Five Crazy Confounding Things

At the risk of sounding like a Negative Nelly, there are some things in this world that I simply will never comprehend.


1) Why the word “Saga” is used for the Twilight series

Am I bashing S. Meyer for writing a popular series of books? Of course not. Will I ever enjoy reading or viewing wannabe Teen Wolf battle verbally with a pale, creepy, perpetual teenager? Of course not. Focusing in only on the movies,  somehow “Saga” just doesn’t fit this series…perhaps we might interject “unfortunate continuation”, in its place?

And the whole “imprinting” on a baby thing, by the guy who can’t seem to keep his shirt on? Weird!! And the fact that I know about it? Worse!!

Team Spock all the way!

2) Television with Weak Premises

You know that series, where the bad thing is established in the Pilot episode, then that same bad thing carries the series through five or more seasons, without any new revelations ever really being established? To name this series would be redundant…it’s running rampant through every station, under different names. It’s like the beast that never sleeps.

3) The Media

To watch the news simultaneously fascinates me and gets my blood boiling.  To avoid the stress, I generally avoid the News–although, to get the scoop on the upcoming elections, I’ve admittedly turned to Fox a few times now, my news channel of choice.

I maintain a firm stance on researching all I care to know about on my own time.

However, were this ninja parade actually to exist? …….Epic!

4) Replacing Sebastian Shaw with Hayden Christiansen

You know the very end of Return of the Jedi, when the ghostly images of Anakin, Obi-Wan and Yoda smile upon the Ewok party? While watching this scene in my version of the DVD, I was both shocked and appalled to see that Sebastian Shaw had been replaced by Hayden Christiansen! Anakin died old! Why replace him with his youthful self, if only to say that as a force ghost, he returned to the form he had back before the Dark Side caught hold of him?

This seems to have bothered much more people than just me. One youtuber uploaded the original Anakin ghost, in old man form, just as he should have been kept.

Then again, I break off from the Star Wars Traditionalists to say that it might have been cool had Qui-Gon been put into the end. If we’re going to taint the original scene, why not make it actually work? Qui-Gon is the man who made sure young Anakin would become a Jedi through Obi-Wan. But where would it stop? Pretty soon we would have Padme and the whole Jedi council standing there. Luke would have been so confused.

5) Child Beauty Pageants

I admit, watching Toddlers and Tiaras with my sister and aunt is one of my guilty pleasures. Between the ridiculously priced ball-room gowns made for two year olds, and the weird competitiveness between each beauty queen, this show is horrifyingly entertaining.

So what crazy things confound you?


Shameless Marketing for the Other Blog

Hello, friends.

I believe some of you have seen my book review site,

It’s a wordy URL, I know. Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you would check it out. I recently posted my rather loving review for Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read what I have to say (: You have no idea how much it means to me.

The Jack-haiku?

Pop quiz, kids–what do X-Men,  Broadway Musicals (Oklahoma!), cattle droving and robot boxing matches all have in common? That’s right! DING DING DING. We have a winner!

The answer is–Hugh Jackman!

I must admit, resisting a Jackman film (the clean ones, anyway :p) is difficult. It’s also hard to resist a good Australian accent. But being no great lover of poetry, I found the link below to be simultaneously disturbing and silly.

You can now write lyrical lines for this Australian beef cake. (And possibly win a cash prize of $1000 bucks). Interested? I’m not. But I’ll definitely be in audience of Real Steel, coming out soon to a theater near me.

Dairy and the Brain Blocked Blogger

Writer’s Block. It gets me every time.

Once upon time, there was a Dad, and he was at work. While sitting at his counter, he and his boss saw a scene so absurd it was destined to be recounted a million times at the dinner table, family gatherings, casual conversations with strangers, and, of course, to the wilting ears of his uneager children.

While strolling through the aisles of the supermarket, a rather large lady with a funny hat stopped in front of the Gas-X. Unfortunately, she was too late in her attempts. Clearly unashamed of her own bodily function, she let loose a cry born of dairy, beans and broccoli from the proverbial cheese with the proverbial knife. Did she flinch? Did she hang her head in shame? Nay–instead of tucking her tail between her legs, she raised her head high and announced to every man, woman and child within earshot this now immortal phrase: “Milk–it gets me every time!”

Regrettably, I have been struck with Writer’s Block’s fatal arrow, and it has pierced my very heart. I’m convinced that it’s a disease, and like that unabashed woman’s intolerance to milk products, I have found a great bodily weakness in staring at a blank page.

On a quest to rid myself of this sickness of Blank Brain, I went straight to work blowing my extra cash on Amazon. I purchased several books, all promising a cure to this illness, swearing avidly on their tactics to banish the reader’s lack of thought process.

I read those books. I enjoyed each one thoroughly. But afterward, when I returned to that in the works novel of mine, I found that I had made a grave mistake. Sure, I had memorized lists of how to get rid of the dreaded Block, but I had failed to actually plan the next phase of my plot. I had allowed dispassion to taint the sweet relationship between my fictional story and my heart, forsaking its iffy writing and complicated plot for another writer’s work. I was an adulteress if ever there was one.

So I attempted to amend myself with my book. I tried everything–but it seems even the Fireproof relationship plan could not salvage this love. I gave it daily attention, did nice things for it like adding tables of contents and acknowledgements that I mostly made up, but it’s plot continued to drift aimlessly, and my characters continued to speak in long, complicated sentences that my sister had to get a dictionary out to understand.

There was only one thing left to try. I had to act fast, lest I be tempted by the joys of short story writing or even blogging to avoid my problems. I totally turned things around. I planned out some interesting outings for us, that would hopefully allow us to see eye to eye for once. I stopped bemoaning its lack of historical accuracy, and cross referenced Wikipedia and library books. Some color was beginning to come back into our life together. We were laughing together again at its lame jokes, chuckling at its ironies, and crying together when something lamentable was placed into its pages.

Surprisingly, my frustrations with other projects suddenly liquified into nothingness. I suddenly thought clearly about that Lit composition, could blog with ease and great smugness as I read my own writing. By fixing the root of my problem, the other issues flew away.

So don’t let Writer’s Block get you down. Instead, hold your chin up, and cry out from atop your high horse your pride of the natural functions of life–flatulence and communication.