Archive for August, 2009
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Why so many blog posts in one day? Because I’ve been wicked slacking. Some time ago you may remember that I entered into this little agreement with the rest of the Blogenning crew… and about 7 posts in, I completely shit the bed.
Since then, I’ve done basically everything but write blog posts.
I’ve:
* Gone to see the only thing on earth older than the late Eunice Kennedy-Shriver
* Learned that my cats really are capable of anything
* Taken a road trip
* Read/listened to something like six books (two are even review worthy)
* Seen a fabulous play
In other words, I’m going to catch up on these blog posts in the most ridiculous manner ever, all while eating dinner. Much like our beloved Red Sox, every three quarters of a century or so, I decide to pull it out of the fire and do some winning. I didn’t even have to get jacked on contraband joy-juice to do it. My original aim was all 12… but it’s late and I’m tired.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: australopithecus afarensis, dinkanesh, ethiopia, evolution, history, lucy in the sky with diamonds, lucy's legacy, new york
We went to New York this past weekend, and I had the nerd moment of all nerd moments while driving into the city.
We’re coming down the Cross-Bronx Expressway on our way to get lost in the Greek section, and what do I see but a 10,000 ft. billboard of the oldest, deadest monkey you’ve ever seen in your life. “Lucy’s Legacy”, an exhibit of Ethiopian and evolutionary history, was running at the Discovery Times Square Expo.
“LUCY!!” I shouted and pointed.
“Oh! Lucy! Well why didn’t you say!”
Who the frick is Lucy, you ask?
Lucy - also known as Dinkanesh, or Australopithecus afarensis for you really technical knobs - is the best-preserved fossil and best-known example of the bridge between “monkeys” and “people”. Lucy was discovered in Ethiopia in the early 1960’s, looking remarkably fresh-faced for a girl who had been in the ground for 3.2 million years, give or take.
I was giddy… and I mean stupidly nerdfaced giddy over the chance to see a piece of history that I’d only read about in my ancient studies classes. She is technically the property of the Ethiopian government, on special loan for a tour around the US before heading back to her native soil, supposedly forever. She’s around until October 24th if you’d like to go see her.
My favorite tidbit on Lucy is how she came by her name. As the story goes, the team of scientists tasked with cleaning and studying Lucy were listening to the then-brand-new “Sgt. Pepper’s” album by the Beatles. Lucy is named after the track “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”. Bring that one to your next cocktail party. You’ll slay with that bit of trivia. Better yet, successfully use Australopithecus afarensis (OSS-tra-low-PITH-ick-us aff-ah-REN-sis) in a sentence… you’ll drive the archaeology groupies wild.
Even though my mother looked at Lucy and said “Hm. Yup. Looks like a bunch of dead monkey bones to me” in front of the mildly amused curator, meeting Lucy in the umm… err… flesh was quite as awesome as I’d hoped it would be!
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 2 Comments
Tags: cuddly kittens, cute kitten stories, kitties, laundry disasters, lessons, other SEO-friendly web tags that will get me hits, regrettably mauled candy, spray bottles
Eddie and I recently became the pet-parents of Indiana and Jaws, two precocious little darling kitties who have filled our life with laughter and some very interesting new stories. You really don’t know how much you can love until you’re chasing something small and adorable around with a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels.
Indiana
Jaws
Here are some recent lessons we’ve learned from our two girls:
Trash Tastes Good… but it also means tummy war.
Every once in a hundred years or so, Haley’s comet makes a pass at this area of the universe, and I clean the fridge. This time, one of the main attractions in the trash bag was chicken that had… let’s say passed its optimal eating stage. I’m not proud.
In one shot, the two cats had launched a synchronized attack on aforementioned trash bag. Before I could yell “NOTRASHCATSDONTEATTHATITSTRASH!!!” they had gummed some tasty dead carcass.
The next morning, the piper came in search of payment. Let’s just say that I’ll never again look at a Jackson Pollack in quite the same way again. Refer to above spray-bottle mention above for further details.
Treats of Every Hue
Treats can be socks, the toes in socks, the trash (see above) or things in bags that look nothing like fishies or mice. I learned quickly that one never leaves anything on a counter that is not made of concrete and housed in steel. The girls WILL get in. I learned this the day I came home to find something truly horrifying waiting for me at the front door.
It was beige. It was slimy. It may or may not have ever had a pulse. It had quite obviously been on the receiving end of some rather vigorous attention from either one or both of the cats.
I stared at it for a while. I stared at it for another long while. I thought back to the chicken of the previous night. It is beige… and gross. And- beige.
THANK GOD. It was Thornton’s Clotted Cream Fudge. My two kitties, with their talons as sharp as the tongue of an Italian grandmother, had surgically removed the contents of a previously intact bag of the delectable English candy. Having mouthed it for a bit in a contemplative fashion, they came to agree that there was nothing much to the stuff and left it for me to dispose of.
They moved on to my Hobnobs shortly after, but having neither opposable thumbs with which to make dunking gestures, nor milk in which to dunk, they simply shredded the sleeve of cookies open, had a good gander at it, and left to go battle around the world.
Any Port in a Storm
Jaws has decided that her refined nose and paws must not touch any box of litter previously pooped in. Ever. Poop is of course poop, and it’s simply far below her station to poop (or anything else) somewhere that poop already resides. This means that Ed and I now live in fear of missing a poop in the boxes of doom.
Jaws found a much better solution to the problem yesterday however. Seeing that poop existed where she usually drops in, she went looking for an alternative.
In her defense, an almost-empty laundry basket DOES sort of look like a giant litter box.
I’m reading in bed, when I hear ::::scritch scritch scritch::::
Couldn’t be……….
OH but yes. It is.
She’s peed on my clothing. She is now attempting diligently to cover it with thin air. So it goes.
Final score: Jawsie 1, Ma’s undies and pillowcase, zip.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | No Comments
Tags: fame and fortune, new york city, staten island ferry, statue of liberty
With Claire visiting for three weeks, we’ve been doing a lot of great traveling that we otherwise never take the time to do. This past weekend, we packed up the car and took off for the Big Apple to check out the sites and be tourists for a few days. The highlights of the trip? We found fame on the streets of the city, and fulfilled a 20-year-old goal (heavy, right?)
First, we became television stars.
Radio Shack was doing a “Summer Netogether” show in Times Square, which was basically a giant LCD that looked like a laptop, networked to a live feed of another location in San Francisco. Basically, anyone who passed by with their courage card handy could dash up on stage and jaw with the guy holding the microphone, and chat as well to the OTHER microphone man three time zones away. It all got broadcast on the net for the entertainment of the faceless masses. No. I will not post the link 
I was the target of the first volley, as my Beatles shirt invited a little impromptu trivia. New York Guy asked me if I were really a fan or just wanted to wear the shirt for cred. Of COURSE I’m really a fan. Only douches wear shirts for bands they don’t like. He asks me what my favorite song is. This week it’s “Goodnight” but I answered “Something” for lack of brain cells at 8:30 am. Both ridiculously good songs. San Fran Guy bet me I couldn’t name all four Beatles without saying “Um.” He lost that bet. Good thing I wasn’t wearing my Grateful Dead shirt or I would have been hosed. They had like fifteen drummers who kept biting it of random and sundry addiction issues. I only remember Pigpen and that’s because he lasted longest. Jerry and Phil, of course… but the fourth guy, the bassist? No idea. I know Jerry had a groupie/lover named Mountain Bird or some crap… Guess that wouldn’t have counted.
Of course, once the realized Claire was from the green rock across the pond, Missy and I could have beaten dead Bobby Fischer at chess and they probably wouldn’t have noticed. They asked her all the bar-room questions an unimaginative guy asks when he meets a pretty foreign girl: What’s the weather like over there? Which prince is hotter, Harry or William? Or is David Beckham hotter?
Then they asked, “Where is Stonehenge?” What the hell Ben Stein, are we going to win your money?? We had no clue. I went for “Cornwall” because it’s just recognizable and plausible enough that it will move the conversation along… they took the bait.
The pinnacle of the conversation came when a half-baked Gary Busey look-alike wandered onto the San Fran set and mumbled for a while as we marveled at his epic mane of straight blonde hair. San Fran Guy yanked on it to make sure it wasn’t a weave, and then in retaliation, he asked New York Guy to tug on Missy’s hair to make sure IT was real.
It was.
Convinced of this, Gary decided it was time to ramble on down the road, and left San Fran Guy with a lapel pin bearing the words “I <3 wise latinas” Apparenly he was a Sotomayor fan. We never actually found out what the hell it meant.
The next afternoon, history was made. I finally got to meet The Lady.
The story of The Lady starts back in 1987 or so, when a family trip took us through New York City. My 5-year-old self was pretty excited about the chance to see a giant verdigris-decorated lady with a torch. I didn’t even mind that she was French.
The plan was to swing in on The Lady on the way home, but as many Nelson Family Adventures ™ go, it didn’t exactly work out as planned.
Missy got HORRIBLY throwing-up sick during lunch on the way to see The Lady, and it became obvious that we would not be making the predestined rendezvous.
This was thoroughly unacceptable to my 5-year-old self.
I basically cursed my sister out for screwing up my vacation plans, bellowing and sobbing “I wanna see THE LADDDDDDDYYYYYY” in my keening wail of a voice (some things never change.)
It’s now 2009, and WE GOT TO SEE THE LADY!!! Sunday morning we took the Staten Island Ferry and took a little sail past Lady Liberty herself. For anyone who doesn’t like to spend $40 climbing stairs into the head of a stola-wearing Parisienne transplant, the ferry is free and takes you within a nice view of the Statue.
Now all we have to do is take Missy to Space Mountain and kick He-Man’s ass, and all childhood wrongs will be righted.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | No Comments
Tags: Book Reviews, chuck hogan, guillermo del toro, the strain, vampires
I’ve been on somewhat of a vamp-story kick lately.
I picked up Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan’s “The Strain” on Kindle a few weeks ago, and decided to spend 4th of July weekend on an air mattress with our new kitten catching up on my reading.
“The Strain” is a vampire horror-survival novel in the classic sense; Think “Outbreak” meets “28 Days Later”. If you’re looking for aristocratic vampires a la Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer, better to look elsewhere.
The O-Positive:
“The Strain” feels a bit like a really-out-there episode of CSI, with the lab science nerds getting plenty of airplay, and the scientific (albeit sci-fi) elements of the infection being interesting enough to keep you reading. While the story remains true to some of the more ingrained elements of the vamp mythos (sleeping at night, sun-burning easily, wiggling into your thoughts with slippery telepathic ease) there are some new angles to the creatures. Without spoiling anything, the new “delivery method” and blood-sucking mechanics are enjoyable for what they are.
The narrative is interesting. POV bounces around a lot - to Eph, to shady bad guy, to original infected victims - but it never seems distracting or gimmicky. We get a broad view of what’s going on in the world as the vamps take over and people start getting nibbled.
The O-Brother:
While the story has a lot of interesting scientific elements, it gets into some rich-guy conspiracy and secret-order whisperings that are potentially lip-smacky, but never quite pan out in the end. I get that this is Part I of a trilogy, but if you want my other $20 you’re really going to give me a little bit more. We get some soggy backstory about the major-league vamps (called Ancients. Yawn.) We also get some really promising Bruce Campbell quirky hero vibes from main character Eph, but in the end I don’t find myself holding my fists to my heart and keening for the next installment to come out. I’ll still BUY the next one, just to see if the next one pulls it out of the fire, but based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m not particularly convinced that it will.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | No Comments
Tags: aravind adiga, book review, booker prize, caste, india, the white tiger
Aravind Adiga became one of a few Indian authors to win the Man Booker Prize in 2008 for is first novel, “The White Tiger.” After reading “Brick Lane”, and having enjoyed “The God of Small Things” so many years ago, I decided to pick up the audio version of “Tiger”.
The novel is a great read, and the audio version was very well acted. I always appreciate a narrator that sounds like he’s supposed to! This of course would seem to go without saying.. but some narrators… don’t get me started.
Set in modern day Delhi, “Tiger” is at once a commentary on the incredible disparity between the rich and poor in India, and the massive opportunities that are flowing into the nation as it becomes more competitive with western society.
Balram, the main character of the story, is at once a cold monster, and a funny, charismatic and sympathetic character. The tale is spun in such a way that by the time you realize what Balram really is, and how he was crafted into a murderer by his situation, it’s too late: You’re amused by him. Shocked, embarrassed… but amused. He approaches the narrative with a sarcastic wit that at once acknowledges the inequities of the world, and laughs at the concept of it being any other way. From the most grim level of poverty, he comes to be employed in an occupation that surrounds him with precious and marvelous things he cannot have, cannot even touch. Experiencing the world through Balram’s perspective, one appreciates the cold smell of air conditioning and leather in the sweltering city, and marvels at the pristine shopping malls and homes which have sprung up like mushrooms in the dirt of the crammed city.
Although caste is never expressly discussed in the novel, one experiences caste prejudice as a native might: as a pervasive, subtle reinforcement of the concepts of “Them” and “Us.” When reading “Tiger”, life happens when the rich are not around. The red teeth and smutty magazines of the drivers, the huddle of men accustomed to having no place to sit, the cubicles in which one sleeps when one does not come from the proper genes, they all lay the weight of caste upon the reader’s shoulders for a few hours, and make one aware that birth in India can be fate. Through all of this, we get the tandem feeling of Balram’s self-perceived superiority, that he is the one laughing at a joke the rich don’t really get.
Overall, “Tiger” is a great read, and well-deserving of the Booker. I look forward to Adiga’s next work and hope that it will be as well-delivered and socially conscious as “Tiger” has been.
By Belynda, August 12th, 2009 in Other | 1 Comment
Tags: amato theatre, dj spinelli, ghostlight theatre, john kneeland, local theatre, play, reviews, suburbia, Taryn Cagnina
I had the pleasure a few weekends ago of going to see the Ghostlight Theater Company production of SubUrbia at the Amato Theatre in Milford, NH.
SubUrbia is sort of an interesting commentary on how a lot of young people view the world in which we live. Set in front of a convenience store (the set for which is an actual quick-stop style corner store with stocked shelves and a cash register!) the story follows a few days in the life of a loose group of friends as they deal with their desires and the burdens of living in small-town America.
The struggling couple, the recovering under-aged drinker, the funny-guy jock, the young and disillusioned military man, the earnest immigrant family all smack of people we know, in some cases someone we know better than anyone else. About the only person hard to relate to is “Pony”, the now-rock star, the one who “made it.” A visit from Pony (rolling up in an overblown limo) stirs up emotions ranging from distaste to jealously to hero-worship, creating the undertone that carries the play through to an explosive finish. Pony represents everything that irks us about the new generation of fame-based affluence. His persona comes off as incredibly trite, playing the sentimental card since the cynical haze of the 90’s has worn so thin for us.
One would be hard-pressed to pick a “stand-out” member of the cast. Each player carried their own weight, and formed a true-to-life picture of friendship and suburban malaise in middle America. “Tim” (played by John Kneeland) is surly at best, and frightening at his worst. In the interest of full disclosure.. John is my co-worker’s son, but there is no favoritism when I say the delivery of his role was dynamic, and at times downright unnerving. Behind the scenes, John is the nicest kid you’d ever want to meet: gracious, easy-going and funny. Put a prop beer in his hand, and a script in his head, and you’d never recognize him. He makes Dr. House look just plain cuddly.
Where “Tim” scares the hell out of us, “Buff” (played by DJ Spinelli) is the court jester of the group. Caffeine-and-Oreo fueled, ripped to shreds in a wife-beater shirt and Timberland boots, Buff is the quintessential comic relief, constantly riffing on beer, grass, women, and laymen’s politics. Buff takes the edge off of the tension provided by Tim and the rest of the cast by engaging in “anything for a laugh” antics, up to and including dry-humping the ice-cooler in a drastic display of sexual tension and upper-body strength. He is the prankster, the kid we all adored in school, but now out of the small-pond limelight, he finds himself good for little else but amusement. Buff is the Fool of the tarot deck, eternally optimistic and wide-eyed, and that’s why we love him so much.
Some of “SubUrbia” can be hard to take. A performance art diatribe on the part of “Sooze” played by (Taryn Cagnina) was a bit discomforting, (if only because I had brought my mom to the play.) The piece however, illustrated how young artists and thinkers are pushing boundaries far beyond what would have happened even ten years ago, if only to be heard in a time that Warren Ellis describes as “The last days of the Roman Empire.” In a world where very little is taboo, one must step far outside of the social norm to register on the Richter scale. Sooze does this quite well, and it speaks to her utmost desire to break out of her suburban life entirely.
All of these cliches and trivialities, as entertaining as they are, are reduced to ashes in the final grim moments of the play. The ending renders all social roles and prejudices useless, and leaves the audience with the stark realization that the masks we wear are largely hollow monuments.
This effect could not have been carried so well without the support of an exemplary cast. Being a frequenter of the Merrimack Rep and other local playhouses, I could not have been more impressed by the show put on by the group. A great cast can make one feel as though they are not watching a play but living for a time in a world not their own, and this cast accomplished this feat with grace.
This fall, we will be treated once again to some fine performances by Ghostlight when “Three Wise Men” premiers at the Ghostlight, written by John Kneeland. If John’s writing skills are commensurate with his acting skills, we’re in for a real treat.
By Belynda, August 4th, 2009 in Other | 3 Comments
Tags: 8-4-07, lucky, Mrs. Cianci, wedding
…I marry my best friend.
Happy anniversary my darling! I love you!
By Belynda, August 3rd, 2009 in Other | 3 Comments
Tags: clickbait tags, credit cards, Deb Ng, elance.com, freelance writing, laziness, What I did with my summer vacation..., Writing
In the first of a nine-part series about what I’ve been up to for the last three weeks, I’m going to talk about my adventures freelancing… or at least my adventures in bidding on freelance projects, designing some very rock’n'roll business cards, and buying a sparkly, shameless new domain name to hawk some literary goods.
I decided recently that while I love writing long-form fiction, it’s unreasonable to assume that my novels will be international best-sellers within the next year, or even that they’ll be sufficiently edited to see the light of day (that’s important, too.) With that in mind, I decided I’d like to start slinging articles on the downlow to make some cashymoney, stash it away for that little single-family I’ve had my eye on.
Away! To the Intertoobz for some getfilthyrichery!
Freelancing is not as easy as one might think. Basically, getting into freelancing is like turning 18 and wanting to get a credit card: No one will give you credit because you don’t have credit because no one will give you credit. There are resources out there to help you out, such as Deb Ng’s Freelance Writing Gigs blog. Deb is a special flavor of awesome in my book. She digs around for leads, posts them every day on the blog, and even gives some advice to the newbies on getting leads, getting noticed, and getting paid. I’ve been perusing her information, as well as checking out some of the less “pretty” ways of getting work, such as Elance and Guru.
It’s a lot of fun so far.
Elance.com is basically reverse Ebay for freelancers. You can roam the listings and bid on projects you think you want to work on. This sounds very shiny and awesome until you realize that there’s between 3 and 48 proposals for every job, there’s always some bastard who bids the minimum (Edit my 25,000 words doctoral thesis! $50 minimum bid. Some dude - whose profile reads like the product of a bad acid trip -invariably bids the $50 bucks.) Don’t get me wrong, Elance is great, but there are a lot of projects that dangle forever, get canceled for policy violations, mysteriously disappear, or get offered to the $50 guy… whether or not his english language skills lead him to believe dromedary is a synonym for boobies. Still, it’s good for building confidence and it’s a motivation to write some sample articles.. like a nifty one I just wrote about divorce. Have I ever been divorced? Nope… do I love to give unsolicited relationship advice? Yep.
I’m happy to report that I’ve actually nailed down one project so far, thus validating the $10 per month service fee, and then some. With this bounty of income I will get some business cards, and even ::gasp:: a website to peddle my wares. I feel a little self-aggrandizing buying my name as a website of course, but I’m going to do it… becuzzitswhatcha do! I’ll be able to host some examples of my work, post prices, and e-pimp myself to those needing some wordiness in their lives. It will come complete with a artsy picture and a self-important bio that only vaguely resembles the nutcase you all know in real life. I know everyone will really appreciate this. Don’t worry though… I won’t give up on Dimestore.. I’ll be posting here as much as I always do… which is to say, practically never.
