So, I haven’t been writing. And I’ve been super happy. And then, suddenly, I’m not. I think it’s the drastic pressure of yet another impending court date with my ex, and the knowledge that he does things like mining my Facebook and my blogs for anything he can use against me (and if I write the wrong thing here this very minute, he will file it in evidence), and just the general disagreeableness of his demeanor and the fact that we can’t really actively coparent but I still have to make attempts, and the knowledge that no matter how much I try, I can’t make things in this situation okay. What do you even do with a thing like that? You grin and make the best of it, and just try. But it’s exhausting. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to be in court with this guy every year because he doesn’t seem to have anything better to do. If someone is just really determined to disagree with you or dislike you, what’s the appropriate response to that? I am really, really tired of this, and of the underlying pretense that he’s trying. He’s quite clearly not trying to coparent; he’s just out for a fight. I feel like WWII Poland dealing with a very determined Nazi Germany. And I don’t even know what Poland could have done differently. The futility is exhausting. The lack of change is exhausting. And trying to counterbalance all of that with the almost perfect new life with Danny is confuddling, to say the least. The contrast makes me appreciate him so much more – and it also probably stinks for him to have to deal with the aftermath of my ex, and my ex’s constant presence in my life. But it very definitely stinks for me, and I’m totally sure the way my ex and I relate stinks for our son. And I don’t think there’s any fixing it. In a normal situation, people that don’t get along or want to stay married can part ways, and if they share children, they can communicate about things that affect those children; we can’t do that, for reasons I’ll never fully comprehend. There is a fundamental problem with the way that the legal precedents are set for domestic violence and abuse situations: people that are mentally and emotionally ill enough to be abusers often end up using their children as pawns in their sick games of control. My child is more than a way for his father to torment me.
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Kirinjirafa and I have both adored ITW for decades now – and here it is, revived by Disney, with a distinct aroma of pedophelia attached to it. Oh, dear.
I’m so grossed out by this. Disney, you’ve done it again.
Playbill announced yesterday that a 10-year-old bundle of youtubey stardom has been slated for Little Red Riding hood in the upcoming movie adaptation of Into the Woods.
This happens to be one of my favorite Broadway plays. Literate Libran introduced it to me as one of her favorites too- the dual parts of Cinderella and the Witch have always resonated so powerfully with her. For me the strongest message is the underlying indictment on group dynamics in troubled times. Click either of those to read our thoughts about it. Much has been said about this, and I could easily go on about it much more, so naturally I wasn’t too excited when I heard it was headed for movie theaters, but whatever. They snagged Meryl Streep for the lead, and that’s usually a good sign, right? But this?
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A few years ago, I happened into my favorite independently owned and operated local bookstore, and found an amazing gem of a book.
I wasn’t at all familiar with Terry Pratchett, though I had a tentative love for Neil Gaiman. Gaiman is clever and entertaining, but I personally don’t find him very funny. I was enchanted with the intelligent humor in Good Omens, which is sort of a parody of The Screwtape Letters ( incidentally, Screwtape is my least favorite C. S. Lewis book ever). Satirizing satire is always fun, and the conclusions these two authors managed to make had me deliriously giddy with delight.
From the first chapter (Thanks, Harper Collins!):
Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it was created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand million years ago. By the same token the earth itself is generally supposed to be about four and a half thousand million years old.
These dates are incorrect.
Medieval Jewish scholars put the date of the Creation at 3760 B.C. Greek Orthodox theologians put Creation as far back as 5508 B.C.
These suggestions are also incorrect.
Archbishop James Usher (1580–1656) published Annales Veteris et Novi Testamenti in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 B.C. One of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., at exactly 9:00 A.M., because God liked to get work done early in the morning while he was feeling fresh.
This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour.
The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke the paleontologists haven’t seen yet.
This proves two things:
Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players,* to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infi nite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Secondly, the Earth’s a Libra.
You can see where I might get a little excited about this book off the bat. If you can’t… why are you reading my blog, anyway?
Fast forward a year or so, when I was back to full-time Tom Robbins love, and happened to start seeing a serious Terry Pratchett fan. A fan that owns every Discworld novel ever, and had them stacked up awkwardly all over his house. At the time, I was something of a genre snob. “I don’t usually read fantasy,” I’d sneer. “It’s full of unicorn-laden glades and heaving-bosomed run-ons, and none if it is punctuated properly…” But I made an exception for the man that co-wrote Good Omens, when my boyfriend gifted me with a copy of Going Postal.
Terry Pratchett is so wonderful that he even makes up great words, like gevaisa (“tomb of living words”). And Going Postal was seriously awesome for a plethora of other reasons, too. So I read Wyrd Sisters and Equal Rites and a few more. And then, last night, I stayed up all night long and read Sourcery on my Fire, because it’s back-lit so I can read when I have insomnia but am too lazy to be bothered with lights. It was groovy, too. But a smart thing to do is not read Terry Pratchett novels when you have insomnia, because they make you want to stay up to see what happens next. So don’t do that unless you plan on staying up until you finish the novel.
When you do, there are plenty more of them waiting.
i accidentally came to work dressed like a hooker.
that is a very funny line
but i’m sorry about your plight
did you get the photos?
love the shoes
and the blue toenails?
but seriously, i would never pay to have sex with you
if you tried to be a hooker in that outfit, i think you’d go hungry
Applications for BFF being taken in 3… 2…
(My former best friend swears she was only trying to say that I didn’t look slutty. Puh-lease.)
Also, there’s a new Oz movie coming out, and she told me about that, and it’s kind of exciting and scary. So I guess she’s okay, after all.
For the record, I’d like to say that I don’t care about celebrity marriages or break-ups, and I’m sick of seeing them plastered all over magazine stands, the internet, and people’s minds. But I kind of feel a tiny little twinge of happiness for Katie Holmes right now. Kind of.
I found this in the back of a local furniture store today, but the person working wouldn’t put a price on the item. Apparently, she’s slated for sale on etsy. My new mission in life is to find that listing…
In honor of the New Year, I’m going to admit that I’ve officially gotten back together with my son’s father. A long time ago, we read Into the Wild together (way before it was a movie). We were on a road trip, and I’m ashamed to say that we laughed at Chris McCandless’s antics until we realized the gravity of his situation when he was in Alaska, near the end of the book. It was shocking to us that he’d abandon his life to “tramp,” and we certainly couldn’t understand why he’d give up his cash and his car. Nonetheless we found it entertaining until it inevitably broke our hearts.
This year, for Christmas, I gave him a new copy of the book, as well as Back to the Wild– the photographs and writings (postcards, letters, etc) of Chris McCandless, and it is a worthy purchase for anyone that’s read the book or watched the movie. Not only does it contain page-by-page fascinating images, but the proceeds of the sale benefit the Christopher Johnson McCandless Memorial Foundation, which aids needy mothers and their small children. If you’ve ever had any interest in the book or the movie of Into the Wild, I highly recommend you check it out.
Happy New Year to all, and may you all get back to your joy, or find it for the first time.