The most boring people I know never change. They live in the same town all their lives. They listen to one news source. They don’t own a television and are not interested in culture of any kind. They think the same thoughts and try to fit the changing world into those thoughts. On the other hand, the most creative people I know are movers and doers. They’ve traveled widely. They’ve educated themselves. They are open to cultures, trends, and popular ideas without taking any of them as holy writ. These kinds of people are not afraid of difference and do not live in fear of the world. How do we become a creative person? Why you do it the Jocelyn Glei suggests in this post. Happy and fortuitous change, my friends.
On a lighter note, I cannot help but love this video. The idea behind makeing fruit talk by putting human faces on them is not a new idea, but this is hysterical to watch. Apologies to those who cannot see it.
Why do people go to haunted houses that others create for Halloween? Because they know it’s fake but they want to be scared witless anyway. It’s called the suspension of disbelief to get the payoff in the end. Scaring ourselves and feeling safe at the same time is a human past time. And ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night are just the ticket to help us get the adrenaline going. That’s what the new movie Paranormal Activity is all about. I know it’s fake, I love that it was made for $11,000, the couple who star in it are likable, and it delivers exactly what you think it will; a great scare after a suspenseful buildup. Don’t we all want to know what goes on in our houses while we sleep? What’s scarier than contemplating that? As for the movie, I haven’t heard audience reaction like that since I saw Carrie at the movie theater. Or even Jaws. Good stuff. I highly recommend it this Halloween.
For an English “master” I hardly ever write about literature on this blog. I’m not sure why that is really, but today will be different. Today Beatrix Potter was born in 1866 and I’m not sure what child in their adulthood right now did not read Peter Rabbit stories when they were growing up. I loved the illustrations with little rabbits wearing coats and no pants. The sneaky fox had pants but Peter rabbit didn’t and even then got his coat stuck under a wire fence trying to escape from Mr. McGregor’s garden. Her art was whimsical watercolor and Victorian cosy. It made me want to jump into the picture and talk to these creatures. The perfect adventure on a rainy afternoon. That’s what books were to me.
My childhood may have been rough but I will always remember that I got my love of reading from my mother. Our house was full of books in various types of bookcases. My favorite bookcase was one my step-father had. They were a set of what some call lawyer’s shelves, which have glass fronted doors so that you can see your books and protect them from dust. These bookcases consisted of long rows, stacked on top of each other and were wider than the usual book case today. The doors lifted upwards via a knob and slid back into the case itself so that they stayed open while you perused the titles. My mother’s tastes (as are mine today) were eclectic. Next to a series of volumes about ancient Egyptian mummification procedures and funeral practices, was a copy of James Michener’s The Bridge at Andau, an historical account of a crucial point in the ’56 uprising in Budapest, Hunagary. My father was a Hungarian refugee in 1957. Next to that was Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, a book I secretly read in Jr. High (mostly for the juicy bits at Sonny’s sister’s wedding). Next to that was an old copy of the bible; you know the kind you get for Sunday school promotion, with the red and blue toned saturated pictures of scenes from the life of Christ. Next to those were National Geographic magazines and a large book about Wildlife and Fish that my sister and I thumbed through endlessly.
When I started school, I was allowed to buy as many books as I wanted from the Weekly Reader program. This program for grade school and Jr. High children offered books at cheaper than retail prices. Back when I was in grade school, you could buy a paperback book for 50 or 75 cents. So I would buy 10 or so. When the order arrived I was thrilled to take my stack home and begin reading. I remember reading my first novel, Jenny, from one of these stacks. I do not remember the author, but it was about a girl who retreats to a natural enclave in her backyard to read, write, and daydream. I loved that book. And I’ve loved all sorts of books ever since. Maybe I should write more about them.
Oh, my goodness, this is too rich. A sampling:
And it came to pass, in the eighth year of the reign of the evil Bush the Younger (The Ignorant), when the whole land from the Arabian desert to the shores of the Great Lakes had been laid barren, that a Child appeared in the wilderness.
The Child was blessed in looks and intellect. Scion of a simple family, offspring of a miraculous union, grandson of a typical white person and an African peasant. And yea, as he grew, the Child walked in the path of righteousness, with only the occasional detour into the odd weed and a little blow.
Please don’t miss it. (Thanks to the Weekly Standard for the link)
You don’t want to be in my head, really, you just don’t. I’ve been feeling rather odd lately. I can’t sleep or eat and feel all jittery. Maybe it’s too much coffee, but I can’t seem to focus on anything. Pre-menopause perhaps? SOMETHING has clouded my brain and it’s pretty persistent. So much so that I cannot even concentrate while reading FICTION, so in the meantime, and before I get my brain going again, here’s what I’ve been reading out there in Blog-o-land. Oh and in case you were wondering what the God-o-meter has been registering…. Well exactly where it’s pointing in the picture below. Zippity do da! Nada. Nowhere to be found. Just when I was supposed to contribute to our new blog too. (I’ll post Kay, I swear!) 🙂
In the meantime here are some good reads and some good listens:
I don’t get enough literature in my life since getting out of university. Here’s a good site to keep track of poetry and what’s out there. Poetry every day, if you’re into that sort of thing.
Today is the day that I officially come out as a fat person, which is defined as anybody over 120 pounds in this day and age. Hence, why I have many of the Fatosphere’s links on my blogroll and in RSS. Here is the premier site to get started researching those who are the last bastion against the onslaught of the health police, the obesity myth crowd, plain bad information, stereotyping and all manner of hatred against those of us larger than what’s considered “normal.” “As God is my witness, I will never go hungry again.”
And shouldn’t this be a tired, old story by now? This is soooooooo yesterday’s news. I’m really, really getting sick to death of hearing how the churches have all been “feminized” and men can’t be men in some of today’s churches. I’ve said before that if that’s their problem, then men should have their own church and women should have their’s. That solves the problem nicely. That way men can teach themselves and we can do the same. Problem solved.
I’ve been obsessing about this YouTube song by Beverley Knight:
Last but not least, here is a little tidbit on Feminist Philosophers blog on Aging and Sexiness. There’s a lot to be said for older women, don’t you think?