Until I was four years old, the most appropriate adjective one might use to describe me wasn't an adjective at all really. It was a possesive noun; "daddy's". His passing was the only reason I know of it stopped being true.
So, as is often the case, we start out by explaining the title of the post. Ever noticed what a pompous blowhard (I wince using that word. It's harsher a label than ones I generally think in, but it fits here, and as they say, if it fits . . .) Kanye West is? I've got several beefs with him, but technically the post is about how Mr. West thinks the world revolves him and he himself is above most of society and how that relates to moi.
I personally am not quite deluded enough to think either of those things, but about this blog one of them is true, after a fashion. It (the blog) is all about me, the parts, opinions, and struggles I choose to share. Here in this tiny corner of the internet I am a fledgeling rap artist. Watch out, I'm about to go on a binge. But first I have to help some buck-toothed rabbits dance disco to the music from Pulp Fiction*.
All right, that's all taken care of.
Why do I consider today's post all about me, even though I'm going to mention a crap-ton of other people and things? Because it's very opinionated. The following is pretty much a laundry list of what I thought about several things in my sphere of existence.
Like for instance, the colorful, tragic, beautiful independant film Phoebe in Wonderland . 
It's this amazingly gorgeous movie about a little girl whose imaginative version of Wonderdland is the only thing to eclipse her escalating battle with a kind of OCD. The whole movie grabs you by the heart, embracing and strangling by turns. At one point "Phoebe" shows up late for a theatre tryout because she can't force herself to stop obssessively washing her hands. Her knuckles are literally rubbed raw and your breath stops during the moments Ms. Dodger, the drama teacher, decides whether or not to let her audition. Meanwhile, at home things are getting harder and harder for Phoebe to deal with. Her parents are fighting all time; her mother is very clearly unhappy with being 'just a mom', and her father's success in being published only makes her mother resentful of him. To Phoebe, Lewis Carol's Wonderland is--ironically--the only place where she can make sense of anything. In the role of Alice, Phoebe shines. ********************************************************************************
It's this amazingly gorgeous movie about a little girl whose imaginative version of Wonderdland is the only thing to eclipse her escalating battle with a kind of OCD. The whole movie grabs you by the heart, embracing and strangling by turns. At one point "Phoebe" shows up late for a theatre tryout because she can't force herself to stop obssessively washing her hands. Her knuckles are literally rubbed raw and your breath stops during the moments Ms. Dodger, the drama teacher, decides whether or not to let her audition. Meanwhile, at home things are getting harder and harder for Phoebe to deal with. Her parents are fighting all time; her mother is very clearly unhappy with being 'just a mom', and her father's success in being published only makes her mother resentful of him. To Phoebe, Lewis Carol's Wonderland is--ironically--the only place where she can make sense of anything. In the role of Alice, Phoebe shines. ********************************************************************************Meanwhile, I've also read two YA novels in the last week. First up, The Possibilities of Sainthood, by Donna Freitas. It took me a couple of chapters to really get into the right
headspace to enjoy this book, but basically that's pretty much true of every book these days. It's hard to turn off an editor's brain once you've switched it on. However, after I made that part of my grey matter shut up I was absolutely charmed by the main character, Antonia Lucia Labella. She made me want to spend a week or two living above an Italian pasta shop in Rhode Island, and she made me curious about all the saints (there's a patron saint of breastfeeding? Seriously?) and I'm not even close to being Catholic. Plus, it's been a really long time since obtaining my first kiss was any kind of priority, for which Antonia longs in a hilariously inwardly bold, outwardly silent kind of way. I'm not kidding. Pick this one up, you'll be all gushy inside yourself.
headspace to enjoy this book, but basically that's pretty much true of every book these days. It's hard to turn off an editor's brain once you've switched it on. However, after I made that part of my grey matter shut up I was absolutely charmed by the main character, Antonia Lucia Labella. She made me want to spend a week or two living above an Italian pasta shop in Rhode Island, and she made me curious about all the saints (there's a patron saint of breastfeeding? Seriously?) and I'm not even close to being Catholic. Plus, it's been a really long time since obtaining my first kiss was any kind of priority, for which Antonia longs in a hilariously inwardly bold, outwardly silent kind of way. I'm not kidding. Pick this one up, you'll be all gushy inside yourself.************************************************************************************
Meanwhile, Marlene Perez's Dead Is the New Black didn't win me over, and typically I'd just say this was probably better-suited as a middle grade novel, except apparently there might be FACTORS. I hate factors, but they exist anyway. In this case the factor is this: Marle
ne Perez writes for 'reluctant readers'. Now, I realize I am not a normal person when it comes to reading. I am a reading freak of nature. I know several others, but the general populace is not made up of readers like me. Some people would rather east a vat of spinach swimming in Tabasco sauce rather than read a book. I'm guessing that's Perez's targeted audience, which is why the book is sort of the paint-by-numbers equivilant of the countless vampire novel knock-offs out there. I didn't hate it, but it was so freakin' easy to predict every outcome I resented it for not surprising me at least a little. So, I guess my verdict is, if you're a 'reader' better to hold off on this one, but maybe if you have a friend or relative who isn't a reader, you can always pick up a copy and see if they bite. Uh, no pun intended.
ne Perez writes for 'reluctant readers'. Now, I realize I am not a normal person when it comes to reading. I am a reading freak of nature. I know several others, but the general populace is not made up of readers like me. Some people would rather east a vat of spinach swimming in Tabasco sauce rather than read a book. I'm guessing that's Perez's targeted audience, which is why the book is sort of the paint-by-numbers equivilant of the countless vampire novel knock-offs out there. I didn't hate it, but it was so freakin' easy to predict every outcome I resented it for not surprising me at least a little. So, I guess my verdict is, if you're a 'reader' better to hold off on this one, but maybe if you have a friend or relative who isn't a reader, you can always pick up a copy and see if they bite. Uh, no pun intended.
