Ear Worm

Of Monsters and Men

Ear worms happen. Usually it's a phrase or two, but for me, the lyrics have been dogging me since I heard the song. Maybe it's because I really didn't want to latch on to the lyrics, because I had a sense about them. Today I finally remembered enough words (three) to get me to a point that I could search the song.So I did. And I was right.

Little Talks

It's a cheery song and I always turn it up and feel really good about it. It makes me happy and dancy. Today it made me cry (and a couple of my readers will likely cry, too). It's about death; the way I perceive it. I don't see an end, or even a beginning. I see death as "other". I think of it as stepping aside...the soul takes a walk while the body doesn't. I'm not going to get in to ghost stories, or go on about my own experiences that have led me here...I have lots of each. But this is mostly about the song that I still love, but now hear differently.

I'm not going to analyze, but I will add in the lyrics (still working on my skillz, see). It is a duet, and that's the important part.

I don't like walking around this old and empty house
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear
The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake
It's the house telling you to close your eyes

And some days I can't even dress myself
It's killing me to see you this way
'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back
Well tell her that I miss our little talks
Soon it will be over and buried with our past
We used to play outside when we were young
And full of life and full of love.

Some days I feel like I'm wrong when I'm right
Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear

'Cause though the truth may vary
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore
Hey!
Don't listen to a word I say
Hey!
The screams all sound the same
Hey!

You're gone, gone, gone away
I watched you disappear
All that's left is the ghost of you.
Now we're torn, torn, torn apart,
There's nothing we can do
Just let me go we'll meet again soon
Now wait, wait, wait for me
Please hang around
I'll see you when I fall asleep

I cut out some of the repetition for obvious reasons. And I promise this isn't going to become some random collection of lyrics. This just hit me where I live. The video is stunning. I think I'm going to go think for a while, about the little talks I miss with a boy with blue, blue eyes.

Yes, I did learn something new in this post :)

Filler

It's Not Just For Dessert

In My Food

It's the stuff between the stuff that tastes good. It's the vehicle for the goodness that is sugar and spice and everything nice. It's the stuff that sits like a lump in your gut, making ya wish ya hadn't finished the plate--starving children in China or no. I'm limited in my fillers these days. Wheat might as well be salmonella along with the other gluten-bearing fillers. Quinoa and I had a falling out.

Rice and I still talk. I like rice. Sticky rice, long rice, dirty rice, redbeansandrice (yes one word thankyouvermuch), jasmine rice, basmati rice, brown rice. I like rice. White rice with a hint of butter and a little garam masala is a pretty tasty breakfast.

In My Movies

Graphic novel geeks will get this, I apologize to those who won't.

The Watchmen. Saw it on blu-ray the other night, and I have to say....I probably won't again. Or at least not without reverting back to the highly edited one that was on the big screen. Why? "The Black Freighter" was woven in to the story and I'm not geek enough to get the correlation between the movie and the cartoon within the movie (please don't explain). I actually yelled at the tv "DROWN ALREADY!"

Usually I like the deleted scenes. I loved Kill Bill because it was a movie with episodes, rather than a poorly executed summary of a summary. Usually I find the additions help the depth of understanding of the movie.

Not so much with "The Black Freighter".

In My Blog

Okay, I admit I wasn't sure what I'd be writing about before I opened this, but I just wanted to write. Back to that discipline thing. I tried to do some "real" writing today, but it fell flat for a variety of reasons.

Like, there was sunshine and I was in a warm car alone with a sleeping Lokisdottir. Also, a remarkably wrecked car parked nose-to-nose with me that, as we pulled out, seemed to ask "Why do they make me live?" There was no front end. The headlamps appeared to be jammed into the front end and then I realized there were zip ties holding them in place at odd angles. I felt empathy for that vehicle. A deep sadness that I will likely take with me to bed.

So, There It Is

Today's post, all short and tidy. The weekend was about as fast-paced as I can handle in my old age. Birthday party, sleep over, swim lessons, birthday party, Costco. I should add the before-coffee incidents with dog poop on the floor, then stepping on a dead vole. Think I'm gonna have some tequila and some sleep.

Woman's Day

What a Day

Birthday!

Today is Baldursdottir's seventh birthday. I'm exhausted. Sitting here beside my mom, the girls upstairs (mine plus a sleepover), my awesome Nordsman asleep early. All kinds of awesome was today. I'm not going to go on about all of that though because it's just not what this blog is about. Or maybe it is and I'm just too beat to remember.

Oh wait. It's about time....how much I do and don't have. How well I can stay on topic when my eyes are drifting. If I have any ability at all to manage it. Ironic, right?

Woman's Day

Today is also Woman's Day. And while my head is spinning, and I am somewhat blank in the mind, I am posting the lyrics to one of my favorite songs in honor of the day. Because it's not just for me. It's for my girls when they claim their title as woman. It's for all women and girls. It is one of the most deeply touching songs I've heard.

Shaking the Tree

Souma Yergon, Sou Nou Yergon, We are shakin' the tree
Souma Yergon, Sou Nou Yergon, We are shakin' the tree

Waiting your time, dreaming of a better life
Waiting your time, you're more than just a wife
You don't want to do what your mother has done
She has done
This is your life, this new life has begun
It's your day - a woman's day
It's your day - a woman's day

Turning the tide, you are on the incoming wave
Turning the tide, you know you are nobody's slave

Find your sisters and brothers
Who can hear all the truth in what you say
They can support you when you're on your way
It's your day - a woman's day
It's your day - a woman's day

There's nothing to gain when there's nothing to be lost
There's nothing to gain if you stay behind and count the cost
Make the decision that you can be who you can be
You can be
Tasting the fruit come to the Liberty Tree
It's your day - a woman's day
It's your day - a woman's day

Changing your ways, changing those surrounding you
Changing your ways, more than any man can do
Open your heart, show him the anger and pain, so you heal
Maybe he's looking for his womanly side, let him feel

You had to be so strong
And you do nothing wrong
Nothing wrong at all
We're gonna to break it down
We have to shake it down
Shake it all around<
Peter Gabriel, Youssou N'dour

By The Way

Even though I'd have preferred go crash, I learned how to do the html code to get song lyrics and poems set up. Yay me! I'm essentially doing random stuff that makes me learn. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have the nerve to try an image.

Loki and The Craft

Loki and Coyote

I was just going to yammer about Loki and Tom Hiddleston for a sec, but with the name of the blog, I thought I'd throw in a little bit about Coyote to say "It's not just about Loki for me." It's about an archetype. I like the trickster.

Coyote

I don't know when the fascination started. I'm pretty sure it's always been there, because I don't remember not liking coyotes as an animal. It was in college that I learned what Coyote the god was, and I loved them all even more.

Coyotes are highly adaptable. When the white man first came to America, the range of the coyote was limited to the desert southwest. Now they are everywhere, and are even interbreeding with wolves--a fact I am in love with. Why? Nature. Always. Wins.

Without getting in to details, adaptability has come in handy in my life. I'm alive because of it. I have often been the architect of my life's changes, and just like Coyote, sometimes it backfires. Epically.

Loki

I learned about Loki not too long after learning about Coyote. I don't know as much about him, but he is a bit darker, and seems a little less...playful, I suppose in the only way I can say it. I keep meaning to read more on the subject, but my reading list is endless and I have Lokisdottir and Baldursdottir to keep track of.

And Now

Yea, it's pretty obvious that I have a thing for Loki of the Marvel Universe. What isn't obvious is why. Yes Tom Hiddleston is remarkably easy on the eyes and seems to be made of the stuff of dreams and all that. That certainly helps.

I like how Loki is treated. Portrayed. Fleshed out. Brought to life. The writing for him is all the complexity, darkness, and ruthless ability to survive fitting for the type without being too heavy handed. He is the troubled kid, the mercenary, the brother, son, impetuous teen.

And the Craft

The Tom Hiddleston part, I saved for last. I've become a fan of him through the Marvel franchise, but because of his craft more than his looks. He wears the character beautifully. Loki could have easily been a flat bad guy, but has become (ok my opinion is skewed but) the most popular character of the franchise because Tom had the right chemistry for the part. He's playful and youthful and not so young that he's boring.

I've watched some of the interviews he has done, and I love it when he is asked to "do Loki". He looks away for a moment an you can see Loki in Tom's clothing. I love that. I've also seen a few clips of him in costume watching the dailies and it's Tom in Loki's clothing. I have a deep respect for that ability...to own a character so well without being consumed. One of my closest friends worked with him on The Avengers and said just that: He really is the nicest guy you could meet.

End of the day, of this entry, of my thoughts...I love masters of their crafts, and watching them work. There's an otherwordliness about them that fascinates me.

Some Day!

I will figure out how to embed images. But I have a cold and Thor 2 is going in the background. If this all seemed distracted, that's why.

A Little Bit Of Flash

It Starts With a Typo

It's like a found sound song, or found poetry, but it's all in images. Snapshots. And I do my best to keep up because I get lost in irrelevant details, trying to milk it for more than I should. Hm. Maybe the typo is the title, after all. "I skipped the hello", was what I received, to which I replied "I hate it when I go straight to good bye." A correction and apology followed, but I smiled and wrote back, "It made for an interesting love story in my mind." It got no further than the string of texts I sent. But it was a fun little ride, though more skeletal than usual for me.

I Skipped the Hello

Black and white set in the fifties. Almost film noir, but not. He's wearing a hat and she has Marilyn Monroe hair.

She is smart and sassy like only Hollywood women were. She's a nineties girl stuck in the fifties...woman really because we eventually claimed that title.

He keeps a Clark Gable smirk ready just for her. He was the suave bad boy with dark hair and a pencil mustache. He didn't quite swagger, but there was dance in his step.

She had dropped her coat on the back of a chair as she walked by. Towards what, I will never know, but she stopped. Turned and looked at him.

He watched her pass as he swirled his scotch, leaned on an elbow on the bar. Their bar in their impossible house full of impossible things.

She smiled when she asked about his day, her ruby lips parting for perfect teeth.

He lifted a brow and leaned his head. "I skipped the hello and was too late for sushi."

She gave him a knowing look. "I hate it when I go straight to good bye."

They laughed. He poured a drink into an impossible crystal glass and handed it to her. They sat on an impossible sofa. Stared at an impossible fire. Dreamed impossible dreams that they would later write down with fountain pens and perfect script.

Fin

Boy Did I Fall Behind

I could go on about falling behind and a busy life with kids, BUT:

It's Mardi Gras!

Otherwise known in the Midwest as "Tuesday". I could wax poetic about the parades, the babies on shoulders catchin throws, sippin Bloody Marys, but it will only make me want red wine and a warm place to sleep.

Despite how much time I spent living in New Orleans, it was never during the school year, so I didn't get to go to parades until I was much older. My first one was 2006, because that was the year New Orleans showed the rest of the world what it's made of. It was the first one after The Storm, and while the entire rest of the country speculated on whether or not Mardi Gras parades should be celebrated...New Orleanians never questioned it.

And Suddenly It's Ash Wednesday

That's pretty much how the last few days have been. A few strands of unattached thoughts punctuated by the occasional realization that I should be doing something else. But I digress. Or something. It's also the greater reason of why I Facebook instead of blog. Time.

Facebook vs Blog

Blogs take effort. Time. Attention that I sometimes just lack. I sometimes use Facebook as a sort of flash-blog, just to toss up a sentence or two, share something I think is neat, funny, or cute. It was also a good place to share some personal stuff (through meme, story or simple photograph) just in case someone else out there needed to know they weren't alone.

But I am more jaded these days and it's affecting my sense of humor.

I tend to be a comment generator, and usually that's ok. In fact I usually welcome it, but there are times I'm not interested in getting advice when I hadn't asked for it. There are times I'm not interested in a debate--especially when my information is well researched, peer-reviewed with double blind studies over the course of fifty years. But the comments come. And some are so insulting--I am sure without that intent--that I've had to walk away (why don't I delete the comments? See below). And that, right there, affects how I perceive a great number of comments that I used to view as witty. Wit has started to look like insult and that makes me sad. I don't want to be that person.

Thing is, commentors play off one another--this is not simply my experience; I've found it true on several other walls. B posts something they care about. X says something witty, so Y has to be wittier, and A then has to come in from the blue to be The Wittiest of All. And that's great, when the original post had the intent of generating such a conversation. When it's not, it starts to look like X,Y and A are intent on making sure the world knows B is any number of things from racist to idiot. Perhaps they are just enjoying the moment.

Yes I know, walk away, give it a few days and the great number of bits of advice that follow a post like this. But I live in the middle of nowhere and I"m alone or alone with the kids a lot. There are things about Facebook I appreciate--mostly the feeling of being connected somehow, somewhere. I've taken to deleting some of the comments that simply piss me off, which helps a little.

I suppose that's it for now.

On a Sidenote

I originally titled an entry "In Your Facebook" and that's where I had planned my commentary. We see how far that got.

Mud!

Yesterdayyyyy

Mud Outside

That was the theme for yesterday. It was nicely warm, so the dottirs and I got outside for a bit to remember what mud looks like...and why I like snow (which is today's theme for about half of the country). We played on the swings, Lokisdottir learned she can climb the rungs of the playset and fly down the slide on her own, we rearranged a few things in the yard (mostly dog poop), found out why sleds are used in snow and not mud, visited with neighbors. All in all it was a pretty good day.

Mud Inside

Yesterday was also a lot about cleaning muddy laundry. And boots. And dog paws. There's quite a bit of mud on ten acres, and I'm pretty sure the goal of my kids and dogs is to see just how much they can bring into the house. Maybe that's why I'm a fan of the extremes. The middle is mud.

Todayyyyyy

Snow Outside

I love snow. LOVE SNOW. So this threat of a foot of snow looks like an offer for a play date from the Ice Giants to me (by the way, my husband is Norwegian American--second generation and we still have contact with his family that stayed in Norway hence all the Norse references).

I love the movie Rise of the Guardians, and practically have it memorized. Jack Frost is my favorite...the writers did an amazing job at capturing the fun and mischief that would be winter in human form. That movie is an example of writers at play.

SNOWRAMP!!!

My biggest decision of the day is where to put the snowrampyesthatsoneword. When it snows enough, I shovel the deck and pile it down the stairs to make a chute for the kids. We get some serious speed with the 5 foot drop, to the point that I had to remove the garden fence because I got tired of running into it. We built on to the deck, though, and have a narrower set of stairs with railings, which means a narrower base, which means a taller ramp, which means more speed and it's not aimed AT the garden.Thing is, there are still remnants of the old ramp on the other stairs. Decisionsdecisions.

Then the Baby Walked In