Gifts

You know, I love the new blog link thing that automatically updates itself so I can tell at a glance who's been naughty and who's been nice. If you don't have it, I recommend it. It's a minor pain in the ass for great payoff. Just click Custmize at the top right of the page, add a page element, and choose Subscription Links.

It's really maximized my reduced amount of blogging time so I can spend more time writing and, most importantly, commenting. I've also been able to take up some reading. Doc, the sweetheart, bouth me a copy of David Sedaris' new book When You Are Engulfed in Flames. It's as wonderful as it sounds. He's the first person since Erma Bomback that made me snort out loud while reading one of his books. I highly recommend it.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I know it's over

And it never really began

But in my heart it was so real

The Smith's

Meet Me At The Border At Midnight...

I can't help it. I've got to go to the midnight sale of the new Harry Potter book. But this time, I've pre-ordered and should have a good place in line, unlike last time. Hopefully, I'll be able to get out of there in good time. I've got class tomorrow morning, but I will be hard pressed not to stay up all night reading the final volume in the series.

My Therapist's Tactics Work!

Mainly, my therapist, Karen, is helping me to reduce the stress in my life, so that I don't spend a majority of my time acting like a cornered lynx. If you know me at all, you know that I'm under a great deal of pressure. All that pressure causes your girl Flannery to flip out, lash out, weep, fret, pace, pick scabs, eat poorly, snap at people and make bad decisions. I've been to therapists before and they've usually been of the type to help me try to figure out what's wrong, which was useless to me. I know what my problems are; I just didn't know how to work through or around them. Usually, when faced with an obstacle I invent a rash and risky strategy and leap before I look. Sometimes that works, but usually, it just compounds my problems.

So I was skeptical when I sat down in Karen's office for the first time. I was preparing to waste time exploring why I was depressed, not how to move on. She started out by determining that I was under a lot of pressure and that we ought to start off by finding ways to reduce some of the stress in order to alleviate some of that pressure. In fact I was so surrounded by pressure, I really was having trouble determining what she meant. She kept saying, "Let's try to reduce your stress." I'd be like, OK, but I don't see how you're going to do that. My stresses seemed huge and out of my control: my work sucked, my commute sucked, my money issues sucked.

The things she told me to do at the first session seemed minor and I doubted that they would do me any good. But in the spirit of progress, I did try a few things and they seemed to work. They worked so well, in fact, that for the second session, I brought paper and pencil and took notes. I've been game to try just about any of her suggestions, but there was one piece of advice I was very reluctant to enact. Karen suggested I read a romance novel and told me it would be a nice way to keep my mind on romance and not lose sight of all that could be torrid/turgid in my life. I have to say, I am baring my soul here, so please be gentle when mocking me in the comments section. She backed up her advice by quoting studies that said women who read romance novels were happier in general.

I smiled and nodded and mentally tossed this idea right in my mental trash bin. I've read romance novels before. I used to work the midnight shift in a print room and I'd get so bored around 3:30 a.m. that I'd root through the drawers looking for anything to read, a pack of gum, instructions for assembling said desk, anything. Fortunately the day shift girl kept a stock of Harlequin romances in the drawer. In my experience, here is the plotline for ALL romance novels.

• Priveledged woman is succeeding in life
• Priveledged woman meets maverick cowboy/artist/Scotsman
• They hate each other at first and/or they fall madly in love
• They break each other's hearts out of stupidity or miscommunication
• They both go back to safer lovers or decide to date that guy/girl his/her mother always favored and nagged about
• A tragedy strikes
• They realize they can't live without each other
• They set sail/ride/fly off into the sunset

Sometimes you could encounter a priveledged man and a maverick woman, but the plotlines rarely varied from this formula. Frankly, I'd rather read the instructions for putting a desk together.

A week or so after she gave me this new suggestion, I found myself at the library with the girls. They were playing in the children's section and I told them I was going to dash over to the audio books to find some books for my commute. This is another of Karen's suggestions: to make sure I always have some book or music to escape to while driving. She also recommended that I make sure my car is my haven. Since I've followed those instructions, my commute has become a dream; it is my time to reflect, to drive, to learn, to be entertained. I now look forward to driving to work.

Anyway, I had to pick quickly since I hate to have the girls out of my sight in a public place. But this library is small and I could hear them over by the audio books, so I wasn't too worried about them. But I did try to choose quickly. I found a Hamish Macbeth mystery, The Death of a Maid, an Agatha Christie mystery, And then there were none, some old Sherlock Holmes radio shows, and, on impulse, Impossible, by Danielle Steele.

It took me a while to get around to listening to Impossible, but eventually I did. I won't go into the plot details here because I can already tell you are too smart for this piece of shit. It was so redundant, it broke all the rules of good writing (and not in a good way), it was predictable, it was clunky, it was stupid. I did not feel more romantic about my life at all. This book pissed me off, insulted my intelligence, and stretched my willing suspension of disbelief until it snapped in two.

But it did do something for me: I now know that my novel will be, if anything, better than Impossible. And you know what? Feeling superior is an aphrodisiac, so I guess in a way, this book did rekindle the fire in my writing loins. As for my other loins, maybe I'll try to find a romance novel with Fabio on the cover.

Unless you have any suggestions?

Violating Code 2.12 Of The APA Style Guide

2.12 Lingusitic Devices

Devices that attract attention to ->words, sounds, or other *embellishments* instead of to ideas are as inappropriate in scientifical scribery as a duck is in a wedding party, unless maybe you are Amish or French (Ooh la la!). Avoid heavy handed halliteration, rhyming, chiming, timing, poetic expressions spoken from the balcony of the summer home you used to go to when your children were tugging at your apron strings, and cliches like they were the plague. Use metaphors sparingly; although they can help simplify, clarify, and disentangle complicated matrices of ideas, in writing, metaphors are Sanjaya's, Anna Nicole Smith's, and bare breasts. Avoid mixed metaphors, especially when business and pleasure are inevitiable, and lock the barn door after the cows have come home. Avoid words with surplus and unintended meaning, (e.g. Dick for Richard), which may distract if not actually mislead the reader to water and try to make him or her drink. Use figurative expressions with the restraint of 10,000 monks under a vow of silence in the middle of a dry, dry desert, and colorful expressions with the care of a surgeon incising the torso of a hot guy with a six pack and thighs of steel; these expressions can sound strained or forced.

After Jessica Simpson Flings The Thesaurus He Gave Her At His Head...

John Mayer can use it to find words to express how regretful he feels:

• sorry


• apologetic


• remorseful


• contrite


• repentent


• conscience-stricken


• rueful


• penitent

Or how he was a big jerk...

• fool


• idiot


• rogue


• scoundrel


• dimwit


• dope


• creep


• heel

Or perhaps he can thumb through it to find ideas for less ill-advised gifts...

• diamonds


• book of poetry


• bath bombs


• flowers


• chocolate


• mazarrati


• a love song


• a spa day


• edible panties

My New Truths

I've been reading Suze Orman's book 9 Steps to Financial Freedom at the behest of my therapist. She seems to believe, and I agree with her, that anxiety about money is the root of my problems. At first, my brain seized up at the very idea. I cannot read about accounting. My head would literally fall off, roll to the floor and down the basement steps where my cat would snack on it for a week. But then I told myself to buck up and give it a try.

So, I borrowed a copy of the book from my Mom and began reading it this weekend. And you know what? It's very engaging. In the beginning, she provides anecdotes of people who freaked out over money and then she wanted the reader, me, to think about, well, me. So, anyone who wants to talk about me with me is automatically my very best new friend.

One of the pieces of advice is to start thinking positively about money. Instead of thinking, "I will never have enough money," or "I can't keep track of my spending," or "Crystal Meth sales are down so much, I'll never be able to pay off my debt to Archibald the Meth King," one should come up with new financial "truths" and obsess on them. Write it down 25 times a day. Repeat it as a mantra when walking the dog or changing diapers.

So, I've come up with a handful and thought I'd bounce them off you all:

1. I am able to support my family and the life that we want to live.


2. I will have the money to go to Bora Bora in French Polynesia and stay on a hut on the water...or to go to Disneyworld and stay at the Polynesian.


3. I will be able to persuade Doc, by hook or by duct tape, to build a spending plan based on the past two years of expenses/income.


4. I will be able to put 200 clams a month into a savings account.


5. I will not need to use credit cards ever again.

What are your truths?

The Best Book Burning I've Ever Attended

When we lived in the country, I often found myself in surprising situations. I had been raised in the suburbs of a small city and my experiences were very middle class, middle-American experiences. So, perhaps those surprising situations were merely surprising to me and probably ordinary to those people who'd lived in the country all their lives, such as:

• It was status quo to own at least one gun and to fire it regularly.
• Many people, particularly men, dipped snuff.
• If someone was in trouble, stranger or no, you got off your ass and helped them.
• Racially insensitive remarks were acceptable in polite conversation.
• It was not unusual to buy a six pack of beer and crack one open on the way home.
• If three or more people are together, a nice roaring bon fire is called for.

These things became ordinary for me too, though I never could get used to the racism. In fact, when my good friend called Martin Luther King, Jr. the n-word, I began my protest campaign. The racist talk stopped after a few of my interventions. Well, at least it stopped happening around me. Please know, though that these folks I knew and spent my time with, regardless of their politics, were truly nice people and fun to be around, for the most part.

When the weekends would roll around, we'd find out from Matt who was going to be where and we headed that way. One fall evening, we were invited to our friends Jamie and April's home for a bon fire. Jamie and April lived in one of a pair of trailers that sat high up on a hill in the woods. Their gravel driveway was very steep and almost unreachable without a four-wheel drive during the winter or when it was very rainy. It was a cozy setting and their home was always warm and welcoming.

When Doc and I arrived that night, it was very dark and chilly. There were already many cars parked on the driveway. We found a place to park and made our way over to the bon fire they were having to the side of the house near the shed. I found April sitting in a folding lawn chair sorting through a box. April is a petite little firecracker of a gal. She is very sweet when she is sober, which is most of the time, but steer clear of her if she'd had a few to many and a bone to pick. This evening, though, she was her true sweet self.

I greeted her and took the folding chair next to her. "What have you got there?" I asked her.

"Oh, a box of books," she said and began to pitch them two at a time on the bon fire.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, my eyebrows nearly leaped off my forehead in shock. She's burning books! Never had I seen a book treated so disrespectfully outside of the movies or TV. Books are treasures to me and I was truly gobsmacked by what I'd just seen her do. I had definately just found myself in a surprising situation again and I was very unnerved. I had visions of Nazi's throwing books onto a fire and sieg heil-ing each other like crazy.

"Yeah," she said, "We cleared out a bunch of stuff from Jamie's parent's house and we found a bunch of these books no one wanted so we're going to burn them." Obviously, she didn't realize the historic implications of what she was doing or the trauma she was causing me.

"Ah," I said, still wary. I began to feel my self-righteousness stirring and began to form a lecture in my head about how books are gateways to other worlds and they bring us new ideas to stretch our minds and that books are sacred and should be treated with respect and so on and so forth. I was just beginning to take a deep breath and start my tirade, when I paused. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I ought to try a more diplomatic approach.

"Can I look through those before you burn them? I like to read and I'd be glad to take some off of your hands for you."

"Sure," she said, "Help yourself."

So I did. I reached in and pulled out a handful of books. I tilted their covers toward the light coming off the bon fire. The first book I looked at was a romance novel, a real bodice-ripper. The next one: a Reader's Digest volume of condensed books. The rest were more of the same. All of them were musty and made my nose quiver with anticipated sneezes.

My self-righteous anger began to cool and my sense of purpose awoke. Now, I have nothing really against romance novels. I've read them and they are a bit of a lark. But, if you've read one, you've probably read them all. Especially these old and tired looking ones. Certainly, I did not want to keep any for myself and I decided that the heat they'd provide us by being burned on such a great bon fire would far outpace the heat they'd generate in anyone's imagination. And Reader's Digest condensed books are almost unholy to me. I mean, I understand that some people aren't devoted readers and would rather not spend a lot of time getting to whatever point the author is trying to make. But, come on! How hard is it to get through a goddamn Grisham book?

"Here," I said, "Let me help you."

I took the books that I had in my hands and pitched them into the fire. And reached down for more. We pitched those books into the fire merrily and watched the blaze grow to ten or fifteen feet as we chatted amiably about other things. Box after box of pulpy trash and abridged travesties sizzled in this great bon fire, which drove away the autumn chill and lit our faces with a golden glow.

Later, when I reunited with Doc, we both shared our experience of being at first horrified by what we saw and satisfied in our participation in the act of burning these particular books. We agreed with each other: Some books are only worth their weight in fuel.

Hedwig Says: Order It Or I'll Bite You!

I've reserved my copy, have you?

Wicked!

I've Been Tagged!

Thanks to my pal, Dirty for tagging me on this. Read her blog. I mean it. She's awesome.

So, my answers...

1)A Book That Has Changed Your Life:

A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving
This book caused me to think about faith and what it means. It provides an example of someone who believes in God fervently and has a brilliant mind, not that these two conditions are necessarily rare...well...in my experience they are rare. It also provided an example of someone who doubted his faith constantly, even defined doubt as part of his faith. There was also a depiction of a character moving from doubt to fervent belief. It was fascinating.

As a novel, it is a fine specimen. The structure and the language are very powerful. I wish I could write like John Irving.

2)A Book That You Have Read More Than Once:

Dirk Gentley's Holistic Detective Agency, by Douglas Adams

In order to appreciate this book to it's fullest, you have to read it twice. Besides, it's funny in that way-out lateral way Douglas Adams always is funny.

3)A Book That Makes You Laugh:

Me Talk Pretty One Day, by David Sedaris

When my mother-in-law passed away suddenly around Christmas in 2003, Doc and I found ourselves tramping back and forth between Cleveland and Newark (Ohio), a 3-hour trip, for the funeral and calling hours. We had quite a lot of time on our hands, which we filled by reading the above book aloud to each other. My cousin, Amy, recommended it to us and I had bought it as a Christmas gift for my brother-in-law. We had it with us, we were bored, I had found out that Rick really wasn't much into reading, so I busted it out and we read it to each other. This book made us laugh in the middle of mourning; I'd say that's a strong recommendation.

4)A Book That Makes You Cry:

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

I'm a total Harry Potter freak. I stood in line to buy The Half-Blood Prince book at midnight on the day it was released. Doc and I read OOP aloud to each other. By the time we found out that ::spoiler:: Sirius died, we just lost it. What a blow to Harry! Damnit...it still makes me very sad.

5)A Book You wish You Had Written:

A Son of the Circus, by John Irving

I am also a John Irving freak. I believe this book is underrated; it should be way more popular than it is. I wish I had written it because I would have had to travel to India, do the research and spend my days writing the funniest serial killer mystery ever. Alas...

6)A Book You wish Had Never Been Written:

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkein

I don't get these books. I've never enjoyed them. I've read them, though. I liked the second book best because it seemed like they all might just perish. If I had a nickel for every moment I've spent listening to people extole the virtues of these long, rambling tomes, I'd be a rich woman, let me tell you...

7)A Book You've Been Meaning To Read:

Sustainable Leadership, By Andy Hargreaves and Dean Fink

It sits here on my desk unread. I saw Andy Hargreaves speak at a conference last July and he was fantastic. I just can't seem to crack the cover.

So, now I tag Big Orange, a jolly bibliophile if there ever was one, and Madame E, because she always strong and sassy opinions that fill me with mirth. And, while I'm at it Doc, since he claims to be in a slump right now; it'll give him something to write, I'd also like to hear what he has to say.

Which Witch: Mary Poppins and Harry Potter

Having viewed Mary Poppins for the nintey-third time since Christmas and having listened to and read all the Harry Potter books over and over trying to make it easier to wait for the newest edition, I have noticed what seems to be a shared mythos. There are similarities in the way magic works and in the way the magic users behave. Similarities abound, in fact, if you look closely. And believe me I have. I no longer enjoy either for the plot; I can't anymore. I've just seen the movies/read the books, too many doggone times. In order to enjoy either one of them, I feel the need to start looking at structure, dialog, and the rules for their worlds.

First of all, both stories are set in England. Both have a shared cultural flower bed, so to speak. But I do believe Rowling is standing on the shoulders of giants, when she writes about her magical world, building on legends that preceded her work. I think what makes the Harry Potter series so enchanting is that, although there is a new and wonderous magical world for us to explore, it doesn't stray far from traditional stories and legends. It's both new and familiar. Exciting and non-threatening.

But beyond the familiar traditions, there are other similarities. Let's start with the chimney. While watching Mary Poppins with my daughter for the ninety-third time, I started thinking about Floo Powder and the Floo network. This is how wizards and witches travel in Harry Potter, but in MP, magical chimney sweeps fly up them, dance across the roof tops. They seem to recognize and know who MP is and what she is capable of, just like Bert does. They also seem capable of a bit of magic themselves, not the least of which is dancing together without appearing gay. At any rate, chimneys=magical transportation in both stories.

My friend, Big Orange, (check out his blogs: the whimsical one and the serious one) and I were talking on the phone last night and he brought up Bert. He wondered if he was a witch of the lower arcana or some other big word. I immediately chimed in with my theory that Bert is like a Squib in the Harry Potter series. He knows about the magical world, he seems to live and work among the witches and wizards, and he seems to have a sixth sense about the approach of Mary Poppins. He knows what she can do, but can't do it himself. He is sort of what the non-magic people in MP might call a denizen of the fringe or a "marginal person." I've heard Roland Barth speak about the marginal. He explains that marginal people actually have a lot of power of a different sort because they not only inhabit the culture of the "normal" or dominate culture, in this case the muggle world, but they also live in the subdominate culture of witches and wizards. Just like HP, Bert acts as a guide and translator for the uninitiated in both cultures. He has power because he has knowledge of the rules and languages of both cultures and could use that knowledge for good or evil. Bert uses his power for good, or at least for kicks.

There are other magical folk in the MP story. It is interesting to view them doing what they do in the context of the story, but more interesting is how the muggles interact with them. Here are the characters who I believe are also magical:

• Admiral Boom
• Uncle Albert
• The Bird Lady
• Mary Poppins, of course

Admiral Boom

Admiral Boom has the power of Divination; he can sense storms brewing in the Banks's home and even goes so far as to warn Mr. Banks that he's in for quite a ride. That Mr. Banks ignores his warnings outright, in fact responds with a completely automatic, "Yes, yes, very good!" when the Admiral details his doom, tells of a denial that rivals even the Dursely's. The Dursely's are conciously in denial, though, while Mr. Banks is too wrapped up in being impressed with himself that he wouldn't recognize a prophesy of doom if ran up to him and peed on his shoes.

Mr. Banks is not the only one oblivious to the powers of Admiral Boom. No one in the story remarks on the oddity of Admiral Boom's home. Why does no one complain about the cannons? Does the architechture not scream: madman who's taken too many booms to the head? This oddity seems to be inexplicably ignored by the people who inhabit this story. Perhaps there is some form of "does-not-compute-ism" and muggles just can't deal with magic on any level. Maybe, as in HP, Admiral Boom's house is magically cloaked like the Ministry of Magic building or St. Mungo's Hospital. These buildings in HP are intentionally being cloaked, but maybe being magical in MP's world is enough to disguise them from the muggles, whether this is intentional or not. I think Admiral Boom's state of making so little of an impression on others is not intentional on his part as he seems to be doing everything he can in order to be noticed.

Admiral Boom is the source of time. Bert comments early in the movie that the world gets the time from Greenwich, but Greenwich gets the time from Admiral Boom. You may have noticed that Mr. Banks questions the authenticity (and therefore authority) of the time Admiral Boom presents as 6:00 p.m. He actually says, "a bit early this evening, aren't we Admiral?" This, I believe, is another cue to let us know how out of step with the magical Mr. Banks really is. How does Admiral Boom calibrate the correct time? Is his home full of magical gadgetry? I have a feeling he and Dumbledore are probably on the same mailing lists.

Uncle Albert

Uncle Albert is a wizard of the prankster variety, ala Fred and George. He may even represent a sort of addict in the magic world. He cannot control his compulsion to laugh and he wants others to join him. Replace laugh with alcohol and suddenly it is not so funny. Actually, MP is very exasperated when she learns Uncle Albert is on the ceiling again; she learns this from a dog, I might add. Just as it is when you first meet a drunk: they are the life of the party. Then, it gets old, especially when you are called on time and again to rescue this poor sod.

Here, Bert is involved again, but rather than magiking Uncle Albert down, which MP could probably do, he has to counter the hilarity with sadness. This counterspell, if you will, remindes me of the Patronis spell which counters Dementors in HP's world. These Dementors bring about great sadness to their victims. A Dementor attack is described as feeling like you will never be cheerful again (kind of like the way clinical depression feels). The only way to protect yourself is to access the most wonderful memory you have and use it to ward them off. Parallel stories, but oppisite I think.

The Bird Lady

This woman is someone who MP admires very much. I'm not really sure why and I'm not sure if the story is not clear about it or If I just start to fade at this point in the movie. Perhaps the Bird Lady is akin to Hagrid: she has a special commraderie with animals. Maybe she was an old teacher of MP and showed her how to speak with and understand animals. She is also virtually invisible to Mr. Banks, who when compelled by his children, squints across the plaza to register her presence and then to denegrate her importance. Hagrid has a similar effect on muggles. Again, I'm sure there is a point to all this "feed the birds" nonsense, there must be to carry snowglobe around depicting the scene, but it is lost on me. Perhaps I can't see the magic. Perhaps it is merely a plot device to cause tension between the bankers and the children: the most opposite of opposites that ever opposited.

I would like to talk about the bankers. They are very similar to the goblins in HP in their dress and demeanor. That's all.

Mary Poppins

This woman, in the language of Harry Potter's world, is most definately a witch. She is handy with potions (see the customized cough syrup). She can charm objects into movement (see cleaning the nursery). She can fly/levitate. She can speak with animals, she can carry many items of a wide variety of sizes in her carpet bag, even the illogical floor lamp. She can also charm people. She can get overexcited children to sleep with one song. One song. It takes me two stories and 5 songs to get mine to sleep. The entire Banks household, excepting of course Mr. Banks, are cheered by her presence. They are captivated by her spell. Mr. Banks suspects her of bringing chaos into the order of his home, which is true, I guess. It's more of a revolution against his rule of law and order, I think. He hasn't yet learned the lesson that being joyful is better than being in control of everything. I suspect that she is the best Nanny Witch there is.

In HP's world, however, I'm sure she would have to answer to Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office over many of her actions. Although, she does a good job of covering up her powers to the muggles by denying that any of it ever happened and writing it off as childish fancy, even to the children she experienced magical things with. Really, who would believe a child over the nanny in those days? She is a very powerful witch and does some amazing things. I wonder if she appears on any of those Famous Witches and Wizards cards you get with a Chocolate Frog.

She and Harry are parallel but opposite. She is accomplished in her craft and in her culture. He is just learning both, although he has great potential, especially in defense against the dark arts. She is respected and above reproach. He is respected by a small circle of people, famous to many, but easily scapegoated. She is very good at potions, Harry is not so much. She has confidence, poise, and vanity. Harry doubts himself and wishes to blend in more. Although he can get caught up in himself, I seriously doubt he would ever refer to himself as "Practically perfect in every way."

As you may be able to guess, I have been driven to comparative literature through shear repetition. The appitite of a three-year old to see something again and again knows no bounds. As I make deeper grooves in my memory of the fairy tales and legends I see repeated in their many shapes and sizes, I continue to be amazed by the creativity. Just as Tolkein started with his home and built a legend for his country, so did Rowling. She used her home, late 20th century England and picked up the legend and turned it like a kaleidescope. The messages are the same in these works: goodness and joy and fun are more important than work and rules and compliance or blind alligience to authority. It's really quite fascinating and I'm even more impressed with her work as I start to look at its structures.

Either that or I'm just going batty with the reruns.

By the way, I'd like to leave you with this syllogism:

• Most stories are written by creative people.
• Most creative people don't care much for rules and the people who follow them.
• Therefore, most stories contain lessons such as: break the rules, play, thumb your nose at authority, express yourself, etc., etc.