Movies like this one remind me of my elementary school principle, Mrs. Azzara, who used to say, "An oldie but goodie!"
Yesterday evening I caught How to Steal a Million on one of the movie channels. I love older movies and this is one of my favorites. In fact, it's my favorite heist movie. If you've never had a chance to watch it, Netflix it or something because it's a good one. It's a comedy with Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole set in Paris. Hepburn plays Nicole Bonnet, daughter of a master art forger and O'Toole plays Simon Dermott, a character that Nicole catches in her house one night carrying one of her father's paintings, a forgery, of course.
The basic storyline runs like this: After Nicole catches Simon, she shoots him in the arm and then drives him home because she can't call the police knowing they don't have any real paintings to report or have investigated. Meanwhile, Nicole's father has loaned a work to a museum. All good fun until they learn the museum is about the put it through a proper test. So in order to keep her father from going to jail and herself from having to exile to America to avoid scandle, Nicole enlists her burgalar, Simon, to help her steal back the loaned sculpture. Simon, the master thief that he is, agrees to help.
The best part of the whole movie however, is when Simon confesses to Nicole that he knows they're stealing a forgery. Nicole is flumaxed as to why Simon, clearly a master thief, would help her steal a forgery until he tells her that he loves her. He then, of course, kisses her passionately. This whole scene, incendentally, occurs in the broom closet of the museum while they wait for their plan to go into action. Cozy.
The next best part occurs when Simon confesses that he is not, in fact, a master thief. He is however, a master investigator of forgers. He was breaking into Nicole's house in the beginning of the movie to inspect one of her father's paintings when she caught him red handed and mistook him for a thief. Only, you, as a viewer, have done the same thing. It makes it that much more fun and delicious. It's just like when Simon is looking at the sculpture, a copy of Cellini's Venus, and starts to notice a resemblance between Venus and Nicole and he asks, "Say, just where were you in the early 16th century?" She responds, "I don't know but I wasn't dressed like that!" (Venus has a piece of cloth covering her hoo-ha but that's about it) The story line is so unbelievable but lovable at the same time that you can't help but want to keep watching. O'Toole plays his character so beautifully it makes you want him to want you instead of Nicole Bonnet.
It's a romantic ideal I know, but after watching a movie like this one, a girl can't help but wish for a man like Simon Dermott. It's the same thing that happens to me after Philadelphia Story and Meet Joe Black. Obviously there are some definite negatives to each of those love stories that make them less than ideal were they reality, but for the brief moment that is a movie script, they seem perfect. They ellicit the Mr. Darcy sigh. That same sigh I breath every time I finish P&P.
I know, a very cliche blog, but perhaps a little dose every now and again is healthy.
"Run mad as often as you choose, but do not faint!" Jane Austen
Friday, June 26, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Goonies Never Say Die
In my news perusal this morning, I came across an article that suggested the idea that the Harry Potter franchise might be loosing it's magical touch. The author cited the competition from the Twilight series as the catalyst for what may seem to be a declining audience. Although by the end of the article the author pointed out that she was still a die-hard Potterian, I still gasp in horror that anyone could even suggest such a coup could occur at this point.
Think about it...
Is there honestly anyone out there who would rather go to Forks High School over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? No. Exactly.
Is there anyone out there who would honestly prefer blood over pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs? No. Exactly.
Look, Twilight is new. It's shiny. It's sexy and passionate. Harry Potter isn't sexy, he's heroic and thrilling. Twilight makes it really easy for a bunch of tweeners to swoon and forget about reality while they get sucked into Stephanie Meyer's own personal fantasy world. Because let's face it, Stephanie Meyer is Bella Swan, or rather, Bella Swan's life is the life Stephanie Meyer never lived. Apologies all around if you hadn't figured that one out yet.
But let's break down Bella for a second. Meyer states within the first few pages of the first book that Bella's defining character trait is her strong sense of self confidence. Bella then meets Edward and spends the next three and a half novels worrying that she isn't worthy to be around him, dazzled, and in a constant state of "weak in the knees." Some strong, independent woman.
You could argue that Edward Cullen is Meyer's secondary protagonist. She is writing another version of the books from his perspective, after all. But even if you consider that point, Edward is so controlling of Bella and moody for, well, three and a half novels, that it's a completely unhealthy relationship. Anyone who actually understands the concept of love, real and true love, knows that trusting your other half is a non-issue. Edward claims that his control issues only have to do with himself and his own insecurities, but um, so do most emotionally abusive partners. So I can't really accept Edward's love as 100%. I accept that Bella and Edward believe what they have is honest and total, but it's a very immature relationship on many levels. While a large majority of Meyer's readers want to model their perfect relationships after either Edward and Bella now, I believe, and fervently hope, that a little emotional growth will prove how unrealistic and undesirable an existance that is.
So while Meyer's fans will grow out of their fantasies with her characters. J.K. Rowling's fans will keep theirs for a few simple reasons:
1) Harry Potter is the classic hero, surrounded by complex secondary characters and powerful emotions. There is real loss and real triumph within Harry's story. Who dies in Twilight? That's right, Irina. No one cared about her. In fact, unless you've just finished reading the books, or are some crazy word-nerd, you probably forgot all about her, didn't you? But no one forgets about Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Dobby, Fred, and Snape (and oh so many more)! Readers were terrified by the time the last book came out to read which character they would lose in the final battle. A fear which Stephanie Meyer completely protected her readers from when she debuted Bella's amazing ability to force field everyone around her.
2) Harry defeats Lord Voldemort. A force so powerful ordinary wizards are afraid to even speak his name. Voldemort has forgotten how to love, he has no motivations except gaining more evil, corrupt power. He is Iago and will never be forgotten. Conversely, neither will Harry Potter, their names are linked in many ways.
3) What J.K. Rowling did with her story was to show us how evil can come to exist. Through the books readers traced Voldemort's beginnings back to the boy Tom Riddle and watched in retrospect as he became more wicked and cruel. Readers were able to see the mistakes made by others when they were wooed by Riddle into helping him climb the ladder of power. At the same time, those same readers were able to watch first hand, Harry's own journey as he prepared for his destiny. Rowling delicately wove the theme of maternal love and humanity into each book so that even though Dumbledore gives both readers and Harry the answer early on, it's not until the very end that full comprehension occurs.
That is a true work of literary art. Harry Potter fans will keep their some of their fantasies because Rowling encourages her readers to think big. By the end of her series there is a feeling of excitement and ability. As a reader I wanted to become my own personal Harry Potter and change the world. I wanted to defeat the Voldemorts of today. I still do.
I think it's obvious that because the Twilight series has only recently been published in it's entirety and the movie versions only begun filming for it to seem more popular now. Readers were coming off of the Harry Potter high and were craving a new adventure. It was easy to jump on the Twilight wagon. I don't think Meyer's story would have gained the amount of success that it did without Rowling's series before it. I also have no doubt that in ten years Harry Potter will be considered a classic fantasy hero and Bella Swan will have become a moment in pop culture. And just like the moment when I was able to turn the final page of the seventh book and look back on the whole series with contentment and a sigh of awe, perspective, I believe, will be everything.
Think about it...
Is there honestly anyone out there who would rather go to Forks High School over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? No. Exactly.
Is there anyone out there who would honestly prefer blood over pumpkin juice and chocolate frogs? No. Exactly.
Look, Twilight is new. It's shiny. It's sexy and passionate. Harry Potter isn't sexy, he's heroic and thrilling. Twilight makes it really easy for a bunch of tweeners to swoon and forget about reality while they get sucked into Stephanie Meyer's own personal fantasy world. Because let's face it, Stephanie Meyer is Bella Swan, or rather, Bella Swan's life is the life Stephanie Meyer never lived. Apologies all around if you hadn't figured that one out yet.
But let's break down Bella for a second. Meyer states within the first few pages of the first book that Bella's defining character trait is her strong sense of self confidence. Bella then meets Edward and spends the next three and a half novels worrying that she isn't worthy to be around him, dazzled, and in a constant state of "weak in the knees." Some strong, independent woman.
You could argue that Edward Cullen is Meyer's secondary protagonist. She is writing another version of the books from his perspective, after all. But even if you consider that point, Edward is so controlling of Bella and moody for, well, three and a half novels, that it's a completely unhealthy relationship. Anyone who actually understands the concept of love, real and true love, knows that trusting your other half is a non-issue. Edward claims that his control issues only have to do with himself and his own insecurities, but um, so do most emotionally abusive partners. So I can't really accept Edward's love as 100%. I accept that Bella and Edward believe what they have is honest and total, but it's a very immature relationship on many levels. While a large majority of Meyer's readers want to model their perfect relationships after either Edward and Bella now, I believe, and fervently hope, that a little emotional growth will prove how unrealistic and undesirable an existance that is.
So while Meyer's fans will grow out of their fantasies with her characters. J.K. Rowling's fans will keep theirs for a few simple reasons:
1) Harry Potter is the classic hero, surrounded by complex secondary characters and powerful emotions. There is real loss and real triumph within Harry's story. Who dies in Twilight? That's right, Irina. No one cared about her. In fact, unless you've just finished reading the books, or are some crazy word-nerd, you probably forgot all about her, didn't you? But no one forgets about Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Dobby, Fred, and Snape (and oh so many more)! Readers were terrified by the time the last book came out to read which character they would lose in the final battle. A fear which Stephanie Meyer completely protected her readers from when she debuted Bella's amazing ability to force field everyone around her.
2) Harry defeats Lord Voldemort. A force so powerful ordinary wizards are afraid to even speak his name. Voldemort has forgotten how to love, he has no motivations except gaining more evil, corrupt power. He is Iago and will never be forgotten. Conversely, neither will Harry Potter, their names are linked in many ways.
3) What J.K. Rowling did with her story was to show us how evil can come to exist. Through the books readers traced Voldemort's beginnings back to the boy Tom Riddle and watched in retrospect as he became more wicked and cruel. Readers were able to see the mistakes made by others when they were wooed by Riddle into helping him climb the ladder of power. At the same time, those same readers were able to watch first hand, Harry's own journey as he prepared for his destiny. Rowling delicately wove the theme of maternal love and humanity into each book so that even though Dumbledore gives both readers and Harry the answer early on, it's not until the very end that full comprehension occurs.
That is a true work of literary art. Harry Potter fans will keep their some of their fantasies because Rowling encourages her readers to think big. By the end of her series there is a feeling of excitement and ability. As a reader I wanted to become my own personal Harry Potter and change the world. I wanted to defeat the Voldemorts of today. I still do.
I think it's obvious that because the Twilight series has only recently been published in it's entirety and the movie versions only begun filming for it to seem more popular now. Readers were coming off of the Harry Potter high and were craving a new adventure. It was easy to jump on the Twilight wagon. I don't think Meyer's story would have gained the amount of success that it did without Rowling's series before it. I also have no doubt that in ten years Harry Potter will be considered a classic fantasy hero and Bella Swan will have become a moment in pop culture. And just like the moment when I was able to turn the final page of the seventh book and look back on the whole series with contentment and a sigh of awe, perspective, I believe, will be everything.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Commencement
I have been holding back on this entry for a few weeks to make sure most, if not all, of the high school graduations have passed. Well I can't really hold back any longer so if you still have one forthcoming in your schedule, maybe stop reading now and come back later.
OK.
I can still remember the first graduation ceremony I attended. I'm not talking about those sketchy, "Yay! You're graduating kindergarten!" ordeals. I'm not even really talking about the sixth grade graduation, although I can remember mine and that almost counts. No, no. I'm talking actual pomp and circumstance. I was in both the band and choir in high school and so of course I took part in the graduation ceremony my freshman year. No one told me what to expect because, of course, it wasn't my graduation. No one told me commencement ceremonies are magical.
I can remember watching the soon-to-be graduates file in under cheesy garden trellises in their black polyester robes. The girls awkwardly clomping along because most of them had not learned to properly walk in heals yet and the guys just as awkward because they felt like they were wearing dresses over the dress pants and shoes that usually only saw the back of the closet. I can remember listening to the band play and thinking, "Wow, Pomp and Circumstance is really Pomp and Circumstance!" It was kind of thrilling.
But that wasn't even the magic. The magic occurred later when the commencement speaker took his position at the podium. He was a naval officer, I do not remember his name, but I remember his face. He talked about the adventure of life and why it's an important thing to live life to it's fullest potential. He explained to the graduates that another step in their lives was beginning and how much opportunity they held in their hands. I felt like a firework just before it explodes. When the choir sang, "You'll Never Walk Alone," the song that the choir performed at every James Madison High School graduation, I sang with extra fervor. I felt truly inspired by the prospect of such a magnanimous occasion.
That night I told someone that I was in love with graduations. They told me that when I had attended as many as they had, I wouldn't be so in love. I felt a little crestfallen because I didn't want the magic to ever go away.
It hasn't. I still love attending graduations. I love the pomp. I love the circumstance. I love the traditions and histories that are wrapped up into them. I pour over the program to read about them and I treasure the tingles that always come from great speakers delivering great messages well. Ironically, both my high school and college graduations had poor speakers, a fact which almost broke my heart.
You know where this is going. That's right, one of my life goal's is to be a commencement speaker. That hasn't actually always been the case, despite what you may think. In May of 2007 I attended UNCG's commencement to support and watch many of my friends receive the official words of wisdom. The sentences spilled forth from the lips of one Betty Ray McCain. She maintained a complete balance of perfect anecdotes that wrapped up her points and poignant moments that set them into your flesh with goose pimples. She could move you from laughter to tears and back to roaring laughter without any emotional hijacking, a true talent. Her message was also rooted in the fact that she has in fact lived, and continues to live, every word and belief she preaches each day of her life. So at about the middle point in her speech, when a friend leaned over to me and said, "that's you in fifty years!" I almost peed in my pants with excitement. To become a Betty Ray would truly be an accomplishment.
So if you've been to a graduation this year. I sincerely hope it filled you with the kind of hope and excitement for the future that the very word commencement embodies. If it did not, please go and find a speech to listen to that makes your view rosier. Especially if you've just graduated. Life is meant to be lived. Every moment is your chance to breathe a little deeper, love a little freer, and laugh a little longer.
Betty Ray McCain
J.K. Rowling's speech to Harvard grads
OK.
I can still remember the first graduation ceremony I attended. I'm not talking about those sketchy, "Yay! You're graduating kindergarten!" ordeals. I'm not even really talking about the sixth grade graduation, although I can remember mine and that almost counts. No, no. I'm talking actual pomp and circumstance. I was in both the band and choir in high school and so of course I took part in the graduation ceremony my freshman year. No one told me what to expect because, of course, it wasn't my graduation. No one told me commencement ceremonies are magical.
I can remember watching the soon-to-be graduates file in under cheesy garden trellises in their black polyester robes. The girls awkwardly clomping along because most of them had not learned to properly walk in heals yet and the guys just as awkward because they felt like they were wearing dresses over the dress pants and shoes that usually only saw the back of the closet. I can remember listening to the band play and thinking, "Wow, Pomp and Circumstance is really Pomp and Circumstance!" It was kind of thrilling.
But that wasn't even the magic. The magic occurred later when the commencement speaker took his position at the podium. He was a naval officer, I do not remember his name, but I remember his face. He talked about the adventure of life and why it's an important thing to live life to it's fullest potential. He explained to the graduates that another step in their lives was beginning and how much opportunity they held in their hands. I felt like a firework just before it explodes. When the choir sang, "You'll Never Walk Alone," the song that the choir performed at every James Madison High School graduation, I sang with extra fervor. I felt truly inspired by the prospect of such a magnanimous occasion.
That night I told someone that I was in love with graduations. They told me that when I had attended as many as they had, I wouldn't be so in love. I felt a little crestfallen because I didn't want the magic to ever go away.
It hasn't. I still love attending graduations. I love the pomp. I love the circumstance. I love the traditions and histories that are wrapped up into them. I pour over the program to read about them and I treasure the tingles that always come from great speakers delivering great messages well. Ironically, both my high school and college graduations had poor speakers, a fact which almost broke my heart.
You know where this is going. That's right, one of my life goal's is to be a commencement speaker. That hasn't actually always been the case, despite what you may think. In May of 2007 I attended UNCG's commencement to support and watch many of my friends receive the official words of wisdom. The sentences spilled forth from the lips of one Betty Ray McCain. She maintained a complete balance of perfect anecdotes that wrapped up her points and poignant moments that set them into your flesh with goose pimples. She could move you from laughter to tears and back to roaring laughter without any emotional hijacking, a true talent. Her message was also rooted in the fact that she has in fact lived, and continues to live, every word and belief she preaches each day of her life. So at about the middle point in her speech, when a friend leaned over to me and said, "that's you in fifty years!" I almost peed in my pants with excitement. To become a Betty Ray would truly be an accomplishment.
So if you've been to a graduation this year. I sincerely hope it filled you with the kind of hope and excitement for the future that the very word commencement embodies. If it did not, please go and find a speech to listen to that makes your view rosier. Especially if you've just graduated. Life is meant to be lived. Every moment is your chance to breathe a little deeper, love a little freer, and laugh a little longer.
Betty Ray McCain
J.K. Rowling's speech to Harvard grads
Writing About Wizards Isn't Original?!
If you haven't already heard, someone is accusing Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, and possibly J.K. Rowling of plagiarizing large portions of another author's work into Book 4 of the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. The accuser, Paul Allen, is the estate trustee for Adrian Jacobs, author of Willy the Wizard. I hadn't ever heard of that book either, so I googled it.
Turns out Willy was published in 1987 and is about a wizard who goes to college and goes all waning nostalgic on his readers to tell about his antics as a young wizard. If you want, you can go online to the website that was conveniently set up last October to read some carefully chosen excerpts from the book, which apparently only amounts to about thirty-six pages.
Adrian Jacobs was an English lawyer and stock broker who made his fortune in the market and then lost it after he forgot to take his own advice and invest wisely, dying penniless. His bio however, says that he was unable to manage his money after he suffered from a stroke. Interesting. His bio also says that his son, Joseph, lives in America and already tried making this claim in 2004, so I'm not even sure how Paul Allen fits into the puzzle. Coincidentally, Jacobs still had his fortune when the book was published, (after having already been rejected by Bloomsbury) which I'm going to go ahead and read as, "self funded publishing." Seriously, go read an excerpt, it's bad. It's not even creatively bad. We aren't even talking bad like a certain vampire series everyone keeps insisting on comparing to HP, where the writing is so poor you can hardly stand it but something about the story manages to suck you in like a leech and hold onto you until the end when you're finally able to come up for air and you realize that you have just wasted a weekend of your life reading four books about a whiny, insecure girl and her controlling, insecure boyfriend and the sketchy love triangle between them and an only slightly less obnoxious immature skater/bad ass wannabe that is only resolved through alien procreation and border line incest...
I digress.
The important thing to note is that Jacobs was rejected by Bloomsbury and J.K.R.'s agent, this is where the shady/patchy/ridiculous claim comes in. Allen is claiming that Bloomsbury and said agent kept Willy in a dark closet, only to bring him out again and throw him onto J.K.R. and her book. Apparently the underwater task from Book 4 is too similar to something Willy did in one of his adventures. Apparently only Adrian Jacobs can imagine clues and mer people. Huh.
You know, when I was in seventh grade, I got into this huge argument with this girl over a saying that my friends and I had coined back in the fifth or sixth grade. I heard her using it one day and I said, "Hey, that's our phrase, you can't take it!" She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Um, I totally made that up back in elementary school, like forever ago." To which I replied, "You did not, I made it up at Louise Archer!" We carried on for the longest time over who actually had invented whatever catchphrase was the thing at the time. I felt truly slighted because she wouldn't stop using my expression and she was also taking credit for it whenever someone complimented her on it. Of course, she gave me the same beady, squinty, hateful eyes every time I told someone, "Thank you, I made that up!" It wasn't until years later, when I learned about Darwin, and how he actually wasn't the only person to come up with the theory of evolution, (and I think not even the first person to publish it) but how he's the name we remember, that I understood just how easy it is to simultaneously create an idea. Huh.
Allen's claim is a stretch at the very most. It's also a very obvious Harry-Potter-books-are-still-selling-like-hotcakes-and-I-don't-want-to-have-to-actually-do-anything-to-make-money scheme. Please, J.K.R. has talked, I don't know how many times, about how the whole series was planned out on napkins and scraps of paper for years before she ever received a book deal. The plot points Paul Allen is trying to argue as plagiarized are key elements to Book 4, not something that J.K.R. could have easily written into her story line based on a recommendation from her publisher. Besides, if this whole claim was already kiboshed in 2004, why is it springing up again now? Don't tell me Allen was waiting to purchase the web domain name to make his plea more public and therefore more effective. That must be it. He must have been waiting for the deal to go through and transfer WillytheWizard.com over to a children's book instead of whatever shady industry it may have catered to before...
Whew! Glad we cleared that up!
Turns out Willy was published in 1987 and is about a wizard who goes to college and goes all waning nostalgic on his readers to tell about his antics as a young wizard. If you want, you can go online to the website that was conveniently set up last October to read some carefully chosen excerpts from the book, which apparently only amounts to about thirty-six pages.
Adrian Jacobs was an English lawyer and stock broker who made his fortune in the market and then lost it after he forgot to take his own advice and invest wisely, dying penniless. His bio however, says that he was unable to manage his money after he suffered from a stroke. Interesting. His bio also says that his son, Joseph, lives in America and already tried making this claim in 2004, so I'm not even sure how Paul Allen fits into the puzzle. Coincidentally, Jacobs still had his fortune when the book was published, (after having already been rejected by Bloomsbury) which I'm going to go ahead and read as, "self funded publishing." Seriously, go read an excerpt, it's bad. It's not even creatively bad. We aren't even talking bad like a certain vampire series everyone keeps insisting on comparing to HP, where the writing is so poor you can hardly stand it but something about the story manages to suck you in like a leech and hold onto you until the end when you're finally able to come up for air and you realize that you have just wasted a weekend of your life reading four books about a whiny, insecure girl and her controlling, insecure boyfriend and the sketchy love triangle between them and an only slightly less obnoxious immature skater/bad ass wannabe that is only resolved through alien procreation and border line incest...
I digress.
The important thing to note is that Jacobs was rejected by Bloomsbury and J.K.R.'s agent, this is where the shady/patchy/ridiculous claim comes in. Allen is claiming that Bloomsbury and said agent kept Willy in a dark closet, only to bring him out again and throw him onto J.K.R. and her book. Apparently the underwater task from Book 4 is too similar to something Willy did in one of his adventures. Apparently only Adrian Jacobs can imagine clues and mer people. Huh.
You know, when I was in seventh grade, I got into this huge argument with this girl over a saying that my friends and I had coined back in the fifth or sixth grade. I heard her using it one day and I said, "Hey, that's our phrase, you can't take it!" She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Um, I totally made that up back in elementary school, like forever ago." To which I replied, "You did not, I made it up at Louise Archer!" We carried on for the longest time over who actually had invented whatever catchphrase was the thing at the time. I felt truly slighted because she wouldn't stop using my expression and she was also taking credit for it whenever someone complimented her on it. Of course, she gave me the same beady, squinty, hateful eyes every time I told someone, "Thank you, I made that up!" It wasn't until years later, when I learned about Darwin, and how he actually wasn't the only person to come up with the theory of evolution, (and I think not even the first person to publish it) but how he's the name we remember, that I understood just how easy it is to simultaneously create an idea. Huh.
Allen's claim is a stretch at the very most. It's also a very obvious Harry-Potter-books-are-still-selling-like-hotcakes-and-I-don't-want-to-have-to-actually-do-anything-to-make-money scheme. Please, J.K.R. has talked, I don't know how many times, about how the whole series was planned out on napkins and scraps of paper for years before she ever received a book deal. The plot points Paul Allen is trying to argue as plagiarized are key elements to Book 4, not something that J.K.R. could have easily written into her story line based on a recommendation from her publisher. Besides, if this whole claim was already kiboshed in 2004, why is it springing up again now? Don't tell me Allen was waiting to purchase the web domain name to make his plea more public and therefore more effective. That must be it. He must have been waiting for the deal to go through and transfer WillytheWizard.com over to a children's book instead of whatever shady industry it may have catered to before...
Whew! Glad we cleared that up!
Friday, June 12, 2009
New Project
A few years back I took a metalsmithing class with an art professor at Ferrum College. It was a lot of fun and as a result I have three pieces of jewelry that I rather like which I created. At the time the professor suggested that I try my hand at engraving because she noticed how detail oriented I am and also complemented me on having good muscle control and steady hands. All things needed in good engraving work.
My dad, who used to run a small side business at a hobby jeweler, said he agreed but stressed how much time and practice would be involved before I could actually engrave an actual piece. That really wasn't what turned me off from the idea. He was really more interested in what I would be engraving. Dad is from the era of jewelers and men who made a lot of money and set a lot of stock by big chains and heavy pieces. For example, one of his most prized possessions is a golden toothpick that he either made or had made at some point in his life which used to hang around his neck on a gold chain. High roller type stuff. (Maybe it's in the name, Frank Sinatra does share some similar qualities...)
I, however, was visualizing small, intricate detail work. Words on medallions. Nothing elaborate. The only "big" jewelry I wear are my over sized, silver Tiffany's studs because, well, they're from Tiffany's. They aren't really even that large, they're just my biggest pieces. So, anyway, the end result was that I did not pursue the engraving thing because I wasn't interested in learning how to engrave a money clip or a gun handle.
I bring this up now because for some reason I have decided that I'm going to look into the engraving thing again. We finally have the workshop set up downstairs and no one in particular is using it, so why not me? I know I should be getting caught up on my scrapbooking, quilting, and mending projects. I understand that I have a very important grad school portfolio that is currently unfinished as well as studying for the GRE that needs to be checked off the to-do list. I realize that the basement of my house is practically a sprawling jungle of my post-college-move-back-home-unpack-all-my-other-stuff-for-the-first-time-since-we-moved-here project. But I'm in a mental rut and I want out of it. I feel like a have half the energy I should have these days and I'm tired of it! And since Dad probably has most everything I need to get started, I think why not for now. I will need to order some new china white and some practice disks, and maybe a new extra small graver (I don't think Dad has anything nearly as small as what I'm going to want) but overall the total expense will be small compared to what it could be.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Laura, you don't have any money to be spending period. Go back to the scrapbook and quilting pile, asap!" But I tell you, I need something to spark some creative juices. I keep getting writing ideas and then neglecting to put them down on electronic paper. I don't know why either. I'm not writing for anyone but myself at this point but I'm obviously stuck in a rut that's deeper than the sand bunker on the seventh fairway. Ugh, sorry, I hate to be the whiner. That really wasn't my point in writing this entry. Anyway, engraving, the discussion with the father will occur tonight over dinner, I'll update on how that goes soon.
My dad, who used to run a small side business at a hobby jeweler, said he agreed but stressed how much time and practice would be involved before I could actually engrave an actual piece. That really wasn't what turned me off from the idea. He was really more interested in what I would be engraving. Dad is from the era of jewelers and men who made a lot of money and set a lot of stock by big chains and heavy pieces. For example, one of his most prized possessions is a golden toothpick that he either made or had made at some point in his life which used to hang around his neck on a gold chain. High roller type stuff. (Maybe it's in the name, Frank Sinatra does share some similar qualities...)
I, however, was visualizing small, intricate detail work. Words on medallions. Nothing elaborate. The only "big" jewelry I wear are my over sized, silver Tiffany's studs because, well, they're from Tiffany's. They aren't really even that large, they're just my biggest pieces. So, anyway, the end result was that I did not pursue the engraving thing because I wasn't interested in learning how to engrave a money clip or a gun handle.
I bring this up now because for some reason I have decided that I'm going to look into the engraving thing again. We finally have the workshop set up downstairs and no one in particular is using it, so why not me? I know I should be getting caught up on my scrapbooking, quilting, and mending projects. I understand that I have a very important grad school portfolio that is currently unfinished as well as studying for the GRE that needs to be checked off the to-do list. I realize that the basement of my house is practically a sprawling jungle of my post-college-move-back-home-unpack-all-my-other-stuff-for-the-first-time-since-we-moved-here project. But I'm in a mental rut and I want out of it. I feel like a have half the energy I should have these days and I'm tired of it! And since Dad probably has most everything I need to get started, I think why not for now. I will need to order some new china white and some practice disks, and maybe a new extra small graver (I don't think Dad has anything nearly as small as what I'm going to want) but overall the total expense will be small compared to what it could be.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Laura, you don't have any money to be spending period. Go back to the scrapbook and quilting pile, asap!" But I tell you, I need something to spark some creative juices. I keep getting writing ideas and then neglecting to put them down on electronic paper. I don't know why either. I'm not writing for anyone but myself at this point but I'm obviously stuck in a rut that's deeper than the sand bunker on the seventh fairway. Ugh, sorry, I hate to be the whiner. That really wasn't my point in writing this entry. Anyway, engraving, the discussion with the father will occur tonight over dinner, I'll update on how that goes soon.
Monday, June 08, 2009
The "P" Word
I just finished reading an article by Monique Fields in which she gave her opinion on Disney's legacy of princess films. The article surrounded her opinion on the next establishment in Mickey's closet full of princess friends, The Princess and The Frog, which arrives in theaters this fall. While Fields applauded Disney for their creativity in featuring a black-American princess, the main focus of the article was in bashing the whole concept of princesses in general. The "P" Word. She went on to elaborate on the trials (in her opinion) that a parent has to face throughout the life and process of raising a little girl and the struggle it is to establish to little girls that dreaming of becoming a princess is neither an obtainable goal, nor an acceptable one if it were obtainable.
Really, did she not watch Disney's last princess movie, Enchanted? The "P" word isn't "Princess," it's "Parenting." If Monique was confident in herself as both a parent and a woman, she wouldn't have to worry about her daughter growing up with unrealistic expectations. In her article, Fields worries about her daughter wanting something that she and her husband cannot afford, or trying for something and then failing. I fail to see how this picture is either wrong, unhealthy, or somehow caused by Disney.
Fields also manages to list a whole troupe of names of Disney princesses, and them blames them for giving her daughter false expectations and an unrealistic values of outer beauty. An interesting and not uncommon accusation thrown at Disney. Interestingly enough, however, I grew up with those princesses, and my mother taught me to value them for their personalities and go-get-'em attitudes. She told me that they were so pretty on the outside because their inner beauty was shining through. Cinderella got to where she was through kindness and friendship. Mulan had passion and fought to protect her family. The Princess of next fall wants to follow in her father's footsteps and own a restaurant. These women are not the demure and coy cushion sitters that Fields makes them out to be.
My mother and I had discussions about what made the ugly stepsisters ugly, about why good choices are sometimes hard to make, and about values and morals. We also talked about other characters, like Fivel, the Seven Dwarfs, Mary Poppins, and the Alley Cats. As a kid I learned that it was important to value all shapes, sizes, and colors; not just the princesses. Beauty isn't always about looks, but it can be, and that's OK. Fields wrapped her article up by explaining that she would, "let her ugly stepmother out at the first chance," to explain exactly how the world works to her daughter. I was shocked. To crush a child's fantasy is just as bad as allowing them to fully live in that fantasy for too long.
It made me angry that Monique Fields could publish an article abusing a childhood ideal in this manner simply because [it seems] she either will not or is afraid to take the time to sit down and spend the time with her daughter and establish the whole picture about what being a princess means. It's not all powder puffs and playgrounds. The world is also not all harsh words and failures. She's afraid that her daughter will grow up to be prissy and bossy because she believes in princesses and she's rightfully so. If she doesn't teach her child to value inner beauty and outer beauty in balance, she'll end up with one hateful kid on her hands.
By the by, if you want to read the article for yourself, you can find it here.
Really, did she not watch Disney's last princess movie, Enchanted? The "P" word isn't "Princess," it's "Parenting." If Monique was confident in herself as both a parent and a woman, she wouldn't have to worry about her daughter growing up with unrealistic expectations. In her article, Fields worries about her daughter wanting something that she and her husband cannot afford, or trying for something and then failing. I fail to see how this picture is either wrong, unhealthy, or somehow caused by Disney.
Fields also manages to list a whole troupe of names of Disney princesses, and them blames them for giving her daughter false expectations and an unrealistic values of outer beauty. An interesting and not uncommon accusation thrown at Disney. Interestingly enough, however, I grew up with those princesses, and my mother taught me to value them for their personalities and go-get-'em attitudes. She told me that they were so pretty on the outside because their inner beauty was shining through. Cinderella got to where she was through kindness and friendship. Mulan had passion and fought to protect her family. The Princess of next fall wants to follow in her father's footsteps and own a restaurant. These women are not the demure and coy cushion sitters that Fields makes them out to be.
My mother and I had discussions about what made the ugly stepsisters ugly, about why good choices are sometimes hard to make, and about values and morals. We also talked about other characters, like Fivel, the Seven Dwarfs, Mary Poppins, and the Alley Cats. As a kid I learned that it was important to value all shapes, sizes, and colors; not just the princesses. Beauty isn't always about looks, but it can be, and that's OK. Fields wrapped her article up by explaining that she would, "let her ugly stepmother out at the first chance," to explain exactly how the world works to her daughter. I was shocked. To crush a child's fantasy is just as bad as allowing them to fully live in that fantasy for too long.
It made me angry that Monique Fields could publish an article abusing a childhood ideal in this manner simply because [it seems] she either will not or is afraid to take the time to sit down and spend the time with her daughter and establish the whole picture about what being a princess means. It's not all powder puffs and playgrounds. The world is also not all harsh words and failures. She's afraid that her daughter will grow up to be prissy and bossy because she believes in princesses and she's rightfully so. If she doesn't teach her child to value inner beauty and outer beauty in balance, she'll end up with one hateful kid on her hands.
By the by, if you want to read the article for yourself, you can find it here.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Chick Lit
I'm not in the general habit of reading it. And when I do read it, I'm not in the general habit of admitting to reading it. But times are hard, the funds are low, and I still can't find the box with Book 7. You know which Book 7. That box also has some of my most prized and often re-read novels, including my pocket edition of P&P.
Sigh.
So I'm reading chick lit. Specifically, Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger. Just finished it last week, still chewing it over. It wasn't a horrible read, but it wasn't Prada either. It was definitely better than her second book. Her characters, this time, are more alive and she gives them some good moments. Unfortunately those moments crash and burn with the failure of the plot landscape, or lack there of.
The story is roughly structured around three friends, of which, two make a sort of wager based on self-improvement/self-restraint. There's Emmy, the serial monogamist who (surprise-surprise) breaks up with her cheater boyfriend of 5 years (he dumps her, of course) and must go on a "tour-de-whore" and sleep with a bunch of men. There's Adriana, the Brazilian whore, who would rather you call her raunchy-too-many-too-count hook ups, "affairs" so she feels less like a whore (there is a limit to how many people anyone should sleep with, and I say loosing count crossed the line a long time ago) who must (surprise-surprise) hold down a monogamous relationship for one year. And then there's Leigh, the neurotic control freak, who has the "perfect life" that she's (surprise-surprise) not happy with. Leigh doesn't have anything to give up in the wager because of course, "her life is perfect."
It almost reminded me of high school when the boy trumpet players would bet one another who could go the longest without, well, you know, being teenage boys and play with their teenage personal remote controllers. Called it March Madness - they could only go for a month at the most but at least they had a real wager involved. The women of Weisberger's book didn't even put anything on the table.
In fact, the book really reminded me of those high school boys. The whole book was about sex. But it wasn't sexy, SJP SITC sex. It was flat, not even really funny, horny, 30 year old women agonizing about being 30 year old women sex. Ugh. Not attractive.
Don't get me wrong. Weisberger has talent. It's hidden in there somewhere. Emmy, Adriana, and Leigh all have moments where the reader can look at them and say, "Oh my gosh, I know that girl!" and sometimes even, "Oh my gosh, I am that girl!" and then laugh about it, which is a unique and golden talent in the genre of chick lit. Women are not easy to please and make themselves laugh about their own follies. Trust me, I am one. But perhaps the whole SITC thing has been done, and Weisberger should slant her focus in just a slightly different direction. Or at least, get her plot in gear so that the reader can really languish over those golden moments and not focus on the maze that was Winston's plot debacle. She's got a good voice, but her story keeps getting trampled in the process. I'm interested to see where she goes from here.
Sigh.
So I'm reading chick lit. Specifically, Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger. Just finished it last week, still chewing it over. It wasn't a horrible read, but it wasn't Prada either. It was definitely better than her second book. Her characters, this time, are more alive and she gives them some good moments. Unfortunately those moments crash and burn with the failure of the plot landscape, or lack there of.
The story is roughly structured around three friends, of which, two make a sort of wager based on self-improvement/self-restraint. There's Emmy, the serial monogamist who (surprise-surprise) breaks up with her cheater boyfriend of 5 years (he dumps her, of course) and must go on a "tour-de-whore" and sleep with a bunch of men. There's Adriana, the Brazilian whore, who would rather you call her raunchy-too-many-too-count hook ups, "affairs" so she feels less like a whore (there is a limit to how many people anyone should sleep with, and I say loosing count crossed the line a long time ago) who must (surprise-surprise) hold down a monogamous relationship for one year. And then there's Leigh, the neurotic control freak, who has the "perfect life" that she's (surprise-surprise) not happy with. Leigh doesn't have anything to give up in the wager because of course, "her life is perfect."
It almost reminded me of high school when the boy trumpet players would bet one another who could go the longest without, well, you know, being teenage boys and play with their teenage personal remote controllers. Called it March Madness - they could only go for a month at the most but at least they had a real wager involved. The women of Weisberger's book didn't even put anything on the table.
In fact, the book really reminded me of those high school boys. The whole book was about sex. But it wasn't sexy, SJP SITC sex. It was flat, not even really funny, horny, 30 year old women agonizing about being 30 year old women sex. Ugh. Not attractive.
Don't get me wrong. Weisberger has talent. It's hidden in there somewhere. Emmy, Adriana, and Leigh all have moments where the reader can look at them and say, "Oh my gosh, I know that girl!" and sometimes even, "Oh my gosh, I am that girl!" and then laugh about it, which is a unique and golden talent in the genre of chick lit. Women are not easy to please and make themselves laugh about their own follies. Trust me, I am one. But perhaps the whole SITC thing has been done, and Weisberger should slant her focus in just a slightly different direction. Or at least, get her plot in gear so that the reader can really languish over those golden moments and not focus on the maze that was Winston's plot debacle. She's got a good voice, but her story keeps getting trampled in the process. I'm interested to see where she goes from here.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Food and Fun Filled Weekend
This past weekend was great, really great. Crazy busy, though, which always makes me feel like I need a weekend after my weekend. But I'm dealing.
Friday night Casey called me to say that his post-gov-school-geek-party-throw-down had been canceled and so he was free to give me a lesson on finishing my two pottery pieces. Not going to lie, I was a little bit thrilled about the shin-dig fall through. Jeanne fed me (again) and it was an amazing dinner. One day, when I have my own place, I'm going to invite the Harless family over and feed them in return. (Actually, I thought of something the other day. If I end up moving back to NC, and Charlie goes to school down there, then when they come to visit him they can visit me too!!) Isabella was over spending the night with Layla so we hung out for a little bit before Casey and I went to work downstairs. Jeanne and I are convinced that there is some kind of a time warp in her basement, because again, it felt like maybe an hour, and again, it was about three.
I successfully carved out a foot on my bowl and a shadow line on my mug. Casey had to apply the handle though because by that point I was a little bit tired and goofy and Layla and Isabella had come downstairs and were distracting me. Overall I'm super proud of my work. I think Dad is going to build me my own wheel once I find some plans for him unless I find a cheap used one on Ebay. After we finished we went upstairs to see Jeanne's progress on the tie-dye shirts (she was applying the screen print patches that say "Red Valley UMC") and had a slice of her key lime pie. SO GOOD. Hopefully the youth will make enough money out of this batch of shirts to pay for all of our summer activities.
Saturday we had the choir's year end picnic at my house so I got up early and spent the day getting ready and getting the house ready for that. It turned out to be a great time! Not everyone could make it, which was unfortunate, but also unavoidable this time of year. We had loads of good food (we provided the hot dogs and hamburgers and everyone else was in charge of bringing a dessert or side). I also made the Mojito Mint Torte from the current Season's Best Cookbook. Beth brought a chocolate trifle that she makes with Kahlua and bailey's so we all joked about how our picnic was probably less than "church appropriate."
Sunday was the choir's last day to sing in church and also Pentecost Sunday as well as Graduate Sunday, so a big day all around! I didn't have time to stay for the luncheon after church though, because I had to scoot to Lou's Pampered Chef party. She had a big crowd, about 16 people with a couple outside orders, so it will make for a really great show for her. I'm excited because she's using her show credits to purchase things for her daughter, Samantha's apartment next fall. Samantha will be a sophomore at Radford in the fall. We fixed the Grilled Chicken Penne al Fresco from the current Season's Best and the Chocolate and Peanut Butter Cup Torte from last season's.
When I got back to the house I was so tired from all of my weekend activities that I crashed in one of the living room chairs for about an hour. Then Mom and I took Hank over to let Max out for a little bit. They're funny because Max is really shy and kind of intimidated by Hank (a total first for Hank, I assure you) and so they really just ignore one another.
I completely forgot about the MTV Movie awards, which I'm kind of bummed about. Which is another excuse for me to get a DVR. I'm so new to this living outside of the rock game and I'm really not good at it at all. So I don't know what happened. I have to wait until I get home tonight to watch the Harry Potter and New Moon previews. Oh well, life goes on.
Friday night Casey called me to say that his post-gov-school-geek-party-throw-down had been canceled and so he was free to give me a lesson on finishing my two pottery pieces. Not going to lie, I was a little bit thrilled about the shin-dig fall through. Jeanne fed me (again) and it was an amazing dinner. One day, when I have my own place, I'm going to invite the Harless family over and feed them in return. (Actually, I thought of something the other day. If I end up moving back to NC, and Charlie goes to school down there, then when they come to visit him they can visit me too!!) Isabella was over spending the night with Layla so we hung out for a little bit before Casey and I went to work downstairs. Jeanne and I are convinced that there is some kind of a time warp in her basement, because again, it felt like maybe an hour, and again, it was about three.
I successfully carved out a foot on my bowl and a shadow line on my mug. Casey had to apply the handle though because by that point I was a little bit tired and goofy and Layla and Isabella had come downstairs and were distracting me. Overall I'm super proud of my work. I think Dad is going to build me my own wheel once I find some plans for him unless I find a cheap used one on Ebay. After we finished we went upstairs to see Jeanne's progress on the tie-dye shirts (she was applying the screen print patches that say "Red Valley UMC") and had a slice of her key lime pie. SO GOOD. Hopefully the youth will make enough money out of this batch of shirts to pay for all of our summer activities.
Saturday we had the choir's year end picnic at my house so I got up early and spent the day getting ready and getting the house ready for that. It turned out to be a great time! Not everyone could make it, which was unfortunate, but also unavoidable this time of year. We had loads of good food (we provided the hot dogs and hamburgers and everyone else was in charge of bringing a dessert or side). I also made the Mojito Mint Torte from the current Season's Best Cookbook. Beth brought a chocolate trifle that she makes with Kahlua and bailey's so we all joked about how our picnic was probably less than "church appropriate."
Sunday was the choir's last day to sing in church and also Pentecost Sunday as well as Graduate Sunday, so a big day all around! I didn't have time to stay for the luncheon after church though, because I had to scoot to Lou's Pampered Chef party. She had a big crowd, about 16 people with a couple outside orders, so it will make for a really great show for her. I'm excited because she's using her show credits to purchase things for her daughter, Samantha's apartment next fall. Samantha will be a sophomore at Radford in the fall. We fixed the Grilled Chicken Penne al Fresco from the current Season's Best and the Chocolate and Peanut Butter Cup Torte from last season's.
When I got back to the house I was so tired from all of my weekend activities that I crashed in one of the living room chairs for about an hour. Then Mom and I took Hank over to let Max out for a little bit. They're funny because Max is really shy and kind of intimidated by Hank (a total first for Hank, I assure you) and so they really just ignore one another.
I completely forgot about the MTV Movie awards, which I'm kind of bummed about. Which is another excuse for me to get a DVR. I'm so new to this living outside of the rock game and I'm really not good at it at all. So I don't know what happened. I have to wait until I get home tonight to watch the Harry Potter and New Moon previews. Oh well, life goes on.
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