Challenge Day 8

Remember that time when I said that I was going to do a daily writing challenge and then failed so miserably, but then kept writing based on those challenges anyway?  This is day eight.  For the record, I'm not too keen on writing this bit especially because I had no idea where the superhero post was going, and now I have to make up a back story?!  Back story is haaaaard....

Day 8: Write a prequel to that superhero.  Pre-superhero life.  Maybe their childhood.

On Electrolexi's eighteen birthday, her mother sat her down in the living room.  Electrostatic, Lexi's mother, looked like she had just swallowed a koala, and though it was fuzzy, it seemed to want to claw its way out of the woman's throat.  After the whole Iris VI fiasco a couple weeks ago, Lexi wasn't really sure what her mother had to say to her that could possibly be good.  Especially not with that face she was wearing.

"Mom, are you okay?  You look like you're going to throw up or something," Electrolexi said.  Despite it being her birthday, she was still the type of person who put the concerns of other people in front of her own.  Plus this was the woman who gave her life, and that had to count for something.

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm fine," Electrostatic replied, staring off into some space just past her daughter's head before gulping down the koala in her throat.  "But we need to talk."

"Are you...are you breaking up with me?" Electrolexi deadpanned.

"Alexandra, be serious.  This is important," her mother said, her eyebrows scrunching together in frustration.

"Okay, okay, what's this all about?"

"I have to tell you who your father is," Electrostatic blurted out.  The words sent an unintentional shock through the coffee table Electrostatic had decided to sit upon, and Electrolexi heard the piece of furniture give a little whimper.  The shock extended, of course, to Electrolexi herself, though not quite so literally.

"I, um, what?" was all that Electrolexi could really manage at that point.  "He's Superman, isn't he?!"

Electrostatic took a deep breath.  She didn't seem to be listening up until the point when Superman was mentioned, and the look that she gave Electrolexi was one that said "Come on, really?" without actually verbalizing it.

"Your father is Bad Horse."

"My father...what?  I think I heard you wrong, I could have sworn you said that he was Bad Horse."

"He is Bad Horse."

"Who the hell is Bad Horse?"

"He's...a horse.  Who's bad."

"You kinda have to give me a little more to go on than that, Mom," Electrolexi prompted.  The sinking feeling in her gut told her that whoever this Bad Horse was, he probably wasn't a cool superhero that was going to end up giving her some special superhero training when she came of age and came into her extra powers bestowed upon by him.

"He's the Thoroughbred of Sin," Electrostatic said, hiding her face in her hands.

For some reason, it was at this point when it dawned upon Electrolexi: "He's a horse, isn't he?"

Electrostatic looked up from her palms and nodded once gravely.

"My father's a HORSE?"

"A bad horse.  A very very bad horse."

Well, that explained nothing at all....

"I wanna do great things, you know?  I wanna be an achiever, like Bad Horse."

- Doctor Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog

A Note on Comic Book Conventions

Yesterday I went to my very first comic book convention, C2E2.  To be quite honest, I had a blast.  Sure, my feet were killing me by the end of the day, but that's what you get when you wear Converse with no arch support, hooray!  But it was fine, all my toes are still in tact and I don't think I wore out my soles.

Spending as much time on the Internet as I do, I was primed to look out for people in costumes.  Good costumes.  And there were some good costumes.  But the originality was lacking.  I saw A LOT of The Doctor from Doctor Who, and the same ones over and over again: Four, Ten, and Eleven.  I maybe saw one Nine and one of the First.  And then there were a lot of superheroes and super villains.  Of course.  Makes sense.  But typical.  Lots of Harley Quinn.  The Joker.  Superman.  Spiderman.  Yeah.  So a little disappointed in that respect.

But really excited about other things.  Like the Doctor Who postcards I got.  And the Kill Shakespeare comic I bought.  That's right, my very first comic that I bought all by myself instead of getting it from a friend. There was so much to look at, and a couple costumes to guess about.  And of course, hanging out with friends.  Because they're awesome.

Unfortunately, I wrote yesterday's poem today.  And today's poem is not appropriate for this blog.  So...here.

April 26, 2013

I'd like to apologize, my friend,
for my offenses.
When I turned in my chair
and asked you to leave,
that was rude.
Then allowing separation
as if breaking from the herd
and ignoring the
sheepdog yapping.
I lost sight
and wandered blindly deaf
to any pleas,
then ask you for more,
to be my cover story
accomplice
to late night affairs.

I apologize
for the shrunken sweater
discomfort bred
by my frivolity
skipping through aisles
on rubber-soled ecstasy.

"Because that's what a comic is, ultimately: a collection of pages.  It's not a flatpanel or a touchscreen, even though that's where it might eventually be displayed.  It's a page."

- John Heffernan

Aaaaand...look, distraction!

It looks like we're nearing the end of the month, which means a lot of people who are participating in NaPoWriMo will be done with their challenge to write a poem a day for a month.  I'm really excited to go through everybody's blogs and read what they've come up with, because that'll no doubt give me more ideas for my own poems.  Plus I'm really excited that I'm not the only one out there writing poems daily.  Is that selfish?  Maybe a little bit.

Anyway, Poem-A-Day April has been going really well.  I only fell behind that one weekend when I went to camp, but I caught up pretty quick because it was only a couple poems behind.  As for the zodiac challenge, that I've failed on.  I had every intention of writing them, especially because I have people who were excited to read a couple specific zodiac signs.  I'm really sorry!  I'll probably use the whole zodiac/horoscope thing as inspiration for random poems rather than a month challenge.  And there we go again, learning what challenges work and don't...

Poem-A-Day May promises to be exciting because every month is cause for excitement.  but I'm looking for a challenge.  Something that I can do weekly.  No ideas yet.  I'm thinking back to a couple older challenges, and one of them was to start one poem a week with "Where were you last night?"  That was a really neat concept because I got to play around with different ways of handling that.  Kinda similar to the challenge to write drunken poetry.  So I'm thinking I should find some sort of challenge that will be like that, because it might make me think more.  Or try forms.  Which might break my brain, but who knows, maybe I'd learn something?  Learning is good.

On Monday, I visited the Poetry Foundation downtown.  First off, I took the El into the city and then had to take another line north of the Loop.  Because I had a lot of time on my hands, it didn't ultimately matter, so that adventure was fun.  Except that I thought I could transfer at one stop, and it turns out that you can't, so after getting off the train and making my way onto the street level, I walked a couple blocks to another station where I had learned I could make my transfer.  Luckily it was a nice day.

Once I got to the stop where I needed to be, I went the wrong direction on the street and had to turn around, but I finally got to the building.  [this is where Brianna realizes that she's told this story in a previous blog post, oops?]  Anyway, it was closed until later.  So I went to Starbucks to get a drink.  That's when a woman came up to me and asked, "Did you just try to go to the Poetry Foundation?"  I shuffled my feet a little and said, "Yeah..." She was very nice when she said that they didn't open until 1 PM, and I was bashful about her having witnessed my embarrassing door-pulling from the other side of the gigantic glass windows.

Clutching my iced mocha of joy, I took the El back in the direction I had come from and met up with my friend for lunch.  He bought, because he's a nice person and knows that I'm unemployed.  It was underlined by the fact that he was on his lunch break from his job that he's pretty happy with.  I'm not going to hold that against him because he bought me lunch AND dessert.  Hey, I can't complain about a toffee cookie, that thing was delicious.  Actually, the whole sandwich was delicious.  There was cheese and vegetables and pesto, and yum.  I should have taken a picture that I could post here.  Darn.  Missed opportunity.

Yesterday, I visited my friend who's involved in drag shows.  She was looking for costumes for another show that she's going to do, so we went to a couple costume shops in Boystown and another shop that I shouldn't mention because this should be a family friendly blog, but let's suffice it to say that there was a lot of lace, silk, and rope.  Special rope.  Then we went to get food because Brianna had eaten a pocket of trail mix for lunch (and learned that M&Ms and the letter M are trademarked by Mars, Inc.  Though I feel like the letter M shouldn't be able to be trademarked...that shouldn't be allowed.).  All around it was a really good afternoon and it was really great to see her because I hadn't seen her in person for close to a year.  Craziness.

And then another friend came over and we watched Woman in Black.  It's a miracle I didn't have nightmares, but it was my idea, so...

I really should never complain about having no friends again [Brianna goes back through her post and sees how many times she mentions "my friend."].

And tomorrow, tomorrow I'm going to C2E2 with my friend (aha!) because she's going for her work.  Yeah, her work is paying for her to go to a comic book convention.  I suddenly find myself wanting a job that would do that for me.  That would be really exciting.  Anyway, I'm super excited because I've never been to a comic book convention, and I'm looking forward to shamelessly people-watching.  Because that's what I do.  Should I bring my TARDIS notebook?  Hm, the possibilities...

That's all I really have to say, so that's all, folks!

"Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life."

- Mark Twain

To Seduce a Whovian

I love Doctor Who.  I don't know if I say that enough on this blog, but I do.  This morning, I watched the most recent episode, and it made me smile, made me cry, and made me smile all over again.  It was beautiful.  I particularly enjoyed the reference to "The Walrus and the Carpenter."  Oh, and Clara.  Because she's adorable and I'm looking forward to getting to know her.

Anyway, I was driving on my way to pour my wallet into a gas-providing machine, and it suddenly struck me that today is the perfect day to write a nerd poem.  So here we go!

To Seduce a Whovian
(April 8, 2013)

Hand them a leaf,
crinkled around the edges
and scarlet middled,
tell them this leaf
is the most important leaf
in all of human history.
Pull them into a phone booth,
a red one will do
if blue is unavailable,
in the space remaining,
flying them to the moon.
Gift them with souvenirs
from your travels,
then take them along
for the next one.
Wear nothing
but a bow tie
and maybe a fez.
Whisper sweet nothings
surrounding the Shadow Proclamation
and be a Bad Wolf
when you use your sonic.

There was a time when I had a big long list of ideas for a series of nerd poems, and I did write a couple of them for my Stand Up Poetry class a couple years ago, but it's definitely a subject that I have a lot of fun writing about even though I haven't written a nerd poem in a very long time.  So on that note, I'm thinking that I may return to that list of ideas if I can find it.

Clara:  So we're moving through actual time?  So what's it made of?  Time.  If you can just rotor through it, it must be made of stuff, like jam's made of strawberries.  So what's it made of?

The Doctor:  Well.  Not strawberries.  No.  No, no, no.  That would be unacceptable.

-  Doctor Who, The Rings of Akhenaten

Love Me Dead

There's a book out there in the world called 642 Things to Write About.  I saw it at Barnes and Noble the other day, and because I'm a cheapskate and because I bought a bunch of Sharpie pens that I didn't need, I didn't get this book.  But I DID shamelessly Google it and find a bunch of Tumblr posts from it, which conveniently provided me with a couple ideas for things I could write about here.  Go figure, right?

Today's prompt:  Write a story based on the title of your favorite song.

My favorite song is currently Neon Trees' "Everybody Talks," but I wasn't really feeling it...so I'm using another one of my top favorite songs, Ludo's "Love Me Dead."

Thump.  Draaaaaag.  Thump.  Draaaaaag.  Thump.  Draaaaaaag.

This is the soundtrack of the afterlife.  When you're the only one wandering the burnt out streets of your hometown and you've suddenly lost all desire to speak more than a couple syllables, this is the sound you have to accompany your travel.

Thump.  Draaaaaag.

And that's because I twisted my ankle in some strange direction, and because the bone didn't heal right, or at all, I'm just dragging my sad left foot along through the dust and ash.  I feel like a weird cliche, but the shriveled remains of my brain can barely wrap itself around the concept of marbles let alone a cliche.

Westley whispered into my ear, "Death cannot stop true love, all it can do is delay it a little while."  And I believed him.  I believed that we would be together and we would love so much and so deeply it would embarrass the neighbors.  I believed that no matter how many times I received word that he had died, he would show up at the door that evening for dinner.

And I should have suspected somehow that his attachment was deeper than mine because he's gone off and died, and I'm stuck here.  He loved me just so much, his love isn't letting me die properly.  Which is great for me, I guess.  Prince Humperdinck doesn't really mind that I can't speak well or the limp I've got going on, and he's desperately wanted me for some time now.  Well, Westley, you had your chance, and now you screwed it up for all of us.  Thanks, thanks a lot.

"Kill me romantically, fill my soul with vomit, then ask me for a piece of gum.  Bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum."

- Ludo, "Love Me Dead"

Weird-o

Source: imgfave.com via Brianna on Pinterest

It's true.  I know quite a few people who appear perfectly sane until you get to know them, and then they reveal their true craziness.  And I don't mean padded walls, strait jacket crazy, although there are some people I know or have met who should probably set themselves up with that scenario, but I mean the type of endearing crazy that all humans have and are so reluctant to share with strangers.

And I wonder the same way that Charlie does in Perks of Being a Wallflower, "Do you ever think, if people knew how crazy you really were that no one would ever talk to you?"  That question in and of itself answers any question that I could ever have about why people hide their crazy.  But at the same time, it's the people who are fearless and who wear their crazy on their arms like expensive tattoos who are the most interesting.  And as I've met more people and learned more about the world (which, admittedly is not a lot, but I get by), I've come to realize that I'd rather talk to interesting people than small talk with monotonous people.  Which sounds like a no-brainer, but sometimes we have revelations that are dumb or that prompt other people to say "duh."

Being a person who wears a shell for the first...I don't know how long amount of time when you first meet me, it's a little difficult to tell how many people I'm friends with who inspire me to be comfortable with my weirdness.  There was one person in particular who I met and spent a lot of time with, and I was frustrated when it was taking me so long to come out of my shell.  It might defeat the purpose of having a shell if you acknowledge it with a text like, "It's just taking me so long to come out of my shell!"  But it was kinda awesome that that person said it'd be worth the wait.  I need more people in my life like that.

I wonder how many people wear shells when they first get to know other people.  I mean, at least half the world is introverted, so is it just them?  Hm.  What can less introverted people do to make introverts more comfortable?

So for now, I need to keep my weirdness in check because I may be comfortable around the new people I'm meeting, but I'm sensing that it's not the same in the opposite direction, and I'm not sure why that is.  Also need to make a note that my sense of humor is weird and I should be more serious.  At least for a little while.  But be warned, the second that comfort level increases, the sarcasm and the ridiculousness will return.  And you'll have to figure out whether I'm joking instead of me telling you every time.  So there.

"We're all a little weird, and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutual weirdness and call it Love."

- Dr. Seuss

Challenge Day 7

That's right, folks!  It's time to celebrate, because here is the daily writing challenge!  I've finished a whole week's worth of the challenge in...about two months.  But we're not going to talk about that because today is a day of celebration!  Everyone should do a writing challenge and spread out the prompts like the last bits of butter in the container across an entire loaf of bread...it's all good!

Here we have Day 7: Create a superhero.  Have he/she save the day.  (We're not going to talk about the grammar mistake happening right before our very eyes, but I am going to shamelessly point it out.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Electrolexi's superhero name wasn't her idea.  She had wanted a name that was cool.  Like "The Inanimator."  Or something like that.  But her superhero mom thought that it would be clever to use little bits of the young superhero's name.  Alexandra turned into Electrolexi.  No relation to Electrolux.  Or maybe there was.  Superhero family trees were always so complicated, you would never know who was related to whom unless there was a slight similarity in name.  Batman and Batgirl?  Definitely father and daughter.  Wait, that wasn't right...

Anyway, Electrolexi's superpower involved being able to communicate with inanimate objects.  This was not exactly a power that gained you recognition among the superhero community, it was on par with being able to transform into a puddle of water or creating marshmallows with your toes.  Something like that.  Electrolexi's mother could control electricity and her father...well, not even Electrolexi's mother would admit who he was, though Electrolexi suspected he was Superman, but that was partially a case of wishful thinking.

On a February morning, Electrolexi turned on the television in her mother's living room to see a screen announcing, "BREAKING NEWS!"

"We've just heard word from NASA that their latest rocket, Iris VI has been hijacked by an unknown entity.  We can posit that the person climbing into the cockpit and throwing the prep crew out a window is a man from the body type observed on the surveillance cameras, but nothing else can be assumed at this point.  Superman was on the scene to save the prep crew being thrown out of the rocket, but has since disappeared, it has been reported that a Bruce Wayne who was funding the rocket's expedition may be on the scene any minute now to consult.  We will keep you updated."

"Ahem, 'scuse me, but could you 'old me a bit lighter?" coughed the television remote.

"Oh!  Sorry..." mumbled Electrolexi.  She hadn't even realized that she was gripping it white-knuckled.

Without a fully formed plan, Electrolexi grabbed her cape and ran out the door.  About halfway down her block, she got a stitch in her side and had to slow down to a brisk walk as she passed the bus that she would normally be taking to her high school.  Chances are if she failed in whatever she wasn't planning on doing, her mother would kill her for skipping school to save the world anyway.

By the time she got to NASA, Electrolexi had a vague idea of what she should do.

"Hey!  You can't be in here!" a bespectacled man yelled at her as she rushed down the hall to the control room.

"Trust me, I've got this handled!" she bellowed over her shoulder.  Though she probably wasn't the most convincing person the man had heard, considering she was a lanky teenaged girl running full speed down a hallway toward the control room of a gigantic rocket, but what did that matter anyway?

Barreling into the control room, Electrolexi yelled at the top of her lungs, "Let me talk to the rocket!"

A group of rocket scientists turned from their computer screens to take in the teenaged girl standing inside the door and panting to catch her breath.  None of them smiled, none of them found this even remotely funny.  There was an unknown man in the cockpit of the rocket and this silly girl was demanding that she be allowed to "talk to the rocket"?

"Pardon me, little girl, but who do you think you are?" asked a white-haired man closest to the door where Electrolexi was still panting.

"I'm Electrolexi.  Trust me.  I've got this.  Give me a microphone."

The rocket scientists were all so baffled by the presence of a teenager in their control room, they just handed her a microphone without any further questions.  The white-haired man snickered a little bit and shook his head before settling back into his seat.

Closing her eyes and concentrating, Electrolexi tuned into what she figured was the rocket's voice singing a tuneless ditty without words as it prepared to take off.  It didn't really care who was piloting it, it just wanted to fly.

"Hey, Iris?  Iris VI?  This is Electrolexi, can you hear me?"

"Electrolexi?  I don't think I know you.  Are you friends with the president?" the rocket asked, halting her song rather abruptly when she was interrupted.

"Yeah, we'll go with that.  Okay, I need you to stay put, alright?  If you get clearance for take-off, it's not from us."

"Right-o!"

Electrolexi let out a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding.  That was easy.  Too easy...

To be continued...?

Complimentary, My Dear Watson

Here we are again, using a prompt from my mysterious prompt box.

Today's prompt: Write about some compliments people have given you.

I've been told that I have "presence."  I do enjoy the spotlight, so I'm glad that people think that I can command attention.  What's interesting about that is how I identify as an introvert, but I'm pretty okay at pretending that I'm an extrovert.  So when I get compliments about how people think I perform well or that I have a sort of charisma, I'm hugely flattered because that's not something I would naturally attribute to myself.

I have a poem about nerds that I wrote for my Stand Up Poetry class, and I particularly enjoy reading it because I get a lot of compliments on it.  Denise Duhamel said that she liked my title, "Nerds Do It by the Book," and Matt Guenette said that he wanted to steal the line "***SPOILER ALERT!***" from me.  It was the very first poem in my university's literary magazine one semester, and people came up to me on campus and told me that it was hilarious, that it made them want to read more in the magazine, that they read it aloud to their friends and everyone thought it was funny.  The biggest compliment that I got for that poem was a date, which was pretty awesome.

I also have a friend who told me I "fascinate" her and that I'm "pretty damn amazing."  I remember these compliments word for word because I wrote them down in a notebook, not believing that I could possibly be that awesome, especially not in the eyes of someone who I regarded so highly.  I may have kept those quotes written on the mirror in my room for some time because every time I thought about them, I smiled.

For my last compliment I need to tell you that in high school, I did a lot of theatre.  I feel like every time I talk about my theatre days I probably sum it up by saying that I "did a lot," but that's really just the prologue to this semi-story.

My junior year of high school, we did a production of The Laramie Project for our fall play.  For anyone who knows what the play/movie is about, you'll  know that it's a pretty heavy play for a high school to put on, but every other year we did a drama, and that was ours that year.  In summary that does little to no justice to the beauty of the story, it's about the murder of a homosexual student in Wyoming, and how his death brings together the community of Laramie.  It was a very small cast, so that meant everyone was playing about 4-6 different characters throughout the two hour show.  One of my characters was a friend of one of the murderers.  I played her as a drunk/high undereducated foul-mouthed bigot.  It was a good time.  Well at the end of the production during our pizza party, the senior class gives out unofficial awards to everyone in the cast and crew.  I received the award for, "Playing 'drugged out' a little too good."  And that was one of the best compliments I got for that performance.

"It's a great mistake for men to give up paying compliments, for when they give up saying what is charming, they give up thinking what is charming."

- Oscar Wilde

Saving Snickers

(based on a picture from my Writing Inspiration board on Pinterest)

Source: facebook.com via Katie on Pinterest

Snickers didn't want to be saved.  Having accomplished the miraculous feat of making a break from the green Victorian on Vine and scampering across the stretch of front lawn, Snickers had scrabbled up a tree on the parkway and now there was this grown man wearing spandex reaching towards him.  Snickers would have none of this.  Unsheathing his claws, Snickers brandished them at the man with all the threat his little bell-collared self could muster.

"Come on, Snickers, just come on over here," the man was saying as he clutched at the trunk of the tree and reached out for the cat.  The old woman who lived in the green Victorian and provided Snickers with cat nip every week on Friday stood at the base of the tree, looking up.  She tilted her head so far back her big round glasses slid up the slope of her nose and rested on her face.  Snickers fostered little pity for the old woman who had her young grandchildren come visit on the weekends and pull his tail.

"Why don't you fly, Superman?" yelled a skateboard-toting boy from the sidewalk.  The man in spandex ignored this jibe because evidently he didn't deem it necessary to rise to this occasion.  In Snickers' opinion, the man in spandex would probably be able to better coax his feline self to come down if he displayed some level of inhuman skill.  Lex Luthor must have had the day off otherwise why would this man who called himself "Superman" be climbing a tree to retrieve a cat?

Snickers did not find this amusing.  He bristled at the hand reaching towards him and promptly slashed it across the knuckles, drawing blood and leaving little carvings of parallel lines across the hero's extremities.  Superman immediately stuffed his bleeding fingers in his mouth to stifle the un-super hero-like curse that threatened to escape.

"Come here, Snickers, Granny's got a nice new ball of yarn for you to play with if you come down," the old woman beckoned, her face still tilted to the sky and her eyes squinting through her glasses at the bristling ball of fuzz that was Snickers who was still unconvinced that his adventure needed to end here and now.

Superman pulled his fingers out of his mouth and slowly returned his grip to the tree branch where Snickers was standing.  His face seemed to soften into a guilty expression and he looked at Snickers, speaking softly,  "Look, Snickers.  Let me level with you.  I'm kinda not having the greatest day.  Lois is moving out to focus on her career, Lex Luthor TP-ed the Fortress of Solitude, and I have a wicked hangover, so if you could just come on down, you'd really be doing me a favor."

The man in spandex let that sink into Snickers' little cat head and little cat thoughts.  He could see that Snickers was relaxing his muscles, toning down the bristles.  The cat's eyes softened and his scowl relaxed into a far more neutral expression.  Which is when Superman reached out and picked up Snickers with a grab as fast as a speeding bullet, realizing only too late that Snickers still had his claws out.

"If cats looked like frogs, we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are.  Style.  That's what people remember."

- Terry Pratchett

Potter Noir

This morning, I dipped into my prompt box.  Once upon a very long time ago, I made myself a prompt box.  I think I needed time to forget what I had written on all the little strips of orange paper, because when I first attempted to use it, it didn't go so well because it seemed that I was looking for specific prompts.  I vetoed using "My saddest memory is..." for today though.  Mostly because I'm trying this new thing that involves my trying to be positive.  It's hard though, and I'm not even sure if I'm doing it right.

So today's prompt: Take a passage from a book, a favorite or a least favorite, and rewrite the passage in a different style such as noir, gothic romance, pulp fiction, or horror story.

I was so close to using Pride and Prejudice, but I think I've been watching too much of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and I don't want to be influenced by that.  So Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban it is!  We're going to give this a try with the scene where Snape catches Harry out of bed with the Marauder's Map and the Map commences to insult Snape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Snape was a cold, hard-boiled man, his dark eyes flicking between shadows.  He knew Potter would turn up sooner or later, so he was just biding his time.  Leaning up against one of the cold stone walls, Snape tossed a silver Sickle into the air, catching the flipping coin as it descended.  He did all of this without looking because he had been practicing this routine in his bedroom since adolescence.

Sure enough, Potter slipped into the middle of the hallway, bold as brass.  With a lip curling sneer, Snape intercepted the teenaged Boy Who Lived.

"Caught red-handed.  Did you really think you would get away with it, Potter?" Snape asked.  His voice was barely a whisper, but since the portraits slumbered in their frames, Potter was certain to hear.

Potter shifted into a defiant posture, his spine loosening and his arms crossing over his chest.  He knew he was caught and there was no getting away from Snape this time.

"Gotta hand it to you, Potter, you really did give me the slip at the last Quidditch game, but the Dementors made sure you didn't get very far."

"What's it to you where I go?  You're not my mother," Potter sneered, clutching at the worn piece of parchment Snape had neglected to notice so far.  Or so it seemed.  But at the mention of Potter's mother, Snape's eyes glazed over momentarily.  Lily.  Snape shook himself out of the incoming flash of memory and grabbed onto Potter's arm.

"And what might that be?" he asked.

"Nothing.  Bit of parchment Ron got me from Hogsmeade," Potter said, nervously shifting in Snape's ironclad grip.

"Oh, and you're just so attached to it you carry it around when you're wandering the halls after hours?  I don't think so."

Snape flipped around and dragged Potter off to the dungeon.  His office.  The hallways were dark, in shades of gray and black, because that's how Snape saw the world.  Everything was in shades of gray.  Forty-nine.  Forty-nine shades of gray.  Once they reached Snape's office, he shoved Potter into a very uncomfortable chair on one side of his desk, tearing the scrap of parchment out of the boy's hands.

"Show yourself," Snape commanded the parchment, poking at it with his weapon.  Snape's weapon of choice was a wooden model, a stick of a wand as dark as his eyes.  The parchment lay on the desktop, doing nothing spectacular.  "That's an order, bub."  Nothing.  "Severus Snape, the law of this joint demands you give up your secrets."

The parchment remained motionless on the desktop, but words began to appear on its surface as if a typewriter were clicking out each letter.

Mr. Moony addresses his compliments to Severus Snape and expresses his complete bafflement that a goon like that could swindle Albus Dumbledore.

Mr. Padfoot concurs with Mr. Moony and would like to add that Snivellus Snape is an insufferable dog.

Mr. Prongs comments that Snape is a lowdown good-for-nothing greasepot that can't get a girlfriend.

Mr. Wormtail bids Mr. Snape good night and advises that he wash his hair, the slimeball.

Snape looked up at Harry Potter with murder in his eyes.

"As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth surface of the map."

- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Favorite Lines

Q:  So what's your favorite movie quote?

A:  Um.  My favorite?  Of all time?  Do I have to pick one?

Q:  You mean you have more than one?  How do you know more than one movie quote?

A:  I watch a lot of movies...?

Q:  Fine...write a list...

A:  Awesome!  In no particular order...

1.  "I love this plan!  I'm excited to be a part of it!" - Dr. Venkman (Ghostbusters)

A big reason I love this quote is because it's so applicable to my real life.  I use it all the time.  It's always really great to see who gets the reference.  Luckily my boyfriend gets this one every time.  I get the feeling it's because we've seen Ghostbusters far too many times.

2. "Life moves pretty fast.  If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." - Ferris Bueller (Ferris Bueller's Day Off)

This is a really good sign off for a yearbook.  I know this because I spent a good four years signing yearbooks with this quote.  Mostly because it's one of my favorite movies of all time, and also because it's insightful yet simple.  Besides, my uncle looks like Matthew Broderick.  Something I'll explain at a later date.

3. "But you know the thing about romance is people only get together right at the very end." - Love Actually

So this isn't one of my favorite quotes because I use it like the first two quotes, but I do quite enjoy this quote because it's so true.  It's said by the eleven year old adorableness who learns how to play the drums so the girl he loves will know he exists.  I adore that character and so there's really no reason not to like this quote...

4. "Inconceivable!" - Vizzini (The Princess Bride)

Classic.  This one shows up in casual conversation for me all the time, as do other quotes from this movie, but I couldn't quite bring myself to write "The Princess Bride in its entirety" as one of my favorite quotes.  This is my favorite movie of all time, and I can definitely quote it.  LOVE so much.

5. "She's safe just like I promised.  And she's all set to marry Norrington just like SHE promised, and you get to die for her just like YOU promised.  So we're all men of our word, really, except for Elizabeth who is, in fact, a woman." - Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl)

I love this quote.  I love this character.  So much.  So I have a friend named Elizabeth, and I was just dying for someone to ask me where she was so I could answer with this quote.  One day in Best Buy, someone finally asked me, and I may have made a scene as I was replying with this quote.  Elizabeth's reaction was also priceless.

6. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." - Rhett Butler (Gone with the Wind)

I really wish this would come up in casual conversation more often, because then I would be as cool as Rhett Butler who really had a lot on his plate when it came to Scarlet.  Scarlette?  However you spell her name.  Yeah.  Famous line, really wish I could use it more often.  I think I may have used it properly once.  Hm.

7. "She doesn't even go here!" and "Four for you, Glenn Coco!  You go, Glenn Coco!" - Mean Girls

This movie is so quotable, which I never would have thought going in to watch it in the theatre back in the day.  But no, this movie is a lot more awesome than I thought it was back then, and these are definitely the two quotes I hear used/use myself the most often.  Or variations of these.

8. "It's just a flesh wound!" - The Black Knight (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Love.  So much love.  There's really nothing to explain here.

9. "It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark out, and we're wearing sunglasses." "Hit it." - The Blues Brothers

This is one of the few movies that my father will watch with me and my brother, so by default I love it.  I also frequently use this quote regardless of how far from Chicago I am.  Yup.  Used all the time.

10. "You stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking Nerf herder!" - Princess Leia (Empire Strikes Back)

I couldn't resist.  I can't say that I use this quote, but I love it.  It's a fantastic insult, up there with the insults from The Princess Bride insults at the end of the movie, and if I ever get the chance to use this insult, I may do a happy dance.

I Meant to Write...

And that was when my pen ran out of ink...

Just as I was about to write that letter to you that I promise I've been meaning to write.  I mean, your letter's only been sitting next to my computer for about two weeks now, and I still haven't found the time to write back.  Maybe it's because I'm lacking in bright colored paper at the moment.  I'll have to scurry off to ORL to steal--I mean...redistribute some paper into my personal stores.

Just as I was about to write that poem.  I should probably have written it earlier, especially with all that free time I had in my accounting class.  And I had a really great idea too, about a nerdy Romeo and Juliet type thing.  It was going to be really funny.  Okay, well, maybe.  You might have chuckled.

When I really had to write down the assignment for my marketing class.  And notes for the murder mystery that I was helping with.  But that's alright, I have another--no, wait.  That pen's out too.  Two of my favorite pens, the Bic "crystal" black pens.  I love those pens.  They never run out!  I swear I still have one of them from my freshman year.

Right before the cops stopped me and demanded that I sign away my soul on a burrito wrapper.  I'm not quite sure what they were planning on doing with my burrito-smelling signature, but as it is...they couldn't have it.

Just as I was considering what black ink would taste like.  It was a sign.  I shouldn't try to drink ink.

Just as I got a great idea for a cure for the common cold.  I'm pretty sure it would work this time, I just need to add woolly socks to the mechanism that I already have in place.  The one made out of old paper clips, pencil shavings and used Post-It notes.  It's going to be big!

Right before life threw me a lemon.  So I couldn't even stab the thing and make it bleed inky droplets of lemony goodness.

Just as I was writing---

Use the Force

A:  I went through at least three prompts today before I could decide on something that I wanted to write about.

Q:  That's because you're indecisive.

A:  Yes.  But quiet, you.  Did you really want to hear about my first job?  Or "something you've always been good at"?  I didn't think so.

Q:  Actually---

A:  No.  So let's talk about Star Wars.

Thank you, Google!

Q:  That trilogy that you're a geek over?

A:  Well first.  Let's clarify.  Trilogy yes.  Geek no.  We discovered only fairly recently that a "geek" is a circus performer who bites the heads off of live chickens.  Though I occasionally do so in my spare time, that's hardly something I want to advertise to the populous.

Q:  Fine.  Nerd.

A:  That's better.  Anyway.

I first saw Star Wars (the original trilogy) at my grandparents' lake house.  My uncle was really super excited to show us these movies, and we sat down and watched them.  I remember sitting on the floor with my brother, staring up at the TV, but I don't remember any of my reactions or anything.  I do remember that the carpet was sulfur yellow.  If I'm not mistaken.  I was little, but I know my brother was around.  I want to say I was about eight-ish.  We'll go with that.

It was always a big deal going to the lake house, but for the sake of watching Star Wars, it was an even bigger deal.  It became part of our tradition.  We would go to the Memorial Day flea market type deal in this pine tree forest, buy kettle corn, swim in the lake with our life jackets, go on the boat with Grandpa, and watch Star Wars.

My grandpa on the other side of the family had the box set of Star Wars too, if I'm not mistaken, as well as Indiana Jones.  So my brother and I borrowed those from him ALL the time.  When the lake house was getting sold, or once our uncle got the DVD box set of Star Wars, we were allowed to take the VHS set from the lake house for our own.  And now we actually owned Star Wars and could watch it all the time at home instead of waiting until the summer when we went to the lake house.

With the Blu-ray version of Star Wars coming out soon, I'm seeing a lot of information about things that are being changed especially for that version.  I only just learned about the "Greedo shoots first" thing last year while I was writing my series of nerd poems, and I thought that was dumb.  Han clearly shot first because Greedo never shot.  I understand the reasoning behind trying to make Han a victim and his killing of Greedo a self defense mechanism, but honestly?  Part of what makes Han such a great character is that you can't tell if he's a good guy or a bad guy.  And he is a criminal at the beginning, so he would shoot a bounty hunter to save his own skin.  Makes sense.  Stupid DVD changes.  io9 explains some of the changes that are being made for the Blu-ray version.  My favorite being "No...NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"  Which is so ridiculously unnecessary, I don't even know what to do with it.

One of my RAs and I geeked out (we're still using that term despite the chicken thing because there's no better way to say it) about Star Wars yesterday, and it was just about one of the most exciting things ever.  Although we mourned the changes to the Blu-ray version of the original trilogy.  Which also include adding blinking Ewok eyes?  Why is that necessary?!?!  I don't understand these additions because they add absolutely nothing to the film.  I understand.  Make it HD, make it pretty, but don't change the 70s effects and don't change the Muppets, that's what distinguishes the originals from the over computerized new trilogy.  Which we're not going to talk about.

And then my friend Katie and I were having a conversation via text as she continues to compel me to "join the Dark Side" aka Twitter.  An entire text conversation featuring Star Wars references.  My life is complete.

"Luke, you do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy."

- Darth Vader

Oh What a Night

Q:  Whatcha doing tonight?

A:  Homework.

Q:  Really?

A:  No.  Not really.

Tonight I'm going to a meeting for Lyrical Graffiti, the poetry organization on campus.  They organize poetry slams and open mics and they get poets to come and do shows on campus.  All around it's a pretty exciting group.  Though I've never technically gone to a meeting before.

My sophomore year, I went to nearly all of the open mics that Lyrical Graffiti sponsored, and nearly every time, one of the senior members of the group would ask if I would read something.  Shy Brianna said "No, I don't have anything to read," every time.  But at open mics for Lyrical Graffiti, they send around a notebook and everyone contributes a line to the community poem.  One night that same senior called me up to read the community poem.  Which was fabulous.  I don't remember what it was about, I just remember being terrified by the prospect of getting up and standing behind that microphone.  It wasn't until May Term, or maybe it was the very end of spring semester that I finally (willingly) got up to read a poem.  That senior introduced me as the girl who came to every open mic and who FINALLY had something to read.  That was one of the most spectacular experiences ever.

I've read my poetry aloud a bit more often, but I'm still a little shy about a couple of my poems.  And when I mean a couple, I mean one.  It's titled "Nerds Do It By the Book" and it's about (you guessed it) nerd sex.  So when I was writing it for my Stand Up Poetry class last year, I wouldn't read it aloud until the show we were required to do, and even then...I was still absolutely petrified.  And then at the writing conference at the end of the year I read it again.  So it's only been read aloud by me twice.  I've heard rumors that it's been read by other people aloud...but I haven't been there so I can give no credence to those rumors.

In short, I have a history with this organization.  Even though I've never actually been to a meeting.  We'll see how that goes.

AND I also have a brainstorming meeting for International Clue Night.  If you've ever played CLUE the board game, it's kind of like that mixed with CLUE the movie, and all in real life.  In it's simplest form, it's a murder mystery party.  This year I'm helping to write the script for the second year in a row.  I'm really excited because I had so much fun writing last year, and I'm hoping that this year I'll be able to act.  All I really have to do is write a part that's perfect for me, right?

Q:  Thanks for telling me your life's schedule.

A:  You're welcome, you asked for it.

Q:  Isn't this blog supposed to be for creative writing?  That wasn't even creative.

A:  Sure, yes, it is.  I don't have anything to say to that, really.

Q:  So I win.

A:  For now.

--------------------------Edit-----------------------------

So I fail.  I was so excited about Lyrical Graffiti that I didn't read the e-mail correctly.  It's not until next week.

"Poetry is to prose as dancing is to walking."

- John Wain

How We Met...

A great whoosh and a groaning of gears and they were off.  Brianna grabbed onto a rail attached to the center console, still not completely accustomed to the rocky take off.  As a result of her sudden lurch, the fedora on Brianna's head was knocked askew, covering up her eyes.

"...and we'll just coast in for a nice visit to the Prohibition era and see if we can shake things up a bit in Chicago and--you okay?" the Doctor paused in his cataloging of all the things they would do that day in Prohibition era Chicago, a grin playing across his face as he took in the sight of a disheveled Brianna with her hat over her face.  He raised a single eyebrow and tapped the fedora so it would fall back on Brianna's head.

"Oh, yeah, fine, what were you saying?" Brianna asked, releasing her death grip on the rail and playing it cool as she edged away from the center console.

The Doctor laughed and jiggled a knob on the center console, sending the TARDIS rocketing in the opposite direction.

"That wasn't supposed to happen..." the Doctor muttered.  The man in the bowtie took another circuit of the console and re-examined every fact and figure about their destination.  "Come on, old girl, what's wrong?  Where are you taking us?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine, brilliant even," the Doctor assured his companion just as the TARDIS ground to a halt.  "We seem to be somewhere in the Horsehead Nebula.  And there's something about the TARDIS' wiring that's unhappy."  The Doctor dove under the console, shouting to Brianna that she should go ahead and explore ahead of him because he had to see what was wrong with the TARDIS.

Brianna would have sworn that she had heard the Doctor refer to the TARDIS as "sexy" just as she slipped out of the door, but it was completely possible that she was imagining things from the stress of an emergency landing.  Where they had landed in the Horsehead Nebula was a mystery to Brianna, but the sky was full of a purple mist, and you could actually see the wind picking up the dinner plate sized leaves of exotic trees.  It was like misty blue gray hands pulling the leaves up to dance.  Brianna took three steps from the TARDIS' front door and immediately fell into a ditch, once again dislodging her fedora.

"I really need to get a fedora that fits..." Brianna muttered, struggling to find some way to stand when it seemed she had fallen underneath something.  A pair of strong hands lifted her up under her armpits and brought her to a standing position.  "Thanks, Doctor, is everything--" Once Brianna's fedora was off her face, she turned around to see what had helped her to her feet and stopped short.  The creature that stood before her was clad in a scaly sort of armor.  Where she presumed its neck was was a ring of squid-like tentacles, but over its face was something that looked like a gigantic dirty white sock.  "DOCTOR!!!"

-------------------------------------

"Observe, a footprint of the Callimadraga.  It is shaped somewhat like a humanoid footprint with one distinct difference that it has an extra toe located at the heel of the foot."  A bespectacled gentleman in a lab coat pointed out the footprint on the ground with a green laser pointer for the benefit of his students.  The group of students sketched out the footprint with surprising accuracy, but it would come down to their illustrator to record the footprint for posterity.

But the illustrator's mind was elsewhere.  While her colleagues could think of nothing but the fascinating Callimadraga, Lizzie Claire thought of the stars back home.  More specifically watching the stars trace their way across the sky from the perch on her family's boathouse.  She smiled.

"Lizzie Claire!  We need you!"  The lead scientist beckoned Lizzie Claire over to the footprint, indicating how much of the surrounding dirt he needed illustrated.  Taking up her old-fashioned pad of paper and sketching pencil, Lizzie Claire silently set to work as the scientists looked for another footprint to observe.  She was meticulous in her illustrating and could only focus on that while she was doing it, otherwise the drawing would be worthless.  "Look!  Look at that!  It appears we'll be able to observe a rare decapitation ceremony!"

Lizzie Claire's ears perked up and she looked around the group of scientists, taking a silent count of everyone and establishing that indeed everyone was present and accounted for, so there was no need to worry that Annabelle had gotten lost amongst the trees and was about to be decapitated.  Standing on tiptoe to see over the heads of the scientists, Lizzie Claire caught sight of a small platoon of Callimadraga carrying what looked like a young lady in a fedora.

"It appears to be a human sacrifice that the Callimadraga are about to decapitate!  Oh, this is a rare treat!" the lead scientist was saying just as Lizzie Claire took off at a run after the group of Callimadraga.  "Lizzie Claire! Where are you going?!  We need you to illustrate the Callimadraga scat!"

But Lizzie Claire heard none of this as she raced behind the Callimadraga, keeping them in sight but keeping out of sight herself.  She was a bit out of breath, but she managed to keep up with them, listening to their clicking language and watching them carefully.

-------------------------------------

"But the head is deformed," a Callimadraga complained, indicating the fedora on Brianna's head.  "Should we not merely remove its intestines to skewer for earrings?"

Brianna raised her hand in the cage where she had been placed for the time being.  "I'm fully willing to donate my intestines for accessory purposes.  I'd love to keep my head."

"Silence, prisoner!" the Callimadraga said all at once.  There were at least five of them, all tall and imposing, and though they couldn't agree on whether to go through with the decapitation ceremony, they could all agree that Brianna talked far too much.

While the Callimadraga discussed the various pros and cons of actually decapitating their prisoner, Lizzie Claire managed to sneak up next to the cage near Brianna.

"Psst!"

"Who's that?!" Brianna demanded, whirling around and looking for the "psst"-er.

"Shhh..." Lizzie Claire bid Brianna, motioning Brianna to crouch down so they could speak at closer quarters.

"Who are you?" Brianna asked, lowering her voice to a level that she hoped the Callimadraga couldn't hear.  Though it wasn't quite a whisper, it was somewhat lower than her usual speaking volume.

"I'm Lizzie Claire, I'm here to rescue you!" Lizzie Claire declared, smiling as she did.  She gave no thought to the lock on the cage or the group of Callimadraga guarding the cage as she had all the confidence in the world that she would succeed.

"What about the lock on the cage and the group of squid things guarding the cage?"

"Don't worry, I've got it under control."

With that, Lizzie Claire straightened up and approached the Callimadraga.  She tapped one of them on the shoulder and grinned.

"A suitable sacrifice!" the Callimadraga rejoiced.

"I don't think so," said Lizzie Claire, not pausing to consider that she actually understood what they had said.  Taking a complicated ninja/yoga pose, Lizzie Claire began chanting a mixture of seashell, rabbit and Italian.  As she did, the Callimadraga swayed and softened their postures, crossing toward the cage and releasing Brianna.

"Come on!" Lizzie Claire said, pausing for only that second to beckon Brianna out of the Callimadraga base.  Continuing her chanting, Brianna led Lizzie Claire from the base.  Once they were out in the open air, Brianna took Lizzie Claire's hand and dashed off to the TARDIS.

"You saved my life!" Brianna exclaimed as she ran, tugging Lizzie Claire along behind.  "Your ninja skills are amazing!"

"It was nothing, really," Lizzie Claire said.

Finally, when the two reached the TARDIS safely, the Doctor popped out of the door and announced that all the wiring was perfect and that the TARDIS had never looked better.  After making quick introductions and explanations, Brianna asked if Lizzie Claire could join them on their adventures.

"Well...why not?" the Doctor said, grinning and welcoming Lizzie Claire into the TARDIS.  And with that, the three travelers took of for their next great adventure.

THE END

The Doctor

"Geronimo!"

- The Doctor

House Pride

I'm a Hufflepuff.
The last couple times I told people I was a Hufflepuff, the response I got was "aw!"   And that's not a "oh how cute!" aw, it was a "aw, that's so sad," aw.  Because there are very few people who actually want to be a Hufflepuff.  And Second City acknowledges that in its own way:

When the Harry Potter books first came out, I classified myself as a Gryffindor.  Hell, everyone was a Gryffindor in those days.  When I grew older, I started identifying myself as a Ravenclaw.  Because I was smart, and I liked to read, but I wasn't as brave as the Gryffindor I thought I was.  Since the books have stopped coming out and I've stopped waiting on my doorstep for them to arrive, I've come to the conclusion that I'm a Hufflepuff.  After taking countless Sorting Hat quizzes it was time I came to terms with my Hufflepuff-ness.  I've found that this quiz: http://www.personalitylab.org/tests/ccq_hogwarts.htm is a lot more reliable than those quizzes where all you have to do is answer "What's your favorite color?  Red?  Green?  Yellow?  Blue?" or "What would you do?  Save them?  Kick them in the face?  Study with them?  Or do nothing?".  Mostly because this quiz gives a percentage of each house that you are.  Usually I'm 90% or higher on Hufflepuff.  So there's really no denying it anymore.

Team Starkid's A Very Potter Musical took a fun take on Hufflepuff, so by the time I had watched the entire musical, I was feel a bit better about it.  Especially since the "good guy bad guy" thing characterizes Gryffindor and Slytherin really well.  Well, stereotypes, but it's true...so is it still a stereotype?  I've taken to answering people with "Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders!" whenever I get the pity "aw," so it's only a matter of time until I find someone who will answer me correctly.

Okay.  But let's think about this.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,Where they are just and loyal,Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,And unafraid of toil.- The Sorting Hat (book 1)

Now tell me what's so bad about being hard working and loyal and just?  In the last Sorting Hat song that we witness in Order of the Phoenix, we learn that Helga Hufflepuff basically took in all the strays and taught the lot of them.  So is Hufflepuff the misfit house?  And is that really a bad thing?  Hufflepuffs can be finders, they can be helpers, they can be completely off the wall crazy, and they still fit into their house category.  One Ravenclaw slacks off on a test and the whole category goes to shit.  Hufflepuff seems to me to be the non-category category.  The miscellany house where they have a tendency to be "nice."  As opposed to the other houses that aren't?  It's really not true.  There's a whole community of Hufflepuffs in the Harry Potter Alliance, and you can find their discussion about Hufflepuff awesomeness HERE.

My most recent theory about the Hogwarts houses goes a little like this.  Ravenclaws and Slytherins are fairly similar, leading me to believe that Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors are as well.  My theory is that Slytherins (excluding the "bad guy evilness" assumption) are just applied Ravenclaws.  While Ravenclaws are studious, they're more of theory people and Slytherins are more of action people who put their plans into motion.  Ravenclaws might do the research, but Slytherins are the ones who get it done.  Same with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.  I get the feeling that because they both have "good" assumptions (even though Hufflepuffs are more "goody two shoes" and Gryffindors are "good guys but rebels"), but that Gryffindors are the extroverts and Hufflepuffs are the introverts.  Yeah, it's a broad theory and it might take a little stretching to fit, but that's where I'm at right now.  Though I can totally live with not being an introverted Gryffindor...I'm fine with just being a happy Hufflepuff!

Ministry of Magic suggests that Hufflepuffs want to have a good time and stick around with their friends, and I can live with that.  (I only know about this song because a friend of mine sent it to me after getting really excited about my being Hufflepuff because that meant she could rally enough people to sing this song!  Because it's totally awesome.)  And that doesn't merit a pity "aw."

This song that I found posted on another friend's Facebook wall (because I'm a class A Facebook stalker) pretty much sums it up.

So what I'm trying to say is that there's no shame in being a Hufflepuff.  We're not the outcasts and we're not the misfits, and even if we are, that just makes us ten times cooler than we already were.  We're friendly, kind, brave, loyal, witty, everything that makes a good friend.  So if you're a Hufflepuff, raise your wands and show some pride!

Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy: Libraries and Dance Parties

According to The Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy, a "library" is a place where strange bound bunches of paper called "books" are kept.  A tradition held on Earth requires silence within a library, and the enforcers of this silence are called "shushers," or more commonly as "librarians."

An example of a librarian from the historically accurate film, Ghostbusters.

Of course in other star systems such as TrifectaVeritas, silence within a library is not only frowned upon, but it is viewed as an insult to the deceased writers that are preserved within the legs of all the reading tables.  Therefore, great shouts of anguish or hysterical bouts of laughter are encouraged and applauded whenever they happen at quarter past the hour every day.  It can only be assumed that Earth tradition's silence requirement is a sign of respect for those who cannot read while others are chattering in their ears or listening to loud music.  To those people, The Guide tips their metaphorical hat and informs them that they should probably start learning how to read in the midst of distraction or die a painfully quiet literary death.

It is interesting to note that those libraries found within the city limits of a certain Midwestern city of the most powerful* country in the world lay empty, silent or depressing while the libraries in the suburbs of that same city host a line** of people prior to the opening of their doors.  And once the swarm of people enter the library, every possible chair/table/desk/swatch of floor space is taken up by someone reading, studying or just generally trying to look studious and possibly failing.

A neighboring entry in The Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy outlines the method of starting a spontaneous dance party spontaneously and preserving the spontaneity of such an act.  Though dance parties are commonly accompanied by music and large groups of people moving around in some semblance to the rhythm pumping through people-sized speakers, The Guide insists that a dance party might be organized without music at all and with great distances established between dancers.  Dance parties without music in public places are strongly encouraged by The Guide as it is a sign of great joy or enthusiasm for life ahead.  But if music is found to be a necessity, then anything with loud bass and a lack of coherent lyrics is found preferable***.

* The Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy cannot be found liable for wildly inaccurate facts or opinions if they're already widely held opinions that are just being repeated for your benefit.

** The Guide neither condones nor condemns standing in line for library openings, amusement park rides or the release of obscure video games.

*** The music referrals by The Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy in no way reflect the opinions of the editors.  In fact, it may be said that the opinion of the editors is that fish may fly on zeppelins during Thursday afternoon tea.

"The loneliness was still there, but it was getting louder and easier to dance to."

- Unknown

Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy: Adventures

Adventure, according to the Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy is a popular film genre which usually stars a rough-edged hero played by any number of A-list actors.  The Guide goes on to explain that adventures also feature fairly predictable plotlines segmented by chase scenes, thereby leading to the phrase "cut to the chase."  The second entry in the Guide under "adventure" explains that an adventure is any exciting event, outing or action that increases levels of adrenaline in the adventure-seeker's body.  Common adventures include (but are not limited to): skydiving, bungee jumping, ding-dong-ditching and cow tipping.

In the extended version of the Hitchkratz's Guide to the Galaxy, it cites an example of an adventure written by one of the fieldworkers of the Guide:

Just the other day, I found an event on Facebook called "The MP3 Experiment."  For those who are not familiar with Improv Everywhere, it's coordinated by them.  Though I wasn't placed in New York for my field work for the Guide, I found out that the group had organized an MP3 Experiment for Chicago.  Which was perfect.  This is just some of the craziness that can ensue from an MP3 Experiment:

 So I had no idea what to expect.  After a couple hastily sent text messages, I had three friends to go with me to Millennium Park, all accompanied by our own MP3 players, having donned blue and yellow t-shirts.  At precisely 1:30 PM, we were sitting near the Bean and pressed "play."  For the next half an hour, we were lead by our omnipotent voice "Steve" through a series of activities that included stretching out, waving to other participants, giving the thumbs up to people who were just watching, walking around and freezing for one minute, playing a game of "follow the person who's not participating," hug inanimate objects, animals and other participants, engage in a spontaneous thumb war, power nap for 15 seconds, and journey to the field where concerts are held under the guise of finger mustaches.  Once at the field, we created a gigantic human dart board.  The dart board was gigantic, not the humans.  All the people in red t-shirts created the bulleseye, then they were surrounded by the greens and then the blues.  I was in yellow, so I got to be a dart and try to get as close as I could to the bullseye.  I made it to the border between green and red, and then we played a version of squished up "Twister," using each other as the dots on the board.  Then we were instructed to play Freeze Tag, and yellows were "it" first.  Somehow my MP3 player had gotten ahead of everyone else's, so I had a good five second headstart when I was "it".  After Freeze Tag, we had a 15 second power nap in the middle of the field, and then we had a slow motion celebration, running around, giving high fives and hugs...all in slow motion.  It was pretty much the highlight of my summer so far, which probably isn't saying much, it was definitely a once in a lifetime thing, and I'm glad to say that I did it!  ---- Field Agent 425830

 The Guide goes on to explain the origin of flash mobs and "urban pranks" as well as the wonders of brainwashing.  The Guide hypothesizes that a person could conceivably stage a coup merely by instructing people via an MP3 track to do ridiculous or subversive things.  And then the Guide digresses and disappears into a puff of distraction.

Random Acts

Q:  So what's the title about?

A:  The title of this post is an excuse for me to write about something random.  Today I was "working" by putting up posters for a street fair in a nearby suburb.  I've helped out with this fair before, and this would be the third year that I helped out.  

My first year, I did a lot of traffic directing (which really meant that people drove past me and got annoyed with me when I told them that they were in the wrong place and would have to move), though a lot of people ignored me because I was 18 and I looked it.  I also did a lot of that one job that everyone loathes, the one where you sit in a chair at one of the fair entrances and ask "Would you like to make an optional $1 donation?"  But I really spent a lot of time listening to my partner talk about the sci-fi/fantasy books that he read.  My second year (last year), I did a lot of odd jobs.  I moved tables, I helped pass out t-shirts that vendors had ordered, and I helped direct traffic (this year meant that I really just got in the way of cars causing my partner to worry that I would get hit by someone) until I was put on "lemonade stand duty."  Working at the lemonade stand gave me an excuse to be loud and obnoxious to get people to come buy lemonade from us.  My partner wasn't that extroverted, so it was up to me to entice customers by asking them to "help support me and my 15-year old husband...and our 8 children."  Or "help us win a competition against the other lemonade stand across the fair ground" by helping us sell more lemonade.  That and the tips. We got to keep our tips.  You wouldn't believe the amount of tips I walked away with that night...I was half afraid that someone would notice the swagger in my step as I walked away with pride.

This year...well this year I don't get to help with the actual fair.  Which is a bummer, because I would have liked to spend an entire day at the lemonade stand.  Mostly because I would love to see if I could break the record I set for myself last year.  Anyway, this year I got to help with putting up posters for this fair...two weeks in advance.  I spent 4 hours asking local businesses to put up posters, and I got paid a hefty sum, so I walked away happy.

During the day, I was at a little coffee shop in the neighborhood, and I was waiting to get the attention of the guy at the counter.  I was standing behind this shy-looking girl with glasses (she looked nothing like my obnoxious self in the over-large t-shirt), and she kept doing this little "look up, look down" thing at the guy standing behind the counter.  Definitely looked like she was interested in him, and he wasn't bad looking.  So I asked if I could put up a poster and he pointed me toward the ad board toward the back of the shop.  Then I had to walk back to the front door to get out of the place, so I had to pass Glasses Girl.  I thought about it, and then I decided "what the hell," so I leaned over and told her "He's cute, you should ask him out," smiling as I left the shop.  Probably one of the single-most gutsy things that I've done in my life.  Well.  Maybe not.  But still.  Random.  So maybe that's my attempt at being Jane Austen's Emma for a complete stranger.

That got me thinking, so I scribbled a poem.  Which sounds absolutely ridiculous: "And then I was suddenly inspired and wrote a masterpiece..." but there it is.  Rough, yes.  But it's a start, yeah?

Unrequited

Look up

     look down

     lips together.

Look up

     under lashes

     look down.

Longing

     in eyes so tired.

Studying

     her own sandals

     and tile floor.

Smile

     nod

     something.

Eyes

     blue like sky,

     today overcast.

Wishing

     to be breeze

     whispering clouds

     away.

Wanting

     waiting

     pining.

Silence

     guessing refusal.

Take Me Out to the Movies

Q: So.  What do you think about movies?

A: I love movies.  A lot.  Mostly because I grew up with them.  When I was little, maybe I was around 8, or maybe a little younger, I can't remember, my family used to go to my grandparents' lake house at Little Swan Lake.  I remember it being the most exciting part of my summer because we would all pile into the car for the long drive, my brother and I each getting a separate bench in our family's gray mini van.  Though I don't remember what time we left, we always got to the lake house in the dark because we'd have to be careful so we didn't trip over the gravel driveway or the shallow steps leading up to the door.  How this relates to movies?  Well, my uncle had left his boxed set of the Star Wars trilogy at the lake house, and my mother (being the nerd she is) introduced us to Star Wars very early in our lives.  I remember sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching Darth Vader enter the Rebel ship for the first time in Star Wars: A New Hope.  If I remember correctly, the carpet was sulfur yellow.

But it didn't stop there.  My mother continued to introduce us (us being myself and my brother) to movies that we still hold dear now.  Mostly trilogies, and mostly from the 80s, bringing us to Back to the Future and Indiana Jones.

Part of the reason (I think) I'm so drawn to movies is also because when I was so young, we went to my grandparents' house a lot.  My grandparents on my father's side.  There in the basement of cold tile, stale cigarette smoke and the laundry room was the most extensive collection of movies I had ever encountered.  Right next to Blockbuster or the little drug store that used to be down the street.  In those days they were all VHS (my grandpa has since then updated to DVD), and I remember going down there with my brother and just looking through all of them.  Mom would come with and we would pick out movies that we wanted to see.  That's how we ended up seeing Indiana Jones and Back to the Future, if I'm not mistaken.  We would take the movies we wanted to borrow upstairs to Grandma, and she wrote down the titles so we wouldn't forget that we had them.  She said that it was like we were renting the movies and we had to remember to bring them back.  And my grandma has the smallest handwriting I know.  Aside from my one friend, but that's another story.  My grandma's handwriting looks literally like a spider strung out its web and curled it around just a little bit to form words.  So basically my brother and I couldn't read it back in the day, but we trusted her.

When I got older, I continued to re-watch the same three trilogies and branch out into other 80s classics including (but not limited to): Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Ghostbusters and The Blues Brothers.  And by the time I got to high school, I considered myself at least semi-knowledgeable on all things movie related.  Well, movie quote related.  As it turns out, I wasn't the hotshot that I thought I was, so I needed to watch more movies, leading to my Watch Before I Die list of movies.  By senior year of high school, I was in a Cinematography class.  Not only were we taught how to make movies and clap the clapboard at the appropriate moments, but we learned about the elements of cinematography and what (artistically) makes a good movie.  I absorbed as much as I could in that single semester, and now I  can't watch a pretty movie (like American Beauty or The Hangover, bet you never thought you'd see those two movies mentioned together...) without gasping, "CINEMATOGRAPHY!"  I kid you not.  I do that.  A lot.  I'm sure my friends get annoyed.  Ah well.

What's weird is that those people who seem closest to the movie fanatics in my life are actually the furthest away from movies themselves.  My grandma, for instance, doesn't watch movies.  She also doesn't read books, but that's another thing entirely.  My dad also doesn't really watch movies.  This is weird to me because if my parents were all about movies, I would be all over them so that I had something to relate to them about.  That, and my mom likes movies so much, I don't understand...did my dad ever take my mom to the movies?!  I wonder...

Q: So what was the last movie you watched?

A: Branching out from my usual 80s movie/chick flick/Netflix Instant Watch, I watched King Kong.  That's right, the 1933 original.  Because I'm just that awesome.

Thank you, Google!

I was watching it for research, actually.  And I have determined that the Loch Ness Monster only appears for a good 5 minutes, tops.  The movie itself was pretty good, this coming from a girl who was raised on decent special effects mostly hailing from the 1980s and being based on Star Wars.  Anyway, the battle against the T-Rex could have been shortened, and Ann Darrow REALLY needed to stop screaming for 10 seconds, but it was definitely worth watching.  I enjoyed it.

"You know what your problem is, it's that you haven't seen enough movies - all of life's riddles are answered in the movies."

- Steve Martin