The Spider on my Head

Question Air

2009-07-09T18:30:00.000-07:00

Fun questions looked like fun!

8 Things I am looking forward to:

1. Snowboarding season. (okay yeah it's a long ways away)
2. My peppers being ripe.
3. Dawn's birthday party.
4. The eventual trip to Portland.
5. Seeing my cousins from California.
6. My car's new transmission and paint job.
7. Hot Rod'o Rama.
8. The eventual trip to Canada. (i've never been.)

8 Things I did yesterday:

1. Worked. fuuuuuck.
2. Re-read my favorite issue of Local. So good.
3. Finished editing chapter three of my book, and got part way through chapter four.
4. Organized the short stories folder on my computer.
5. Dicked around on the internet.
6. Found a couple new journals to send stuff too.
7. Discovered an amazing (and expensive) 6 week intensive course on speculative fiction, which occasionally employs Nancy Kress. (sweet).
8. Discussed getting out of work for six weeks with Ben.

8 Things I wish I could do:

1. Publish my book.
2. Buy a house that doesn't suck.
3. Play the mandolin.
4. Cut out the need for sleep without any negative side effects. (i'm working on it)
5. Stumble upon enough money to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.
6. Get back into a choir (i'm way out of practice)
7. Write and draw a comic.
8. Say exactly what I think at all times without any negative side effects.

8 Shows I watch:

1. The Vicar of Dibley
2. The Venture Brothers
3. Word Girl
4. The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross
5. Arrested Development
6. 30 Rock
7. Pushing Daisies
8. How It's Made

8 Favorite Fruits:

1. Fujii Apples
2. Granny Smith Apples
3. Other varieties of apples
4. Pears
5. Peaches
6. Blackberries
7. Raspberries
8. Strawberries

8 Places I'd like to travel:

1. Saltzburg
2. London
3. Germany
4. Scotland
5. Whistler Ski Resort in Vancouver
6. Nebraska (i miss it)
7. Alaska
8. Mt. Vesuvius

8 Places I've lived:

1. Maple Valley, WA
2. Gig Harbor, WA
3. Kent, WA
4. Tacoma, WA
5.
6.
7.
8.

I've been rather stationary.

The Ethics of Imagined Stories.

2009-06-26T21:50:00.000-07:00

I am facing a dilemma. I once read (and I swore it was on a lunch break at work) a short story by Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket) about a bar, and a girl, and a Dashiel Hammet-esque mistery involving a glassed in chimney. And it was amazing! It was one of the best shorts I've ever read. The atmosphere he created was just so perfect. And it was so unlike his other things. But, I'm starting to think it doesn't really exist. See, the book I swore I read it in doesn't have any stories by Daniel Handler. And any of the other collections I've read that might have had it turn up completely Handlerless. But I'm so convinced he wrote it, and I'm just missing it.

See, I've fabricated false memories in the past. Really vivid ones. Sometimes I still think my mom is fucking with me by telling me they never happened, but everyone else agrees with her. So it's entirely possible that I dreamed up the whole thing, and he never wrote that story. I'm wondering then if it's fair game... I want to read it again, and if it doesn't really exist I suppose I'll just have to create it. But it still feels a little underhanded. Like I'm stealing it. Also I doubt I could write it as well as Dream Handler wrote it.

Maybe I should just write to Mr. Handler and ask if he ever actually wrote that story. I wonder how well he responds to mail.

Edit: Oh thank goodness I've found it! It really does exist! I definately wasn't up to the task of repeating it, and Hooray another little notch in the "Megan Isn't Crazy" count.

Things which need to happen and right quick

2009-06-21T22:13:00.000-07:00

1. Story Club needs to be reinstated. With baked goods.

2. More Dungeons and Dragons. Apparently Garth Nix published a campaign or two for DnD when he was 17. You know you want to.

3. My bell and jalapeno peppers need to be replanted into pots, and watered, so the poor things don't die shortly after blooming.

4. Vacation.

6. Crow Toes needs to get back to me (in the positive) before I go completely off my nut.

7. Nifty outdated slang needs to become common place in everyday speech.

You may have noticed something missing. It is not missing. I have simply trancended the need for it. As I no longer recognize that which is missing as missing, it has no place in my life. Perhaps if you were to reach such an enlightened state as myself, you would no longer find a need for trivial things like sequential numbers.

Okay so I'm typing in the dark and I totally need to be taken away from the religion section.

As if I needed any more reason to hate...

2009-06-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/user/wowtcg

This fucker right here. "Half Price Books will sell a retro book with a cover price of .50 cents they are asking 149.99 for the book currently. If they are really selling items for half price then they should sell it for .25 cents not 149.99"

DUUUUURFF. "I'm a cheap bastard with absolutely no comprehension of business, but I shore do have a camera durp durp durp."

This is why I hate the internet. For all it's done for me, for all the knowledge gained and the good people I've met (three whole ones, yeah!), it has brought this into the world, and I can never truely stop hating that I've seen this level of stupidity on youtube. Thank you internet, for creating a worse monster than anything our forefathers could ever imagine.

P.S., I also hate the television shows that sprung up to show The Funniest Internet Videos! Get that off my fucking tv!

Finished Momo

2009-05-27T11:44:00.000-07:00

Yep. Just as good as it started out. A little rushed at the end, but then, time was about to be erased and momo only had an hour to save the universe, so that's understandable. Also Momo met Death, and so did Michael Ende, and all the children were put away in holding pens and taught to play "file the important information in its proper place." Anyway I think everyone needs to read it.

Apparently there was a movie in the eighties. Made by Germans, which makes sense. However, everytime I've tracked down a movie made in the eighties from a wonderful children's book, I've been severely dissapointed, and almost offended. Granted, I haven't done this many times... like, okay twice, but do I want to risk it?

Survey says dammit, yes. Stadium Video, here I come. But if I find another From The Mixed Up Files botch job I'm going to break something. They didn't even get the damn title right!

Momo

2009-05-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

So I just started this book Momo by Michael Ende, the author of The Never Ending Story. I've never read the never ending story, and really just picked this up because of all the scary gray men with clocks on the cover. And, so far, it is wonderful and sweet and everything I wish to accomplish in my own writing. I am a little jealous that I am not Michael Ende.

Basically, a vagrant child called Momo moves into the ruins of an ampitheater in a very poor village. She becomes a minor inspiration to the people there and they live simple but good lives. Then these creepy guys in gray come in from the Timesaving Bank, and steal time from people who think they're saving it, and everyone who falls prey to the bank's schemes finds their lives lacking in any joy. Of course, Momo is not effected (just barely), cue the battle to come...

Yeah, I'm really into it. I totally reccomend it. And I want to see the minor story about the crazy emperor who built a whole new world out of the old one, only to discover he merely transplanted everyone about a foot and a half to the right as a comic done in woodcuts.

New Blaaag

2009-05-19T13:21:00.000-07:00

I've created a new blog specifically for writing type shit. It will chronicle my editing process as I try to fix the many many MANY issues made apparent in my manuscript after the SCBWI, and hopefully connect me to a few agents. Ja.

Unfortunately I did the stupid thing and put it up on a different email account and now Blogger recognizes it as a different person. So, this one, right here at http://writerslie.blogspot.com/ is also me.

As a minor follow up to the second day of SCBWI, I'd like to say that Jon Scieszka sounds alot like Bill Murry, and is possibly funnier. He got a crowd of children to worship him in a catholic church by showing off his National Ambassador of Children's Literature medal, and read a story called "Crossing Swords" to the president at a black tie dinner. Yes, the story was about pissing.

SCBWI: A New Hope

2009-05-16T21:25:00.001-07:00

I arrived at day one of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators anual conference a bundle of nerves running on three hours of sleep and no coffee. As it was Redmond, the city was still asleep and there was no coffee to be had, even though I got there a keen hour early. However, I overcame this setback to have...

a totally awesome day. I even overcame my inert fear of everyone and everything to talk to each person I shared a table with, in ever class. Score, like, eighty kajillion on the Megan Effort Scale.

Thankfully, I was not alone. The back of the pamphlet included a "get to know your neighbor" list of questions, numbering well past fifty. Number two was "How do you overcome your introversion in order to network?" This was certainly a place of writers.

Along with ingenius editing tips, editor pet peeves, and meeting a woman who is actually Actively looking for someone who writes like Roald Dahl, about DEAD ANIMALS (my notes on this person included FUCK YES), I also discovered that Adam Rex is brilliant. And he got his start illustrating Magic the Gathering cards. He had this to say:
"It wouldn't be called bottom feeding if there wasn't food down there."
Also: "Aim low. Shoot for the knees."

And tomorrow is another day. I will try my darndest to get more than three hours sleep this time.

Sun is dangerous...

2009-04-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

for the people of Washintonia. Conditioned to live with minimal sunlight for most of the year, the sudden appearance (and longer exposure to it) during the brief summer months can lead to euphoria, and the unfortunate belief that anything and everything is possible.

I seriously feel like Superman breaking out of a room of Red Sunlight. I want to do everything ever right now including but not limited to: volunteering at 826 seattle, joining a choir, riding my bike, playing pool at the Seafairer, designing and making a somewhat realistic looking doll of a woman preferably about 6 to 8 inches, push ups, making baba yaga's chicken leg house out of legos, finishing this fucking novel, drawing my own Sala-esque detective comic and reading all of the books on my to-read list.

Erik's making the future interior of the Dorf out of legos.

Also I bought a baseball mit because mine was either lost to the ages, or I never actually had one that would fit an adult sized hand. Not even my little stunted finger adult sized hand.

Speaking of stunted fingers, I'm going to make those wonderful orange and green gloves from Coraline and fit them correctly so I will finally for once have a glove that fits like a glove. This will happen... eventually. After Erik's gloves.

Projects

2009-04-21T20:25:00.000-07:00

My mom and dad cleaned out their garage and found uh... probably everything that's been missing for the past ten years. Except my baseball glove. I just finished Chabon's Summerland and I really want to play baseball.

But anyway, along with a pie carrier, an album of family photographs from the turn of the last century, and the telescope I thought was sold when we moved, she found a bunch of my Great Grandma Eleanore's knitting needles. We knew they were hers because the container was covered in contact paper. Amazingly most of them were in complete sets, and she had some really teeny thin needles perfect for knitting in miniature. Which I've been wanting to attempt since I saw Coraline.

My Grandma Eleanor was for me, that relative that everyone seems to have who once ran the iditerod, or climed everest. She may not have done those things, but she did just about everything else, including making her own shoes for three years just because she didn't like the style of the ones she found in the stores. I admire that contrarian streak. She also ran the library because she owned the only house large enough for a library in cathlamet. And I get to inherit her knitting needles. Awesome.

Grandma Eleanor is also the reason I have a red paper mache donkey from mexico in my house.

Oh by the way does anyone else want to play baseball? I seriously want to play some baseball.

Snow Boarding Part Four

2009-04-13T22:05:00.000-07:00

I finally decided to do the smart thing and buy a brace for the knee that decides a front and center kneecap is just so cliche, and attempts a three sixty on me from time to time. This, of course, doesn't work, and causes tremendous amounts of pain. So I was all set for a super fun day at the mountain! I even got off the lift succesfully the first time! And completed a perfect changeover from my front edge to my back edge without falling! Oh man, it actually felt like (dare I say it) Improvement!

Then I biffed it right where the hill flattens out and requires all snow boarders who aren't sufficiently speedy to do the shuffle of shame. I hate that shuffle. You have to unbind one foot, and sort of push yourself along at this awkward pose that looks a little like a cross between a baby turtle and a retard. You also have to make sure the board doesn't go off down one side of the mountain while you're still trying to glide the opposite direction toward the ski lift. You can imagine my hate for those damn skiers and their clever poles. Yeah, I could get there easy too if I were a Cheat!

Anyway I failed the shuffle, and while my board went one way and my free foot went the other to stop it, the damn knee brace shifted my knee cap in a completely different direction and I dropped like a sack of potatoes. I could barely walk to the second lift. But I really didn't want to be rescued by ski patrol. Oh the shame. Also, Erik's sister was telling me about being taken down the mountain on a gurney through double black diamond runs and I was a little scared of being strapped to a board at the mercy of whoever picked up the handles. Eventually common sense won out though, and Erik asked the guy at the lift to call ski patrol for me. Because being unable to walk without wincing really isn't conducive to riding a stupid plank with straps down steep snow covered hills.

Actually, once I got over the claustrophobia, it was actually a lot of fun to go down the mountain like that. Kind of like luge, if you giggle continously through luge and are occasionally sprayed in the face with powder.

However, there are few things more mind numbing than sitting in a ski lodge for five and a half hours while the hits of the eighties play overhead.

2009-04-06T22:46:00.000-07:00

comic con was fun and I need to be not so shy about talking to people who are awesome. Blurting out random things just makes me sound crazy. Like "Holy shit I've been waiting for that game to be developed I wanna play that SO HARD." at mr. dresden codak.

Also fun was the visit to Fantagraphics. I have obtained and read so much Richard Sala I've got spiders in my brains. And Peculia is my new hero. I can't tell if this is worse or better than wanting to be Robin, the boy wonder.

Conference Thing

2009-03-28T20:00:00.000-07:00

Oh the burst of creativity that comes with splurging three hundred dollars on a dream. Or something.

I've been gathering together some of my least horrible things to take to the childrens writer's conference in May. With particular attention going to my most involved thing, the thing that will probably never find its final draft, my novel. On a whim I drew a sort of cover and liked it. Sharing time!

That pretty much sums up the whole thing.

I've also found a magazine that specializes in scary children's stories called Crow's Toes Quarterly. Scaring children is a mission a fully support, and I intend to submit something before I get to the conference.

And still I intend to keep up a semi diligent pace on novel number two, because I still want to read it.

How I think I'll ever finish knitting a sweater I do not know please don't ask me.

Incapacitated

2009-03-11T13:58:00.000-07:00

I can't rememer the last time I had an illness that stuck around this long. I had to skip out on snowboarding part three due to the constant coughing that comes with any exertion over the level of "sit on couch and stare at tellevision and knit." My biggest achievment so far has been a crappy drawing of a drunk Cillian Murphey being escorted out of a bar by Batman, wearing a Stereotype Me, I'm Irish shirt.

I think I need something to do outside the house.

Not Seen By Internet

2009-03-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

There is an oasis of information that does not exist on the internet. I can't find anything on the history of Salmon Beach. Not even a blurb on the random Tacoma History sites. This is terrible. The only thing on this wonderful strip of houses built on the other side of Point Defiance over the water is some listing on a house hunting site. It was overpriced, by the way.

Looks like I'm going to be fabricating some history. Whoo hoo!

I have a new favorite show. It's over here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCY1lI8bmlE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBgHjkqxs3I&feature=related

I can't quite figure out how to get the videos onto this thing.

Covered

2009-02-26T19:36:00.001-08:00

Rick's awesome Superman (with mermaid) and the Covered Blog inspired me to redraw the wonderful WonderWoman comic I found ages ago at work. It was disintigrating when I took it, so no worries, we didn't lose one of those critical 25 cent sales. For the record, my favorite Covered cover was Richard Sala's Batman. "You'll take Batman to your catacombs over my dead body, Catwoman!" "Have it your own way, Batgirl!"

I've been reading Pippi Longstocking, and couldn't remember the correct way to spell circus. I thought Astrid Lindgren's spelling would suffice.

Snow Boarding Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

2009-02-24T17:20:00.000-08:00

Before we left, Erik switched our bindings so I was no longer in the step in things and actually had a way to make them tighter. Oh my god oh my god that makes such a crazy huge difference. I actually got off the chair lift without falling. TWICE. And I rode my back edge down the mountain, had a couple really long runs, and even enjoyed a couple falls.

The snow is really really nice when it has more of a give than wet concrete, which was comparable to last time. This time there was probably about seven inches of new snow, and when I took a crazy fall going end over end, I got up laughing, because holy crap falling in that is fun.

Going up the first chair lift, I had the idea that it would be my last run ever, because I was terrified, and certain I would only be able to ride backwards again, and take another flying fall onto my head again, and maybe brake a collar bone, at best. But somehow that terrible fear motivated me into learning the right way to go down the mountain, and I even had fun.

Oh man, just like two more times and I'm sure I can ride the chair all the way to the top.

In writing news I have to scrap about two chapters due to my setting being just too crazy to work. Best laid plans... well we all know what happens to that.

Birthday party

2009-02-22T21:11:00.000-08:00

It's my moms birthday today! I went to church with her this morning, and helped to greet people at the door. I saw mom's friend Pam, and Pam said

"Oh Megan! So nice to see you! You look normal, it's nice."
Taken aback, the only thing to say was "Normal?"
"Trust me, it's a good thing."

I have no idea what to think of this conversation. Was I not normal last she saw me? I tried thinking of what I looked like... I haven't had pink hair in years. She only sees me at church, and I dress nicely for church... What on earth did she mean by that?

My mom only laughed and said "Yes that's weird." so at least I'm not alone on this.

For my mom's birthday, we painted her living room and entryway, and tomorrow I'm taking her to see Coraline.

In other news, planning out a novel is like constructing a working robot out of all the contents of the game closet: mashing jenga pieces up with a couple different puzzles, hooking up operation into Hi Ho Cherrio, and glueing checkers into candyland. Yet, I feel I'm making some headway. I've got about three chapters, and I may have solved some serious logistic problems. I knew that monopoly shoe would come in handy.

John A. sneaked into my head

2009-02-16T21:57:00.001-08:00

I swear he probably explained my usual thought process better than I could with this comic:

I also do not know bjork, and have considered child catchers to solve problems.

New Plan.

2009-02-12T23:00:00.000-08:00

I've decided to stop getting so angry all the time. Don't know if this will work, but well, I'm sick of being angry. It's bad for my health, worse for my social interactions, and I'm willing to bet it probably benifits "The Man" in some way and I just won't stand for it.

And I just feel bad when later on I realize there wasn't a need for all that fuss, and feeling bad is even worse than feeling angry.

In other news I've begun a novel. This may or may not become the theme for my blogging. Currently the biggest issue is consolidating all my notes into a proper outline, working past my atrocious spelling (i refuse to write in a program that will underline everything I do), and finding some music on my ipod that blocks out television noise but doesn't inturrupt my thoughts.

Prokofiev, will you be my friend?

Everyone needs to go see Coraline.

2009-02-09T23:15:00.000-08:00

3d is not nessesary, but I will say that with it the opening credits were WICKED awesome, and creepy, and when everything turns spooktacular later in the movie, the 3d only adds to it.

Also, it's lovely to see a stop animation movie that isn't about a character who is inherently creepy and only wants to be loved boo hoo. Henry Selick did a great job adapting Gaiman's book, especially in keeping Coraline's little kid nature. Hanging off a doorjam and skulking through the house when bored out of her mind: perfect! Made me think of Charlie and Lola.

And you could totally see Vera Brosgal's influence on the characters! Which is something only I care about, but... D'awwww Verabee getting awesome work! French and Saunders were fucking hilarious, too.

Only thing is, it might actually be too scary for kids. I was actually worried for this girl that went into the movie before me, like, oh shit this is probably going to fuck her up big time. Especially when the entire world dissolved into a spider web and the animatronic hand detatched and chased after Coraline. Erik was even a bit leery at this screaming face on the little ghost girl.

So yeah, in conclusion, Dammit Tim Burton, THIS is what you should have been aiming for. And I wanna see it like, a million bajillion more times.

HOW HAVE I BECOME THE BAD GUY?

2009-02-07T23:38:00.000-08:00

When did this happen?! What did I do wrong?

...fuck, man.

Snow Boarding

2009-01-26T21:14:00.000-08:00

So today I went up into the mountains for my first ever in my whole life (minus that one time I was abandoned at bible camp) snowboarding lesson!

I don't know if this will come as any surprise, but I'm dang near impossible to teach. I frustrate easily, I'm way to hard on myself, and I inadvertantly tend to focus all of this pent up anger in streams of profanity aimed directly at my teacher. But man oh man that Man-o-mine stuck by me (to yell back "CALM THE FUCK DOWN"). And this is why I love him. Among other reasons, of course.

So, anyway, after a fairly unsuccessful run in "the medow" by my standards but I guess decent enough for a first timer, Erik and I went up a much higher chair lift. God that was pretty. I want to master this dang board just to take all the various lifts and peer out over the green and white. And despite the occasional GOD DAMMIT on the way down, I actually got to going pretty well. Had quite a few longer runs in which I came to a controlled fall, rather than a torso twisting tumble down slope. Unfortunately, I was only comfortable doing this on my toes because I've never quite mastered the ability to walk flat footed. So we came to a much flatter portion at the base, I slowed down, the back of my board caught the ice and I flew backwards what felt like about twenty feet, but I probably only left the ground five inches and landed square on my hip and the back of my head. I cried. It fucking hurt. And I cried. That mountain has tasted my tears.

I want revenge.

So I have vowed to get astonishingly good at the snowboard and kick that mountain's ass. It may take all season. Hell it will probably take all 8 and a half, but I shall not rest until I take the run up to the top and have a victory beer while stairing across the valley at Mt. Rainier as my equal. I vow to do this just as soon as I am able to walk across the living room without wincing, and there is a good amount of powder up there to pad my next few falls.

Oh yes, and I had fun.

Worst days

2009-01-24T16:29:00.000-08:00

they are the worst...

Today I was so thankful for the Drop that I made horrible piercing screams at the top of my lungs while driving! And felt so much better afterwards. Because I'm not actually allowed (as one of the Fresh Young Faces of Half Price Books!) to make horrible piercing screams at the customers who piss me off.

And now I'm looking forward to calling the cops on Indian DVD lady and personally handing her a form telling her that she is no longer welcome in any of our stores. I don't think I've ever been in this light of spirits after an absolute shit day before. There really is something to this screaming thing. I hope she protests and the cops beat the shit out of her!

In other news I've begun outlining a possible collection of scary fairy tales that I really hope I can get to fit together right, and my sweater is 1/4 finished. That doesn't sound like much, but those stitches are so teensy that I have to count it as an EPIC VICTORY or I'll be disheartened and give up completely.

The saga continues...

2009-01-10T22:33:00.000-08:00

Story club is on Wednesday, and each day I come to work, I get more material. The only question is, will my attempted altruism (attempted because I cannot actually find it in my heart to think the best of absolutely everyone, much as I try) interfere with the subject at hand? Especially when this subject makes bad half jokes and comes up with lame excuses even when there's nothing to be excused? Oh dear. I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.

In unrelated news the sweater that I worked on all last weekend turned out to be worked on the incorrect needles, and I have to scrap the entire beautiful thing. Knitting is not as forgiving as sewing. After a night of epic dissapointment and counting the waisted hours, I've decided to get back on the horse or I'll be too fearful to ever try a sweater again. Also, it's practically war by this point. Give me a pretty gray striped sweater or give me death!

Phone call shmone call

2008-12-28T23:47:00.000-08:00

"Hello, thank you for calling Half Price Books Tacoma, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, do you guys do vaccinations there?"
"No... this is a bookstore."

Sometimes I cannot explain my job.

In other news I got an angry Batman for Christmas. He's SO ANGRY. I want to take pictures and make him say horrible things to Robin.

My latest sewing victory:

2008-12-22T17:22:00.000-08:00

I made a horrible plush of The Warden from Superjail.

I used Shrinky Dinks for the glasses, even though Erik was certain I was making it up and there is no such thing as Shrinky Dinks. My mom knew what they were.

This shot better shows off his suit. I was very proud of being able to sew a coat with tails from the memory of what my choir teacher's looked like. Not like I was constantly admiring his backside, or anything.

And as for proof that he's supposed to look terrible, this is a shot from the show:

The Great Storm...

2008-12-21T08:30:00.000-08:00

I'm as snowed in as one can be in Washington, last night I made shortbread cookies shaped like gingerbread men and snow flakes, and I've got a full pot of coffee. Blizzards aint so bad. I just wish Erik were here instead of attempting to deliver papers. I swear he'd have better luck on a snowbord.

Also last night I found the most amazing christmas story ever, courtasy of some girl named Lindsay:

Every whore down in New York liked christmas alot,
But Rorschach, who lived in a rundown apartment,
Did Not!

Rorshach Hated Christmas, the whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why, no one quite knows the reason.
It could be that his fedora wasn't screwed on quite right.
It could be, perhaps, that his trench was too tight.
But I think that the most likely reason of all,
may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But whatever the reason,
his heart or his trench,
he stood there on Christmas Eve, emitting a stench,
staring down from his window with a sour blotted frown
at the coked out pimp with a drug deal going down.
For he knew every New Yorker in the city below
would shout up to him "Save us!"
and he'd whisper "no."

Halleluja.

2008-12-17T13:02:00.000-08:00

So last night I got to go on stage as an allumni (for high shcool.) Choir was a super big deal in high school, and each year at the winter concerts they have two pieces during which they ask the attending allumni to come up and sing with the current choir. The last piece was The Halleluja Chorus which is actually a lot of fun to sing. And I vaugly remembered my part, but it was nice to see that the soprano I was standing next to had music to share. Until about three bars into the song and I realized this girl does not know how to read music, she is mouthing the words next to me, and that she keeps flipping the pages at whatever she thinks might be the right time to turn the page. Which means while I'm trying to read my part she's flipped the page over to the base line. GAAAAH!

So I was trying to figure out which would be more rude, to yoink the music from her, and show her that really a blind monkey could follow choral music, honestly the words are RIGHT THERE, or to just let her flounder as I sang Handel to the best of my memory?

Well as it turns out I remember more of Halleluja than I thought i did.

Stupid decisions

2008-12-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

I should know better than to pick up sequals. When I worked in a library after school I found a wonderful book, and just recently I picked up a sequal written probably ten years later? I think. It's terrible. It's like the author completely forgot what made his character so interesting in the first place, and moulded her into that lump of whatever he thinks will most appeal to the average teenager of today.

This is almost as bad a betrayal as that time I finally decided to read the Jan Brett version of Puss In Boots instead of marvel at the pictures. I still can't really like that story.

Anyway, in completely unrelated news, my tree's been trimmed, presants bought, there's a nativity on the mantle (for posterity's sake), and I'm nearly finished making a scary plush doll of the warden from superjail. And tonight I think I'm even singing the Halleluja chorus! If I can make it safely across the bridge. Oh yeah, christmas, it's on. I'm gunnin for ya.

Turkey Attained, Thanks Has Been Given.

2008-11-27T20:59:00.001-08:00

And there weren't even any fist fights over the table! I had two thanksgivings today, rushing over to gig harbor for my family, and then back at about four to help with the things at my house. I nearly fell asleep on the road. Damnable turkey. Regardless, I was able to chat with erik's grandma and only feel about 30% more awkward than usual, as opposed to the anticipated 185%. I think she even liked my pies.

In the spirit of the day, I'd like to say I am eternally thankful for my house not becoming a warzone of terror and shouting this evening. But even more than that, I'm thankful that the house is now empty, and clean, and I get to share the rest of the evening in quiet with my favorite person in the world.

Now on to the next task: oh shit. I don't even want to think about christmas.

2008-11-10T19:55:00.000-08:00

As with most things I take any interest in, my recent innaguration into the world of comics has made me want to write one on my own. But something actually may come out of this... too early to tell if it's anything good, or if I'll even finish it.

I think what I'd really like to do is to create a magnificent opus of all the crazy ideas i've got swimming in my head. That way I'd touch on everything, get it all out in one go, and then get to become a hermit and never see or speak to anyone again. I think i could do it. Worked for Harper Lee. Unfortunately I doubt I could be quite as sussinct as Harper Lee. And I'm too concerned with other people's opinions of me to become an actual hermit. And how's a girl with no credentials and a portfolio that the criptkeeper would find a bit too eerie to get published with the Big Six all concerned over the next Twilight Saga? I'm clinging to the hope that somebody over at McSweenys will like me.

Why does the seemingly noble idea of writing a novel make me feel like such a whore?

In other news I found out that my favorite Flying Neutrinos song "Violent Love" is actually a cover of an Oingo Boingo song. Listen to both of these, and you will know how hard I tripped over this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfofNUzzTrI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCcPzaaSvqQ

this is worse than that time I realized the song at the beginning of Wonder Years is actually a Beatles song

The Greatest Purchase of my life.

2008-10-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

Thus far. I'm sure it will be surpassed when I finally buy a corvair monza. But this for thirty five bucks is pretty hard to top:

Isn't she just the prettiest thing? No idea on the vintage, but antiques roadshow is supposed to be in puallup in november...

Now I just have to learn to play it. Judging my hand eye coordination by my skill on Rockband, this could take a while.

Story Club: Sci Fi

2008-10-09T21:20:00.001-07:00

Normally I don't write sci fi, but I happened to really like this one.

It was a curious condition being a cereal box with thought. The humans never considered the feelings of their lesser creations when they developed a self aware AI. The Captain certainly considered it. Aside from the nightly chat with Jared, the janitor bot, reflections on his own perilous faux humanity took up the whole of his time. Situated at the back of the shelf, behind his cardboard comrades, The Captain would furrow his holographic brow and twitch his moustache in a manner he thought most dignified, and think.

"How is it that I came about, knowing all the things I know, and feeling all the things I feel, only to one day be bought by some hyperactive eleven year old, my box opened, and my circuitry torn, all my thoughts and feelings cut short in an instant? Surely, being a creature of intelligence there is a higher cause for me. It cannot all go out like a light, my program being spent the second I've advertised enough to be worth my technology. The humans are convinced of their own immortality, certainly they've passed some of that on to me!"

Jared often told The Captain of his folly in believing that a program could ever be anything more than a program. Each night while mopping aisle eight The Captain would tell Jared of his latest theory, Jared would slowly shake his optical units and refute him. It wasn't hard. Their creators weren't a mystery: they could be seen each day milling about the supermarket. Occasionally the issue would be so pressing and their battles would become so heated that both parties would raise their synthetic voices and shout across the aisles:

"Our lives are meaningless! We have no higher purpose than the purpose we assume now!"

"This cannot be the end! How could we be able to think if there's nothing more! Even our argument is a testament to our endurance!"

But the argument never lasted long. Jared would finish with aisle eight and have to leave for seven, and he'd say goodbye to his friend, tucking his box in behind the others so that no sticky little child would find him.

This carried on for quite some time, but all cereals have expiration dates, and The Captain knew of his. His programing made him more desperate to be bought the nearer he got to the date, and he was forced to call out to anyone passing by his shelf.

"Why hello there! Did you know I am fortified with over fifteen necessary vitamins and minerals? And I stay crunchy in milk!"

It became quite humiliating, and he would account all of these affronts to his dignity to Jared each night, sometimes even shouting out over the shelves long after Jared moved on to aisle six and aisle five to tell him of all the indecency he's had to endure.

"And they wouldn't even look at me, Jared! After all I've been through! I'm no longer a young box, Jared, and I've served this shelf well, brightening the aisle from my post at back! You'd think I could at least get a smile! It's enough to make a cereal want to go to breakfast."

On the last night before his expiration date, The Captain called Jared over to his shelf. He wished to leave this world having served his purpose: he wished to be bought.

"I have nothing to give you, Jared, to remember me by. You are my finest, albeit only, friend, and our evening discussions have made this cold world a much warmer place. Please, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like you to put me at the forefront of this shelf tonight, and tomorrow I'll go off to a better world, and don't you dare tell me I won't."

"Of course I won't. I've heard human houses are lovely."

The Captain narrowed his eyes, judging whether to begin an argument with his finest, albeit only, friend. "Not tonight, Jared. I just don't feel it tonight."

The next day, at two pm, The Captain's circuitry went out. His holographic face dimmed, and the brightly colored cereal box faded to a blank white. The box was swept unceremoniously into a rubbish bin by a janitor bot unknown to The Captain. That evening Jared restocked the shelf with a new shipment of Captain Crunch and activated their AI. The boxes came to life with a chorus of coughs and grunts and moustache twitching, and Jared picked out the one he felt had a more interesting grunt and set him at the back of the shelf.

"Hello, Captain. So what do you think of Nietzsche?"

"Absolute Rubbish!"

Great show, or greatest show?

2008-10-05T12:55:00.001-07:00

Charlotte teaches cannibal veggies to sing. All this and More! at http://www.makingfiends.com

Go there. Watch all of them. It's hilarious!

History repeats itself

2008-09-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

Regardless of whether we learn from it. So we're facing a crisis! My bank has folded in on itself, the corperate bailout has been overturned, and the whole economy has gone down the toilet. It's okay. I'm sure we'll find some old goldfish friends down there we've forgotten about.

It's curious, being young and poor, to witness a very important aspect of our society it itself and not really have any hand in the crisis. I feel like an alien who can just get back in the space ship and hang out on Mars until this blows over. But I can't. Hm. I can, however, delve into my history documentaries and string up little color coded threads indicating what has been and what is and what will be. Anyone up for another depression? I sure am! We don't have a choice! We're experiancing a major shift in wealth, and although our country will eventually get out of it, we won't ever be the same.

I'm curious to see how this will pan out. I feel like sitting out on the corner with a "The End is Nigh" sign to perpetuate the absurdity of the situation. Only in jest, though. The end isn't nigh. It's never the end. But the change is nigh. Should be fun.

2008-09-25T21:36:00.000-07:00

Some woman nearly cried today as she was asking me how to fix her VHS player. The phrase "I have such beautiful tapes" came up several times and I had to go over adjusting the tracking to get rid of that funny line at least four times. Nothing stuck. Even after I told her for the fifth time that I'm not in the business of repairing tape players and she decided to peruse the clearence she yelled back at me "What if this doesn't work?" I responded that she should talk to a professional who would actually be able to fix it for her. "But I don't have the MONEY FOR THAAAAAAAAT" whaaaaaaaaaambulance.

Honestly, I felt bad for her. I really did! She's old, she obviously can't handle the advent of new technology and is grasping at straws. I'm not even sure how she made the leap to VHS back in the eighties to begin with. I'm sure it was very hard. But I am not the answer to all her problems in VHS. Nor is the bookstore. Because we're a fucking Bookstore.

Is it just me, or do we have a giant neon sign only visible to the craziest of the nutsos pointing through our door? I'll bet it says "Hey, make friends with the nerds here! They'd love to hear how the president is really a cockroach in a person suit and you got a new high score in donkey kong."

the sign lies.

So...

2008-09-18T17:51:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get the idea that everyone ahead of me in life has only got there through absolute idiocy and the only thing holding me back is my refusal to give up my brain, and my inability to be openly mean to others.

Everyone being our lovely district manager, by the way.

It's just disheartening when two years with a company gets you jack shit of respect, oh and any attempt to help out by opening your mouth only warrents a "Who the fuck asked you to talk" look.

In other news, I have a funeral to attend on Saturday, for friend's parent. I've been avoiding this friend for a while, after she sort of tried to screw over her family and any friends she hadn't completely pushed away before that point, and I'm not even sure if she'll be at the funeral. If she is, I expect to be hit. I don't really want to be hit, but I suppose I owe her at least one for avoiding her.

Hm. I thought I was in a good mood, but this seems to be a pretty depressing post. I should solve that...

AHA!

The day the music died.

2008-09-07T11:35:00.001-07:00

"Yeah... I just didn't like it as much as her other stuff. I guess I should have looked at the date. She got way better with age."
-One of our customers, on returning No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom.

And, as promised: The sorts of people who make me proud to belong to this species.

-The people behind the National Geographic channel, The History Channel, and PBS.

-The people who restore Corvairs. (seriously the nicest car people in the world)

-Volunteer history museum curators (even nicer than corvair people.)

-BOB ROSS. Dead, and still the best man on television.

-Nerds.

-Taxidermists. (whom I consider an equivilant to vegitarians, only about a billion times cooler)

-People who make obscure literary and or Arrested Development jokes.

The sorts of people who piss me off.

2008-09-02T00:52:00.000-07:00

A semi comprehensive list.

>People who use the word crazy as a substitute for "kooky" "wacky" or "silly" as in "Megan you're so craaaaazy! eheheheheheheheheheh." No I'm not. Crazy is trying to cut of your own finger because that's where the bad thoughts are hiding, or dropping out of school because you've run out of paths to take to class where people can't see you, or you stop eating because all the food is contaminated. Crazy is not "lol wacky."

>People who use "cute" phrases like "Spank you!"

>People who say Danka or Gratzi! for thank you when they speak neither language those words belong to. Because they think it's cute. Are we sensing a pattern?

>People who ask questions so they can make obnoxious dissaproving faces regardless of how valid your answer might be. Fucking buy counter.

>People who drive SUVs with rediculoud soundsystems so they can pound their shitty music into your skull from behind.

>Ricer douchebags who don't know how to put on a hat.

>Ricer douchebags who aren't exactly sure what an engine is, other than it gets in the way of their body kit.

>RICER DOUCHEBAGS

>The people who run oil companys who've bought the patents that would have allowed for fule economy in the 100 mpg range as far back as the seventies only to sit on them as their wallets get fatter off our exceedingly wasteful methods for powering cars.

>People who can't control their children. It's called a spanking. It works.

Soon to come: the sorts of people who overcompensate for this shit gallery.

Social butterfly

2008-08-31T12:31:00.000-07:00

So last night Erik and I spent time with the two most silent people on the planet. Take all of my awkward social retardation, times it by a million, then split it between two people and that's about it. They're very nice, and actually quite enjoyable, but well... a party for them involves sitting on the couch and staring at the floor with other people in the room. That sounds mean, but I promise it's not.

Anyway, Erik usually compensates for this because he's the social superstar and can usually make friends and conversation with anyone, but he left me alone for two minutes to get his phone out of the car.

Two minutes.

For two whole minutes.

I realized I was going to have to fill that void for TWO WHOLE MINUTES

The fact that I was gearing up for it just shows how retarded my social skills are. But! I did it. I spread my social wings and made some dumb joke and we talked about video games for Two Whole Minutes. I was very proud of myself that when erik came back 120 seconds later we were still talking and nary a silent awkward moment descended on the table.

Just thought I'd share my rediculous victory.

I am twenty three today.

2008-08-19T13:34:00.000-07:00

That's pretty much all, except that now I've only two years to go with a clean bill of mental health before I can scratch Schizophrenia off my list of worries. And now I can say twenty three instead of twenty two, which is awesome because I really don't like saying twentytwo. It's such a goofy number. Twentythree seems so much more respectable.

Epic Win.

2008-08-15T22:19:00.000-07:00

So, after two years, I finally printed off another hard copy of my book. Aaaaand I discovered that once I included the three chapters accidentally omitted I have over 56000 words, placing me well over the general 40k minimum for first time YA authors. I'm so fucking stoked over this, because despite going on long in story club I'm a fairly succinct person.

However, because I write in a non ms word type program because I hate all the squiggles, I ran a spell check on these 56 thousand words and Holy Shit why didn't anyone tell me my spelling was so bad. It's SO BAD. So bad.

Thought for the night:

Don't you just hate walking around the house naked only to realize the windows were open? Fuuuck.

The Messiah of Teh Intarblag

2008-08-12T10:29:00.000-07:00

I feel as though I am looking at the answer to all of mankind's problems, but the answer is so magnificent that if I were to comprehend even a tiny portion of it my mind would collapse in on itself.

You're breakin my balls, ford.

2008-08-10T23:54:00.000-07:00

Dear Ford motor company,

Did you really just tout 27 mpg or better on all your automobiles as a major accomplishment? Really? Twenty seven? Ford, a 1970's volkwagen could get twenty seven if tuned properly. Are you really telling me that in 38 years of good ol' american enginuity and know how, we still can't do any better than that... and we're going to celebrate it through a commercial?

Fuck you, Ford Motor Company. And quit breakin' my balls.

Love and Kisses,
Megan

In other news, I need therapy. But only so I can write a therapy session without feeling like a great big fat Holden Caulfield PHONY.

realizations.

2008-08-06T19:35:00.000-07:00

So apparently I can refit a fitted shirt with relative ease, dispite having never messed with anything more complex than a tee shirt before, but when it comes to finding my bra to try the shirt on, I am hopeless. Fuuuuuuuck.

Also, erik can refit a carburator to run on 40% water, so that means 40% less gas going into the car *ca-ching!* and 40% of my emmisions being oxygyn. Suck my dick, Prius!

You know... if I had one...

It does infuriate me that with all of the inovations in fuel all we've got now is some stupid slow ass battery driven car that gets just as much gas milage as a geo metro (srsly) and totally fuckers any enviroment that has to handle the battery. Especially when some dude can drive an old chevy truck across this state the long ways and never have to stop for gas, just by using the gas the way it ought to be used. And some hippie back in the seventies already got his volkswagen running on rain water.

if erik converts the type three squareback I'll have a HydroVagen. Sweeeet.

Funk yeah Socal

2008-07-29T12:19:00.000-07:00

So of course awesome trip was awesome. Some of the finer points:

The Richard Nixon Presidential Library. Fuck yeah history! We saw a piece of the berlin wall, and I got my picture taken next to it, even though I really really shouldn't have. Damn flash. Even better: I got a picture of a sign that says "Please Do Not Touch the Berlin Wall." Heh heh. Yeeeah. I also learned that I am about as tall as Winston Churchill. He had a little bit on me for that bowler though. There was a lady watching us so I didn't hug it.

Fullerton Arboretum. Trees! Lotsa them. Well, for the area. The best was the desert part of the arboretum though. So many enormous cacti (gotta love them succulants) and there was a burrow of adorable little rabbits that populated the cactus garden, so they were running all over the place. SO FUKKEN CUTE.

Jewish District of Los Angeles. First we went to Amoeba, which was rad (i now have a flogging molly picture disk. Eeee!) then tried walking to this one famous Jewish deli because kah-wang-guh was supposed to be like two streets from Fairfax. I want to put all of the LA population into a directional training course. "Dear L.A. If the location is in nevada, it is not TWO BLOCKS AWAY." Forget that, though. Jenn found this awesome teeny tiny bookstore across from the deli that had pretty much everything McSweeny's put out, as well as a pretty durn near complete line of Fantagraphics press (Jenn got Buddy Does Seattle written in the mid ninties and is calling it research. I fully approve) and a collection of Chabon essays that I did not realize existed. Yes I paid full price. Proceeds go to 826 which is my favorite charity. Woot! And the three part dust jacket was drawn by a guy who actually lives above the bookshop I was in! Superneat. He wasn't in or I'd have pestered him to sign it and then we'd drive to berkley to stalk Mr. Chabon until he signed it and let me brush his hair. Heh heh... he's so dreamy.

That was wierd.

Frankensons. Massive collectable place where I found five seasons of daria plus two movies for forty bucks. Unfortunately there was no Pete and Pete season three there, but I did get their card and they deliver all of your favorite childhood shows that no one will ever care to reproduce, and even those you don't care to reproduce. Can we say Maxx Hedroom?! Yes we can!

And and and... well of course getting to spend the week with Jenn. Damn I love that girl. Saying good bye was so hard. And totally gay. Like... really gay. I'm gonna miss her. I think I'll have to start planning the Alaska trip so as not to get all depressed and such.

Clubs I wish really existed so that I may join them:

2008-07-17T19:31:00.000-07:00

Future Corpses of America.
-- It'd be totally all inclusive! Everybody's a member! Cept those damn Canadians (who in the immortal words of Margarat Mahy "are really just Americans with no Disneyland")

The League of the Golden Key
-- The logo is rad, and I'd get to hang out with Brian K. Vaughn and Michael Chabon *he's so dreamy. Sure, being a hero to all who "toil in the chains of tyrrany" would be great, but I'd be all about hangin out at the clubhouse under the temple theater.

The Historical Preenactment Society
-- I want this to exist so bad I've actually considered starting one. I could write some preenactment scrpits! Maybe scrounge up some foam swords... Come on guys, who doesn't want to preenact the historical Primate Robot moon battles of 2318? We could even do an 80's version of the future and take over wright park Mad Max style. Bring your own deadly boomerangs!

Idjits

2008-07-15T16:26:00.000-07:00

So Erik and i went for pizza today and had the misfortune of sitting next to a table of super stupid teenage girls (one looked like George from Dead Like Me so I hoped they'd be cool... they weren't).

They were loud but I can usually ignore that, but then Erik pointed out an absolutely gorgeous mid thirties champaign colored coup (full fenders, chrome, the goddamn WORKS) and one girl said behind us "What's he pointing at" like a little snot. Okay. Then another girl said "Oh that stupid looking old fashioned car."

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I hate people.

Listen up kids, Just because you have yet to see it on fukken Gossip Girl does not immediately equate it to "dissmissable." In fact, near abouts every god damn time, the opposite is true.

Why!? Why hast the youth forsaken its potential!?

In other news I cut mah hair. I feel like Carol Brady.

Doppelgangers

2008-07-05T22:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard how in German lore you'll see your own doppelganger shortly before you die?

I have a doppelganger in Tacoma. She drives a moss green and tan VW beetle. 70's vintage, possibly a super, but I've never been close enough to tell. Other people have seen her, and she's even come into the bookstore, but I was on lunch at the time. Possibly I dodged a bullet. Erik's even delivered pizza to her house and once I followed her car a little ways, but I never saw her face.

I've been asked if I have a sister with a volkswagen a couple times.

I don't honestly believe that if I see her I'm going to bite it, but it is something fun to think about. It could be that I'm actually her doppelganger, and I'm just her death waiting around until the time I've got to harbing. Or maybe we doppel eachother and the second we see eachother face to face, we will blink out of existance.

I hope not though. Who would take care of her radmobile?

I wonder if maybe she is out there blogging about the doppel in the 89 subaru...

things I like:
witch hazel trees that turn bright shocking red in the fall

things I don't particularly enjoy quite so much:
waiting for vacation time.

Hells yes science.

2008-07-01T00:13:00.000-07:00

Ugly Day

2008-06-30T17:48:00.000-07:00

the sun is shining...

I really think I might secretly be reptillian and my doctors and parents have been lying to me all these years. Why else would I have to keep my hands under water every so often or confine myself to the one room with air conditioning so as not to perish of heat stroke? And it's only in the mid eighties!

Damn, broken sweat glands.

I don't know how I'll survive California next month. Ho man. Next month. I'm so freakin stoked. Fo real real.

Despite the last week being hellish, it's actually been a fucking awesome summer so far. Sasquatch festival at the gorge was super sweet, as was Taste of Tacoma yesterday, and I get to see my favorite girl in all the world in one short month. Damn I miss her.

Oh the absurdity of living in the future, but not the distant future. Meeting your best friend on the internet, and still having to sit through a three hour plane ride that costs a cool three hundred bucks to see her. Can't someone utilize the wormhole theory already?! Beam me down scotty, I wanna see the O.C. (don't call it that) without "punching the sky in the big banana."

Fuck yeah three random references in a single sentence. Win.

Things I like:
that the suggested labels for this post are "scooters, vacation, fall"

Things I'm not so keen on:
Actually I'm in a pretty good mood. Everything's peachy!

Today:

2008-06-28T19:21:00.000-07:00

My brain has exploded up into the sides of my skull and the pieces are stringed out in a way I'm not familiar with.

that's a lie. I know the pattern, but I don't know if I like it.

I've been recently reading a lot on humanism and posthumanism, and the two theorys, although seemingly conflicting in their titles, actually make a lot of sense together. It all comes down to science (if you are willing to condense it so far to it's essentials that you ignore almost all) and it's application to bettering humanity. And hey, I'm all for it! Granted, posthumanism is way more for the science than humanists...

You know what? Fuck.

what I'm basically getting down to is the question: Can I be either with that teeny tiny fenagiling thought that hey there might still be a god? I was raised on it. And ignoring it just seems wrong.

My mind is out of sorts. And I'm in the drunks. Dammit.

Things I like:
Cold

Things I don't like:
Hot.

new things

2008-06-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

I now have a blog. I suddenly feel less cool. This coming from the girl in the Historical Preenactment Society tee shirt. Ah well.

Mission statement for Blog:
to record thoughts, theorys, grevences, and occasionally dreams in order to better understand and therefor better myself and the world I live in. And it's on the internet because I'm a shameless attention hogging whore who ought to be locked up and rehabilitated before ever being set free to terrorize the world.

I escaped high school regardless.

Things I like:
The time of evening when the sky is still grayish blue, but all the trees look black.

Things I don't like:
Imbalenced brain chemicals