I like to refer to as "Flarnegie Hall."
It was kind of a weird couple days.
We sang in the back row of the chorus, right on top of the enormous speakers for the organ.
WE HEARD A LOT OF ORGAN.
Then home again, jiggity jig, at which point I decided to play Mass Effect 3 broker world peace, which I think we can all agree is working out nicely.
My latest triumph in the face of adversity has been dusting off my bootstraps, or whatever the young people are saying nowadays, after possibly having been rejected by my favorite blog.
That's right. I submitted a portrait to Nic Cage As Everyone, and it has yet to appear. In fact, I have yet to even receive a response to my inspiring email: "This is Nic Cage as a molecule of adamantane."
And yet, my friends, we persevere! We indefatigate! We suffer the honks and arrows of outrageous organs!
I'm so proud that, not only is this Bad(ass) Review vintage and therefore more valuable, it comes from a member of my very own family. A lot of the family books have been coming to us lately from my grandmother, who is now only into reading the jokes in old Readers' Digests (which is exactly where I plan to be at 80). Among the Balzacs was this:
Run! Run while you still can!
The Yearling, as you know, is Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings' 1938 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about HE SHOOTS THE DEER. For some reason, I decided to leaf through it instead of disposing of it properly (in a lake of children's tears), and I came across the following messages from the past:
In case you can't read them, on page 210 is penciled:
"This Book is no good."
"It is to its good for birds"
And on page 211, the reviewer simply wrote:
"This is a crumby book"
Good on you, ancestors. You were truly badass reviewers.
. . . And by "Africa," of course, I mean Toto's 1982 synth-marimba rockin' hit.
According to Wikipedia, which is the only research I'll be doing for this post because screw research, Toto member Jeff Porcaro explains the song thusly: "... a white boy is trying to write a song on Africa, but since he's never been there, he can only tell what he's seen on TV or remembers in the past."
I'm sorry, Toto, but you can't fool us with your fancy words and pretentious analysis. This isn't Harvard, it's America, and we can read between the lines.
Why would Toto write a song about werewolves? Theories exist, but that's a topic for another discussion.
That bearded guy in the middle clearly has an agenda. You can't hide forever.
For the skeptics, let's go through the lyrics together. (We don't need to look at the music as it pretty much speaks for itself, starting with the fact that the song is in A major -- the go-to key for the werewolf subculture.)
I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
OK, these first lines of text are incredibly rich, but let's just touch on a couple things. The first line establishes the song's nocturnal theme, immediately giving it a supernatural -- and, specifically, lycanthropian -- flavor, and the call to action, represented by the drums. In a deeper analysis, drums, which are created from the stretched skin of animals, are also an allusion to the belief that wearing the skin of a wolf can cause one to become afflicted with the werewolf curse.
The isolation the protagonist feels is also illustrated beautifully here with the clear psychological separation between himself and the unnamed female character, who represents both the main character's personal relationships and humanity in general. What's especially intriguing is that, whatever this "quiet conversation" concerns, the female character herself is not fully aware of it -- creating even more distance between the main character and the conversation. And what is the conversation about? One can only speculate. Repressed guilt? Fear of exposure? Loneliness?
And, of course, the fact that the main character can hear the drums but his female companion cannot is an overt reference to werewolves' superhuman senses, while simultaneously raising the question, "Do these drums exist in reality or merely in the werewolf's mind?"
"Anatomy is destiny." -- Sigmund Freud
She's coming in 12:30 flight
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
Here we have a direct reference to moonlight, the catalyst for the werewolf's monthly transformation, but it is juxtaposed with the idea of "salvation." In all likelihood, this is a reference to the medieval belief that exorcism or conversion to Christianity was a remedy for the werewolf curse, although it could just be a broader expression of the prospect of being cured.
What I find particularly fascinating about this passage is what is possibly the introduction of a second unnamed female character, one who has not yet arrived but whose arrival is imminent. She could be the character from the second line, but if that is the case, the werewolf is somehow able to understand what she is experiencing without being in close proximity to her.
Either way, she is a paradoxical image here; if we are to continue with our focus on Christianity, this woman clearly has angelic qualities, namely her "moonlit wings." However, these wings are reflecting the starlight that would guide the werewolf to his salvation. The question here obviously becomes, "Is this reflecting serving to augment the stars' guiding light, or to distort it?"
Scholars have made the argument that this second female character is indeed a benevolent force, as evidenced by the second occurrence of the line ". . . it's waiting there for you," in which the word "it's" is changed to "she's," indicating the angel will at last have led the werewolf to his absolution. However, history tells us the argument could be made that this is a punishing angel, and she may even be the cause of the werewolf's affliction; as St. Thomas Aquinas said, "All angels, good and bad, have the power of transmutating our bodies."
Hoping to find some old, forgotten words or ancient melodies He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry, boy, it's waiting there for you."
This is one of my favorite stanzas. Here, the werewolf looks to the old man (the personification of a combination of wisdom and folklore) for assistance, in a direct reference to the idea that certain spoken words can release a werewolf from its curse. From Wikipedia: "In the German lowland of Schleswig-Holstein, a werewolf could be cured if one were to simply address it three times by its Christian name, while one Danish belief holds that simply scolding a werewolf will cure it."
The stanza ends with the old man's delightfully playful use of the term "boy" to address the protagonist, which, of course, immediately evokes a man speaking to a beloved canine.
since we ourselves are human beings." -- Albert Einstein
It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never have
This section, the chorus, is largely self-explanatory, illustrating both the werewolf's superhuman strength and the enormity of his efforts to cure himself. The first line is also a particularly lovely expression of lycanthrope duality -- the fact that man and beast, though enemies, are one being.
Personally, I am intrigued by the rain imagery here. At the surface, the rains appear to represent a healing, nourishing force, but it is my opinion that this may also be an allusion to the superstition that drinking rainwater from the footprint of an animal can give one the power to become that animal. Of course, one can overanalyze these things!
"I think we all have to fight the werewolf within us somehow." -- William Kempe
The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
My apologies in advance for the fact that these lines would be better interpreted by someone more familiar with the werewolf subculture, but here is how I understand them. "Wild dogs" is a term werewolves use to describe themselves within the community, though there is disagreement among scholars as to whether this may be applied to all lycanthropes or simply those currently in "wolf" form (in either case, it is considered disrespectful, though not explicitly offensive, for a non-werewolf to use the term). These lines are especially moving because they are the text's most vivid examples of the protagonist expressing -- albeit obliquely -- his personal anguish.
The phrase "solitary company" is perhaps the most fascinating paradox in the entire song, as the two states of being -- "solitary" and with "company" -- seem at first to be mutually exclusive. In fact, the only way this could occur would be for the "wild dog" in question to be at once an individual and two beings. So we see, these lines are possibly the strongest evidence we have that "Africa" is indeed a thinly-veiled werewolf story.
love and hate, are necessary to human existence." -- William Blake
I know that I must do what's right
Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
"Hope" has been a recurring theme in this song -- we haven't touched on it before now, but I'm sure you've noticed it as we've gone through the text. Here, at last, we have not only the culmination of the werewolf's determination to find his salvation, but a final acknowledgement of the hope and conviction that have sustained him throughout his journey.
Particularly elegant here is the comparison of Mount Kilimanjaro to Mount Olympus. It's easy to find any number of books and essays devoted exclusively to this subject, but let me highlight the main points. Firstly, comparing the two mountains instantly connects the song's actual setting to a place inextricably tied to werewolf mythology -- Ancient Greece. (While the argument could be made that, even with the comparison, one still has to make the mental leap from modern Greece to Ancient Greece, I contend that the mystical feel of the text will automatically evoke not only the era but, specifically, the mythology of the culture in most listeners.) Wikipedia cites numerous examples in Ancient Greek literature of humans becoming wolves, most notably Lycaon, who became a wolf as punishment for murder.
In a larger sense, the fact that the protagonist is reminded of Mount Olympus -- home to the gods -- shows us that he feels, at least subconsciously, a connection to the rest of humanity. After all, the gods of Olympus watch, torment, and assist man and wolf-man alike.
