Eyelinersmudge's Blog

It's been a while, Buzznet. I pop in, I say Hello, and then I poof again. I apologize for this habit. We all know Buzznet changed a long time back and I never did adjust to the interface, but I was looking through my old photography a few nights ago and I sure do miss a community to post it to.

Sure, I have Tumblr (http://timetravelingdandy.tumblr.com/) but I mostly post Sherlock and other Benedict Cumberbatch related things there. I miss having a place to post personal things and to blog and just to have that sense of community again. Plus, with Tumblr being more like SPIN! magazine these days, it's good that I'm on here. As a Stylist, I need to keep up with what's modern. ....and Not  related to British television.

    So, Buzznetians, what have I missed?

   I've been away collecting my thoughts.  Collecting what I'm going to do with my life really.   So much has changed for me mentally since the start of this year.  I suppose in my tangible world things have shifted as well.   The last five months I've had far too much time with my mind, but it's really only been the past oh, month really that I've given up the pretense and started to let those forgotten thoughts come through.

    I've deicided to walk away from the nursing field.  I was one Hell of a CNA with aspirations of becomign a surgical nurse someday.  My last job was less than ideal.  I was being verbally abused and sexually harrassed on a daily basis.   Anxiety would build in my chest from the moment I'd go to bed and think that I had to wake up and walk into that horrid situation until the moment I found myself going home at night.  I had maybe three hours where I should have felt alright.   Instead, the sexual advances that had been made at me left me feeling dirty and tainted.  After I was hit several times I deicided it was time to seek a new client.  Things did not flow as professionally as they should have and I found myself without a job.

     Meanwhile, my relationship was undergoing a huge ammount of stress.   Given the uncleanliness I felt from work it was very difficult to be affectionate with Tanner.  I gained very little enjoyment from being touched or kissed.  It was hard for me even to speak romantically because I just felt so icky.   Added was the finicial stress. I had to fight the company I was working for to get my paycheque.  Even though I had another job on the string, I would not be starting work there for another two weeks and would not be payed for two more weeks after that.   My boyfriend was not willing to take his car to come see me and though he offered to pay for fuel, by the time it came to filling up the tank he'd shrug his shoulders and leave me hanging because he'd spent his money essentially on toys.   I'd explain to him my situation and he would tell me that he was coming to see me.   I'd prepared for a good week for him to come see me.  We had an evening laid out and everything.   His plan was to leave promptly in the morning.   I waited all day for his arrival.  In the afternoon, mere hours before the movie we were supposed to see he calls and says "Yeah, I'm not coming." Yet, I stuck with him. 

    In the rush to make some money to buy my boyfriend something for Valentines Day and his birthday the following month, I applied for a valet job.  I immediately was selected for the orientation interview.   They out lined every job.  They made the comment that the job as a "bell attendant" (AKA bell hop) was the most physically difficult.  I heaved a sigh of relief, glad that wasn't the job I'd applied for.   I made it through the final interview and they broke us off into groups where we were given our job offers.  The recruiters said they went outside the job preferences applicants had listed and stuck people where they felt they'd "do best."  I was absolutely crushed when they handed me my offer and told me I was going to be a bell hop.   I was ideal for a valet position.   I'm an extremely cautious driver who feels comfortable behind the wheel of anything.  I'm gentle with cars.   I'm condifent in traffic.   I come from a very car oriented family (my father, mother and sister all currently have jobs involving automobiles.)  I grew up around cars and havea respect for them.  Yet being a bell hop was what they felt I would be best at?  But, I had no other choice than to accept the job. It was stupid, but I drove home almost in tears over it. 

     I was torn up about not only how I had been slighted (the hotel went with all men as their valets.  Hmmmmm) but I was also sick over the uniform policy.  The hotel required that all Bell Hops had NO tattoos and all employees wore LEATHER shoes.  Non-compliance with either policy cost a person their job.   Once more I feeling the heat over my ink.  I was researching make-up to cover it.  The one thing I couldn't get around was the shoes.  I was strapped for cash and they were asking me to buy leather shoes which is something I'm very morally opposed to.  I knew it was my livelihood, but I just couldn't justify spending twice the ammount of money for shoes that something had to die for than it would cost for a pair of nice animal-friendly shoes.   My mom talked me out of it.   She didn't want me working some place that narrow minded, nor did she want me to do an extremely physical job with my fusion.  So I declined the offer and was back to stage one.

    Valentines came and Tanner acted like it didn't exist.  He was off work and everything.  Not even a Facebook message or a text to acknowledge that hey, it's Valentines Day and he was thinking of me.   Major cracks in our relationship were starting to show.  As the month went on, I was getting very frustrated.  He planned out another trip and then spent all week trying to find a way to get out of it.  I, who had money enough to pay for my car and eat ramen and white bread, was only going to get to see him if I drove out half way, picked him off and dropped him off again.   I declined.   As long as we'd dated it had always been meet carting his ass around and thought at one point I'd so foolishly worshipped that ass I didn't have the money to cater to him.  Later in conversation he mentioned he loved his most recent ex and she still loved him.  I tried to ignore it, but when he started saying things like "I feel like we're young and gotta grow and meet other people"  the sick feeling hit my stomach that there was a likelihood I was being cheated on.  

    Seeking out male advice, I called my father.   He told me how to approach the topic and gave me other really good advice that opened my eyes.  It started simply with me asking Tanner if what he meant when he did his whole thing about needing to grow was that I needed to start dating other people.  He said no, so I asked him what he meant.  Tanner accused me of accusing him of being unfaithul.  I'd never uttered a word about it to him.  All I'd asked was if he was hinting around that he wanted to see other people.  When I asked him about his ex-girlfriend he defended her like a loyal dog, yet insisted there was nothing going on between them and that he never even talked to her and didn't say anything about loving her (He'd told me he was in love with her TWICE.  Once when we first started dating and the time I mentioned above.)   It may not have been fair, but I told him that if nothing was going on and he wasn't in contact with her then he wouldn't mind removing her from his life so our relationship could strive.  

    He called me mean, hateful, selfish and everything in the book save for what he really meant: Bitch.  When he deicided he wanted his ex-girlfriend I told him I was gone.  He attempted to take back what he had said, but I heard enough.  I asked him why he'd rather be with a homewrecker than me. He hung up.  I felt bad and attempted to call him and make right.  He ignored me...for three weeks.  I went about the mourning process.   I accepted that the relationship was over, sat on the couch and cried as I watched (500) Days of Summer .   The movie set me straight.  It gave me a good handle on things and I moved on.   I went on a couple dates.  I met a really great guy who has become an awesome friend (and nothing more), applied for school and got my life back on track.  I was doing great.

    Three weeks later, Tanner gets ahold of me.  I remained polite but matter of a fact, not interested to give him very much because I was done with him.  This went on for days.   It turned out that Tanner hadn't accepted my breaking up with him.  He figured that because he took back what he said we were together still.  I was facted with the difficulty of opening up barely healed wounds and breaking up with him again.    He's horrible to deal with.  Like a spoilt child.   We still have things to exhange, but a guy my mom works with has offered to do it for me.    It's a door I'd like to slam shut, but he keeps wanting to re-hash things.  Which isn't going to happen. 

   Free of the boyfriend baggage I found I suddenly had a sector of my thoughts and a portion of my day back to myself.  I nearly landed a job at my favourite book store.  I made it through final interviews, but they went with a different person.  Which, turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  The school that had accepted me for the fall had accidentally sent out letters of acceptance to all applicants.  When they called me to tell me that I wasn't really accepted and they wanted me to re-do my application I was a bit disheartened.  Then I saw the fruit in it.  There was no way I could have afforded it seeing as it was a private university.  And even if I did, I'd be worn out from working as a nurse aide and training to go up in the field.   Then my mother, God Bless her, told me to think about what I really wanted to do with my life.  

    It occured to me that as much as I enjoyed the nursing field, it's not my calling like it used to be.   Being a nurse never would have been enough for me.  I'd've wanted to go on, maybe even studied to become a Doctor or something else and if it's taken me this long to get nursing on the road well...  The hours were hard and miserable.  Could I handle the stress of life and death anymore?  Further more, how long will my spinal fusion hold if I'm abusing it everyday like I have been as a nurse aide?   Would striving for a medical career make me feel as happy as the profession was noble?   Did I want to spend years in school, get up to my eyeballs in debt, possibly blow out my back and play Russian roulette with my emotional well being?   Or do I want something that I will enjoy even if it lacks the prestige and noblity?

     This lead me to apply at the Paul Mitchell Beauty School.  I start there next month, should all go as plan.   I'm very excited.   I've wanted to go to beauty school for a long time, but my father never approved of it.   I still don't have his support on the matter, and it breaks my heart that he won't even acknowledge that this is what I want to do with my life and will provide me with a career I can be happy in.   He wants me to be a nurse, and I've a terrible worry that when I got to Iowa for Memorial day there is going to be some sort of intervention involving me giving up dreams of hair and make-up and going back to nursing school.   But, I'm an adult now.  Daddy didn't help me pay for college last time, and he's not the one paying this time. 

    My mother is behind me 100%.  She's agreed to help me with my costs of living while in school and doesn't even care if I get a part time job (which I do plan on getting a part time job once school starts.)  She feels this the best move for me and I'm thankful for it.  She sees my potential.   I've always been the one who did her hair, and my my niece liked her hair so much that she asked me to do her hair.  After I did my niece's hair my sister saw I had a knack for it and asked me to cut her hair a few weeks ago.   I've not the slightest idea what I'm doing, really, but I'm very good at it.  Cut and colour, I'm the one they come to in the family.   My mom feels that if I had the proper training I could make a good living at it and I agree with her. 

    I'd been so frustrated because it seemed like every job I applied for that was promising fell through, but now I see why.  I feel like this is what I'm supposed to be doing.  I've been so happy since I've gained this direction.  I've lost my winter weight and am almost to where I was when I first moved to Indiana.   In fact, by the time I start school I should be below that point and within easy reach of my goal weight.   I find myself taking interest in things again.  I fell behind in my thirty-book challenge because I just didn't have what it took to read.  I guess I was uber down, or something.   Then, as everything changed, I found myself becoming a voracious reader once more.   I've picked up a Sherlock Holmes collection from the library and it hasn't had a chance.  Three hundred pages of tiny print forming two novels and three short stories that I'm more than half way finished with and I haven't even been at it a week yet. 

    Speaking of, the simple pleasure that it is, I'm digging on Sherlock Holmes so hard these days.   Cannot get enough.   Last night, I was staying at my sister's place so I could take my nephew to school this morning and it was just my luck that my favourite film adaptation was on (Sherlock Holmes (2009)).    It was getting late and I was tired but I just had to stay up and watch it since really, how can I ever say no to these two?

   Also, on that same note, Stephen Fry is going to be in the next Sherlock Holmes!   This is significant seeing as in the movie Wilde  (One of my favourites)  Stephen Fry played Oscar Wilde (my favourite writer) and Jude Law played his most famous lover Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas (whose poetry I performed in Forensics and know by heart.)  When I found out I had a HUGE fangirl moment that no one quite understood.   I'm really hoping Guy Ritchie is generous enough to throw in a little Easter Egg for those who enjoyed Wilde.  That movie has very special memories attached to it.   In high school, my friends would spend the night at my place and we'd all watch in absolute aw.  I was always so proud that I was the only person in a two-hundred mile radius thahad a copy of the film readily availible and there for it as well as Bosie and Wilde became synonymous with me and the teenage Dandy life I tried to project.   Also, Wilde is where my innate adoration of Jude Law stemmed from.   I mean, he played the role of Bosie perfectly.  

    Anyroad, I'll stop because I'm about to turn this into a Jude Law appreciation blog.   I will just say though that Doctor John Watson has long been one of my favourite literary characters and I felt Jude Law did the role justice.  Through and through, he will always be my Watson.  And I'm eager to see how he and Stephen Fry will play against each other once more.

   I think I've rambled long enough.    One of these days I believe I'll post a photoblog with my grave yard pictures in them, seeing as I'd feel funny (and super vain) bogging down your feed with a million pictures of me.

   Nighty-night <3

     Unless you live under a rock (or maybe in Iraq) you've heard the news that the beautiful Elizabeth Taylor has left us.  She's gone to the glorious plains of heaven where there is no scoliosis, no heart problems, no one suffering from blood born illnesseses.  Just the happiness that only those who have gone away on a final holiday know.  She's back with Richard and Mike and Jimmy and all those she's lost by having the fortune (or as some may see it misfortune) of a long life.

    I was deeply saddened by the news.  I read about it on Facebook and at the same moment the news started playing a reel about her passing.  They showed a clip of her fainting in Giant and I just lost it.   I know it's silly to cry over a celebrity, but Elizabeth Taylor was a major part of my life.  She first entered when I was six years old and I'd taken an interest in ancient Egypt.   My mother, being the sort to encourage my interest to flourish noticed that Cleopatra  would be on cable one night and allowed me to stay up late and watch it.

     I sat spell bound through the entire movie.  I was captivated by Elizabeth Taylor.  I thought she was absolutely beautiful, yet strong and powerful.  I had a completely new idea of what a woman could be.  While my friends wanted to grow up and be mommies, I'd decided I was going to grow up to be Elizabeth Taylor. 

      My next childhood experience with Miss Taylor involved her infamous fragrance  line (of which I am an avid fan.)   Soon as I was able to recognize who Elizabeth Taylor was I started paying more attention to what I was seeing on TV.  I was absolutely thrilled one day after school to discover that not only was the stunning woman who I'd seen play the ruler of Egypt but she was in commericals.   Not just any commericals, but commericals selling her own perfume!   She wasn't just an actress.  She was a business woman.

      That Christmas my grandmother sent my mom what I thought to be the most wonderful of gifts:  Elizabeth Taylor's Fragant Jewels gift set!   It came in a satin box, with velvet lining.  Inside the box where small, tear-drop shaped bottles, topped with bejewelled bows containing amber-coloured liquid.  My love of glittering objects having started a young age, found the unsual bottles to be one of the most awe-inspiring things I'd ever seen.   

     I'd admire the bottles sitting on my mother's dresser, and watched with an intense interest whenever she used them.   One week my sister came into town and she and my mother and my father, deicided to go to the opera.   I sat on the bed and watched while carefully she applied the perfume after getting all dressed and made-up.  I suppose it was then that I started associating the scent of Elizabeth Taylor's White Diamonds with being a full grown adult lady.   It had to me  the very scent of sophistication, and I thought that maybe some day, when I was woman and not just a little girl I too would wear that wonderful perfume.

      Elizabeth Taylor lied in recess in my life for a time.   She re-newed her place when I was fourteen and my scoliosis had gone from detectable to indeed of a swift operation or else my body would be forever bent sideways and on top of itself.  It was a very confusing and scary time for me, though I did my vest to try not to think about it.  The surgery wasn't the hard part.  It was (and often times still is) learning to cope with the fact that my body, unlike most of the world's, is marred by a physical deformity.   Though my surgery straightened my back up a good deal, I've still been left with hips the twist opposit ways, shoulders that will never be even, a rib cage that is noticely lopsided when I lie down, rolling ankles, one leg that seems a good inch longer than the other and worst of all a weird hunch on my back from where my spine/shoulderlade is pushed out.   (I also tend to tilt my head slightly to the right.  I'm not sure if it's from the curves in my spine or that I saw the world crooked for so long that holding my head straight knocks around my equilibrium.)    At that awkward age of slipping from childhood it was a bitter pill for me to swallow.  Not only was I suddenly in an alien body, but unlike my classmates who were become more attractive thanks to nature's changes, I was developing into a fat version of Golem. 

      I was fairly certain that I was going to spend the rest of my life an outsider because of it.  I'd live and die alone, because no man would be about to see past the fact that my body wasn't normal.  It was frightening.  I spent many days absolutely blue over it.  Then my dad said something that changed my outlook.  "Doesn't Elizabeth Taylor have Scoliosis? I swore I heard her on TV talking about it." 

    Over the years my dad has said a lot of things, but that statement has been one of the most valuable things he ever said to me.    Elizabeth Taylor had scoliosis and had multiple suergeries for it.  Yet, she was still considered one of the most beautiful women in the world.  AND, she'd been married more times that even people with straight spines had!    She made me feel like, even though I wasn't Helen Troy, that people could look past my deformity--may not even notice it--and I could still have people find me attractive.  (It's a silly thing to worry about, being pretty, but to a forteen-year-old girl it's everything.)

     Over the past year, my James Dean fascination has brought Elizabeth Taylor around once more.  I've read many books and interviews about the two, and of course, adore watching them enteract on screen together (in fact I have a little geekgasm every time I see them in the same still).   To speak of Jimmy and Liz together would involve an entire blog, so I'll try to keep it breif.

     In Giant the two played dynamically on screen with Taylor claiming the role of Leslie Benedict, the young wife of a Texas Blue blood, and Dean as Jett Rink, the resentful ranch hand with an unspoken love for Leslie.   The pair's friendship was just as dynamic on set as it was off set.   Elizabeth Taylor spent rehearsals and the beginning of filming certain that James Dean hated her (so much so that rumour has it, she was driven to tears.) Vibrant as the characters she played, she approached him about it and after that the two hit it off. 

     Elizabeth Taylor loved Jimmy as though he were her own.  With her dark hair and milky complexion (like his mother), she was exactly the sort of woman that James Dean found himself drawn to.  Often concerned about him roaming around at night and spending time away at races, she thought maybe having a pet would make him spend more time at home.  She gave Jimmy a siamese kitten (who he named Marcus), that was featured in several photo shoots.

   Such small and sweet stories about Jimmy and Elizabeth I've read a plethora of in the past few months.  Every book I've ready on James Dean talks about her involvement in his life.  As my eyes take in every word, their friendship is alive once more.  Seeing how Elizabeth Taylor loved my favourite little boy lost and how he loved her back makes me adore her all the more. 

     Elizabeth Taylor was to me what a woman should be.   She was one of the few few female role models I had, and will always be one of my heroines. 

        Elizabeth, you beautiful, caring, talented woman.   For all the work you've done, the charity you've given and the hearts you've warmed, I know you must be someplace wonderful now.   Goodbye for this life.   You shall live forever through your films and in the minds and hearts of those who adore you. 

     Banners, they're everywhere on Buzznet!  Everyone has their own personalized banner that says something unique about that person!  Mimi doesn't have a fancy header, but she certain uses a snazzy font.  Chris P. Bacon's banner consisted of a crocoduckile (or is it a duckagator?).  JJ and Annie have animated banners that showcase their photographic adventures.   Jacob's banner is very simple, stating his Buzznet URL.  John's header is extremely trippy.  Kristyn uses a screen cap of looking up her screen name as a banner.   Everyone has really awesome banners.

    Then, you have mine.   In the beginning, my banner was pretty neat.  I loved it and it loved me.  For a good year it's been up there, staring at me from behind the glare of my computer screen, unchanging.  Once there was a time when my page's layout changed as the seasons.   Every four months or so it would be time for something new.   How this same layout--this same banner-- has remained in place for so long is nothing short of laziness and a lack of creativity on my part.

I've deicided it's time to change my ways and sieze hold of my Buzznet page's aesthetic appeal once more!   In order to do that, I thought maybe I'd take a little walk down Buzznet memory lane by sharing some past banners, and banners I made that never were.

Let us begin!

   This banner here graced my page back in 2008 or early 2009.  I can't say I quite remember.   I liked it because, I thought since my screenname is Eyelinersmudge, having my made-up eyes would be befitting, crazy eyebrows and all.   I also thought what was more creepy that having eyes watching you whenever you visited my page?   I believe this banner was paired with a colourized picture of Oscar Wilde as a background.

   In late 2009 I discovered the orginal Bedazzled and subsiquently fell in love with Peter Cook and his red socks.  I thought what better suited my new found romance than one of my favourite scenes, featuring the beloved red socks?   Along with this banner my page went quite British with a union jack background on my boxes and Peter Cook dressed as a Nun as my back ground for a time, before the "Love Ect." album cover took it's place.

    We come to my current banner.   I frequently sip from the fountain of Manic Street Preachers, and having this as a header matched with Richey Edwards as a Sucide Bride seemed the best way to pay tribute.   This banner was the third and final in a line of Manics header I made in my quest to find the right one.

Banners That Never Were

      NME realeased a magazine with pictures of Richey Edwards that had gone "unseen."  This was one of the photos.  I instantly adored the picture and deicided on a whim to make it my header.   Unfortunately, I wasn't sure about it, given that it's a vertical picture made horizontal, causing me to think of a side ways book mark.

      This was made in the same session.  Richey and Nicky being all lovely.    I don't know why I was so crazy about the black filter over the photos, but it was look I was into.   I didn't think that this had the "say something" quality I wanted my page to have, so I scrapped it and moved on to the header that is atop my page.

    Valentines Day 2010 I thought maybe it was time to spruce up  my page with this mirrored banner featuring Jens Lekman.  For some reason, I asked my mom for her opinion on it, and she quite liked it.  Unfortunately, I didn't like it enough to give my page a face lift afterall.

   I really expected that not to be so anti-climatic.  There is a silver lining to it all, luckily.  This is only part one, which one can infer means  there will be a Part Two!  (Unless of course I'm Mel Brooks.)  In my next Banner Blog, I'll share the banners I've been working on, and perhaps even the original images they're from. 

   Until then, go to your pages and thank God for the lovely banners every one of you reading this has.

        When I woke up this morning one thought coursed through my mind:  Lady Gaga's new single debuts today!  My head was filled with wonder as to what it would be like.  What new mind-blowing thing would Gaga bring to the table this time around?   The Fame was a benchmark that the rest of the music industry had to catch up to.  It created a standard that would make it easy for an artist to fall into a sophomore slump after, but I had faith in Lady Gaga.

      She brought us such eagwigs as "Just Dance,""Poker Face," and (my personal favourite) "Alejandro."  Lady Gaga was a bubble gum prodigy.   Just as the musical phenomenon Mozart found himself falling on his face due to his own quality, Gaga's new single "Born This Way" should be thrown in a pauper's grave, covered with lime and forgotten about.

     The song opens with Gaga saying "It doesn't matter if you love him or capital H-I-M.  Just Put your Paws up, because you were born this way, Baby." in the same monotone voice she's used to open prior tracks.  The first thing that comes to mind is what exactly this means.   Is Gaga saying it doesn't matter if you love Him or HIM, as in it doesn't matter if you love God or Satan?   Is say saying it doesn't matter if you love him or Him, devotion to man or God?  Or is she poising that it does not matter if you adore him, your man, or HIM, Valle Valo?   I took it to be Lady Gaga alluding to whether a man is a homosexual or a Satanist he is going to be hated by someone, but to be proud because that's who he is.   No matter how it is interpruted this lyric will definitely bring her more abhorrence, and there for more publicity, than the bland backing track she sings along to.

      At the begining the song comes in with an electronic clang, brought up to speed using the phazer effect, dropping to a gentle swell as Gaga sings "My Mama told me when I was young, we are all born superstars," puttting empathesis on the line in an attempt to make the listener feel special.   During "She rolled my Hair and put my lipstick on, In the glass of her boudoir," a line that tries to get the listener to reflect on the video for "Telephone", echo kicks in and the song speeds up.  It takes on the wooshy feel of 1980's house music, which is not only unspeakably tackybut harms her message.

      A great deal of the song seems to be refering to the LGBT crowd needing to stand up and embrace themselves.  Unfortunately, creating a music style that is evocative of what was played in the club during the 1980's  does not make this message inviting.  Instead, it brings up thoughts of a time where, though through the Gay Liberation movement Gay Rights were gaining mainstream acknowledgment, it was still a dangerous thing to admit.  Due to the AIDs crisis the Christain Right-Wing felt they were given the right to condemn homosexuality.  From there hate grew resulting in violent crimes.   If "Born This Way" is trully an anthem for this generation shouldn't it be styled to bring to mind the triumphs that have been made in the way of Gay Rights over the past twenty years?  If, we're on "the right track" as Gaga claims than why so stuck in the past?

     Her house-style music isn't the only thing that's been used before in this song.  During the bridge we hear the same stomp and scream that introduced "Teeth" on The Fame Monster.  Nor is the house style the only contridiction present in "Born this Way."  Echoing back to the opening of the song Gaga sings "Believe in H-I-M" in nearly the same breath as singing "God makes no mistakes."   If H-I-M is a reference to Satan why should it be he who you believe in when Gaga says that it was God who made you this way?  There as well is the line about the "Religion of the insecure" prior which one could assume is Gaga saying if mainstream religion isn't going to support us let's turn the opposite way.   A less offensive way of viewing it is perhaps Gaga is trying to poke at the firestorm she's come under due to claims that she's a tool of Illuminati.   Though Gaga has not denounced it, she did confess to Rolling Stone about having Illuminati nightmares and has been known to delete anyone from her followers on Twitter wh obring up the Illuminati claims, even in passing. It's something that she is sensitive about but knows how to churn publicity from. 

     Publicity is a major asset of the persona that is Lady Gaga, and "Born This Way" is definitely going to generate it.  It is her first single of the new album and  contains odious lyrics on a backing track that sounds like teenager put together in Audacity.   The disappointment that is "Born This Way" is going to spark a media storm and there for sell records.   Will we see this song make it to the top 40?   You bet we will.   Despite the song not holding up to the quality of Gaga's previous tracks, "Born This Way" will sell millions of copies and even more on the illegal download circuit. 

     One can only hope that the rest of Gaga's album will not follow in this trend, and that should it go platinum, it's worth the money spent, because "Born This Way" is the musical equivalent of popping Percoset.   It eases the pain of long for a new Gaga single but it puts you sleep and leaves you feeling more down that you did before it entered you life.  

What do you think of Lady Gaga's new single?  Is it a hit or a miss? 

You know what one of the best things about my hero is? 

He's dead.

The worst thing you can do is meet your hero, you know?

  I'm reading a book on James Dean by Bill Bast (his best friend from college until the end of his life) and it's been a real...trip.   This is the third James Dean biography I've read and by far it's the most heady.  It's silly but thinking about it makes me tremble.  I believe it to be the most personal look at Jimmy that anyone could ever deliver.  I hold him in esteem over all other writers who have commited James Dean's life to pen, because the role of best friend in my mind is more blessed than that of a sibling.   Seeing as I'll be writing a review on the book when I finish it I'll save any further comments on Bast, as I'd hate to be redundant.

I will, however, go into the true context of this journal, and that is the personality of James Dean.   From the biographies I've read and interviews I've seen I've come to understand that he was... well, there's not even a collective word for it in my vocabulary.   Deeply sensitive, he was prone to bouts of silence an intense focus when something bothered him or he was preparing for roles.  If a film or book moved him he would watch/read it over and over again until it absorbed him.  He was often solitary, struggling to make friends despite the way people were drawn to him, and had a tendancy of "trying too hard" when he wanted someone to like him.   Perfection was important to him, as was clear in the manner he would be fixated in launching himself into things.  Dreams meant more to him above all else.  He'd take any chance he could to come closer to the end result.   Often, he was awkward, extending a conversation as long as he could until subject matter got over his head and then resorting to simply saying "Then, there, now." 

This range of behaviour is what my friends and I would jokingly call "total aspie", refering to acting in a manner that could be read as symptoms asperger's syndrome.  It is in debate whether or not James Dean was indeed an aspie (it was unheard of in the 30's-40's, when he was a child which is the key age of diagnosis.)   If James Dean has asperger's or if he was just unusual isn't the focus of what I'm writing, even though I always seem to write a bit off focused.  Rather it is that these characteristics I see in myself.

To say that I'm like James Dean is absolutely eye-roll inducing and far from true.  To state that there are similarities would be on key. 

Growing up in a small town, extremely Christian conservative upbringing and having competed in Forensics Championships in Longmont, Colorado aside, there are certain likenesses I've seen between Mr. Dean and myself.  The primary likeness being personality.   I've read about idiosyncrasies that Jimmy had that have made me sit up and say "That's me!  Oh my gosh, THAT is ME."  Once such quirk was whenever something good happened for Jimmy or there was potential of such he did not talk about it.  I've heard it said over and over again that he would hide news as if speaking of it would yank it away.    I've always done that same thing.  When I get a new job, win something or there is potential of an important break through in my life I am extremely reluctant to talk about it.  I feel like if I say something it will pervert things and in its fragility it will fall to pieces.  This trait has driven my mom insane all my life.  It's also caused people to think I'm a snob (actually lots of things lead people to believe that.)

For instance, when I knew I was moving to Indiana I didn't talk about it for two weeks.  Why?  Because I was afraid if I spoke it wouldn't happen.  There were many people I never told I was leaving because it would have jinxed things.  (Due to that I know a very twisted former best friend who would cut out my eyes if I came within ten feet.)  When James Dean left California for New York he discussed it briefly with Bill Bast and without saying anything to friends he took off.  The only indication he left was a message for Bill that said "Mister Dean left for New York."

Another habit that James Dean and both have kept is the habit of silence, or going into ourselves when something is troubling or a major performance is at hand.  I'm not talking about getting angry because, let's say your room mate keeps using your stuff without asking (apparently, Jimmy and I were both prone to outbursts over things of that nature.)  When Bill Bast lived with Jimmy he quickly grew used to his silence (though he hated it), his mother, was a different story.  She came to stay for a week and the last few days of her visit Jimmy felt beholden to her, something that extremely bothered him.  He spent the day avoiding her, not speaking even at lunch and intently focused on building a mobile.   It reduced her to tears when Bill came home.  (As a peace offering, Jimmy placed the mobile above her bed, which seemed to pacify her temporarily.)   Until then, I'd never heard of anyone else acting in a such a way.

     The Twins fequently complained to our mother about me doing the exact same thing.  They'd guilt me over something and I'd go to this place inside where to cope I would speak very little, focus on a project and the rest of the world ceased to exsist.  I can't explain it really.  I suppose it may seem like a horrible thign to do (though I'm not sure why) it's what makes sense to me.

Lastly tonight (though not the last in similarities), Jimmy and I shared an innate conviction towards man's greatest accomplishment being immorality.  It's a terrible thing for two intrinsically spiritual people to feel, but it's true.   James Dean said something along the lines of if a man lived beyond the gave, then maybe he'd done something great.   As long as I can remember I've shared this sentiment.  I have a strong drive to achieve the creation of something that will keep me past my expiration date.  As a kid I used to go into a panic over it.  My mom would tell me that it was ok for people to be "normal" but I never felt that was for me.   People who knew him said that Jimmy spoke as if someone had told him that he was going to be great, he just didn't know how, but he was always confident about it.

It's far from humble, but I've always held that same feeling.  There's more for me than being me.  I'm unstructured right now but someday, I'm going to do something that makes an impact--an imprint that is uniquely mine.   Occasionally, I've spoke of this with my mother, and she reminds me of the time I saved a man's life, but I know it's more than that.  I don't know what it is but there's something in store for me. Something giant.  I have a major purpose.

------

Seeing as Tuesday is Jimmy's birthday and I'm still reading Surviving James Dean I'll probably do more James Dean centric posts.   Despite the poster on my bedroom wall, I'd forgotten how much I adore Jimmy. 

Now you'll excuse me, it's late and I signed up for some volunteer work that starts in six hours. And I've yet to sleep a wink.

I love you, Buzznet Buddies.  You put up with my craziness.  ♥

Goal:  30 books read by Jan, 01, 2012

Books-read-to-date: 02/30

      Nuclear Time is a time riveting adventure by Oli Smith, starring the eleventh Doctor as played by Matt Smith and his companions Amy and Rory (played by Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill.)   This is the second book that I have read, this making me a closed cover closer to my goal of thirty books by 2012.  This book was yet another enjoyable read in the Doctor Who Series and the most challenging I've read yet.

      The book opens at the University of Michigan on February 23, 1977 where Doctor Albert Gilroy dances wildly to "Who's that Lady?" by the Isley Brothers in a glowing computer lab.  A janitor stumbles in, interrupting the chagrined Scientist, and announces that the Vietnam War has come to a close.   This split screens to Chicago as Major Geoffrey Redvers takes the route 57 bus home.  He stumbles through the rain to the front door of his home, where his wife awaits not with open arms for the return of her solider but rather passive disapproval.   War and the shunning from his wife has left Geoff a wounded man and he announces as much before the reader is whisked back to Michigan where Albert is making a shocking discovery:  The system he had spent years of his life slaving at has become sentient! With great love he names his creation Isley, unaware of just how deeply he will find himself involved with her in the years to come.

        Four years later, the TARDIS is touching down in Appletown, Colorado on an August afternoon.    What greets the Doctor and his companions, Amy and Rory, are desolate desert grounds...with an abandoned retro suburb planted smack dab in the middle.  Curious as Timelords and companions are they begin to explore.  Parched, Rory pulls Amy into a coffee house where a man appears to take their order.  But there is no time to worry about drinks because outside the window Amy has noticed the abandoned town has come to life! 

      They bolt out to meet the Doctor who has made the same discovery.  While he opts to make friends with the strange inhabitants of Appletown, Amy and Rory bolt off to investigate a shadow they witnessed peering out a window at them.   The Doctor is taken inside for a visit with the Saunderson, a perfect married couple.  The Missus shoves him on her husband who claims he is watching TV when the set isn't even on.  The Doctor ducks behind it to see what's the matter only to discover that not only is the television not plugged in, but also no power outlets are present in the house.  A startling realization hits the Doctor and he regards the pair with great caution until he his given time alone with Mister Saunderson. 

   Meanwhile, Amy and Rory find themselves upstairs in an empty home where a worn out man in his forties sits with a young woman named Isley.  For their own benefit he reveals the truth of Appletown to the young couple.  This information begins a dangerous cycle of cause and affect that leaves the man upstairs dead, Amy and Rory literally running for their lives and the Doctor living backwards through time while the TARDIS repairs itself. 

     The Doctor must piece together the history of Appletown in order to save his companions from the fate he knows the future holds, all before time lines up again.  Can he do it?  Will Amy and Rory survive?  And how do Albert and Geoff tie into the mystery of Appletown?  Such questions can only be answered by reading Nuclear Time.  

     The story was fine-tuned and so well knit together that there is very little I can say about it without spoiling the entire book.  It really, in terms of complexity, out stepped the other Doctor Who books I've read.  A major asset to the plot was the Doctor living backwards through time, which in itself is mind boggling, but the writer executed it well and even explained the manner in which it worked as to give the reader insight.  Another strength this particular Who book had were the characters.

     The plot line does not focus solely on the Doctor and his companions.  It spends a great deal of text on Geoff and Albert, something that in the beginning really put me off.  I was bothered that valuable words that should have been spent telling me what the Doctor was up to was being used enriching the friendship between the Army man and the Scientist.   What I learned by the middle point of the book was exactly how important the chemistry and story between the two was.  They were vital parts of the story, and in a way, much more important than the Doctor's companions. 

     They served as a very human side of the story.  Normally the villain is etched out in black and white.  While these two should have been the villains, inside the reader sees them as a man obsessed with his creation and another who has nothing left to live for but his career.  And while those characteristics may seem a point of evil, really they are fragilities that have been exploited by a higher and more calloused force.  The reader wants to see these two men be redeemed rather than punished for the wrongs that have occurred. 

     This life-life characterization I feel was not bestowed on the Doctor, Amy or Rory until two thirds through the book.  In the beginning the Doctor is quite flat (dim at times, even) and Amy and Rory are a cardboard couple in love.   I gave the authour the benefit of the doubt, assuming it was due to the book having come out in early July of 2010, therefore meaning a good portion of the book had to have been written before the new series (and therefore the new Doctor) had debuted.  The authour really wouldn't have had a taste of the Doctor on screen until then, which would have coincided with the point hew would have been at in writing the book.  Of course, jumping in at the end with an understanding of the characters made the end of the book vibrant, which is what most readers remember.

     Nuclear Time was a great read, but not one I'd recommend for an introduction into the Whoniverse.  The complications of time may be a bit confusing or dull for some readers, as well as the central focus being on side characters rather than the Doctor and his companions.  If you're looking for a faced-paced adventure this is not the book for you.   Should you be looking for a Doctor Who read with more context the Nuclear Time is perfect for you.

   With the revival of the 30 Book Challenge comes not only my first posting of my goal, BUT, my first book review of this challenge.  

Goal:  30 books read by Jan, 01, 2012

Books-read-to-date: 01/30

The Taking of Chelsea 426, a Tenth Doctor novel by David Llewellyn (please do not as me to pronounce that name, it's Welsh) marks the first book down in my quest to read thirty-books by the start of next year.   I have nothing but positivity to share about this book.  True, it is by no means hefty reading, but it is a good-old-fashioned-new-series Doctor Who Adventure.  

     The story takes place on Chelsea 426, an Earth space colony set up near the rings of Saturn.   For the first time in the Solar System the ability for plant life to grow has been culminated someplace other than Earth.  Such a groundbreaking scientific discovery has galaxies aglow with the news, and a flower show is being held on humble Chelsea 426 to display the strange Saturn flowers to the masses.   All is not what it seems on sleepy little Chelsea 426, as citizens who have been exposed to the flowers begin to act strangely.  They are not themselves; speaking in a strange synchronized English that is not quite right on cue.

    As hordes of intergalactic visitors come to Chelsea 426 for the flower show, the altered citizens are on alter, conscious of all and placed instantly ill-at-ease when a strange man in Chuck Taylor’s and a pin-striped suit boards at a local hotel.  Indeed, the Doctor is on the scene.  Reluctantly befriended by fourteen-year-old twins (Vienna and Jake, the children of the local inn keeper) he's set to see why these locals are acting so suspicious.   Things break through when the Doctor, the twins and their prim mother are given tickets to the flower show.   Detecting something is amiss, the Doctor instructs his newfound companions to flee the flower show moments before a strange blue flower sprinkles the crowd with green dust, which causes them to collapse.   Though the Doctor and the twins make it out, their mother is a causality.

      The Doctor is given little time to piece together exactly what has just happened, as suddenly Chelsea 426 finds itself under invasion by hideous-looking aliens known as the Sontarans.   Why they're there, what's going on with the flowers, and the strange citizens of Chelsea 426 are acting so unusually leads the Doctor to the grim discovery that he is standing in alien-race war that neither he nor the inhabitants of Chelsea 426 asked for.

     The story its self was extremely enjoyable.  There were multi-character focuses that served to progress the story and caused me, the reader, to see the events at hand from a view that I otherwise would not have assumed.  Every scene was meaningful and kept me on my toes, wondering what would happen next, and how exactly the Doctor was going to overcome the trouble dealt, especially when his adversaries overcame his means of fixing the situation.

     The characters, though not oceans of depth, were sentient.   There was someone, really, for every reader to relate to, which added to the understanding of the terror that the locals of a colony held hostage were experiencing.  Also, in the true tradition of solid Doctor Who writing, there was a sacrificial lamb, providing emotional jab that makes the franchise what it is.

    The characterization of the Doctor was a bit cartoony, but in my personal opinion, that's what the reader wants to see from David Tennant's Doctor.   It was not as over the top as the exaggeration has been in some of the other books.  The writer pulled heavily at the Doctor's love of alliteration and living at any chance he got to do the cliché.   Over all, a tangible version of David Tennant's Doctor in print.

      The Taking of Chelsea 426 was a quick read, but that did not blemish it as a piece of enjoyable literature.  I can honestly see myself re-reading it again when I have a Who craving.  If you're looking for a fun read or want to try a Doctor Who adventure, I highly recommend it. 

A million years ago, I created a group known as the 30 Book Challenge.  The premise of the group was simple:  Attempt to read thirty books in a year. 

    Each member made a list of the books they'd read and could even write reviews of the books they'd finished and post it to the group.   It was a neat idea (nicked from GreatestJournal, but that website is dead and gone, and their members never wrote reviews) and I'd like to spark it up again.  Which is to say, I'd love to see fresh faces join and get excitment about this stirred up again.

Before you consider joining, I'm sure you have questions, which I have addressed in a sort of FAQs form.

1. What can I read?

       You can read anything you want, but if you want to add it to your list it needs to fit the guidelines. Novels, novelettes, childrens books, ect. all count. Magazines and comic books on the other hand do not.  Graphic novels are allowed as long as they're over 100 pages, and will not comprise the entirity of your list.

2. What happens if I don't read 30 books in one year?

       No big deal! You don't have to set your goal for thirty books a year. You can tailor it to your liking. Do you want to read 12 books in a span of eighteen months? Do it! Think you can read 75 books in two days? Go for it! The group and myself are behind you 100%.  Just don't forget to log your progress!



3. What happens when I reach my goal?

      Party time! We'll congratulate you, pat you on the back, spam you with gifs and you have bragging rights!


4. How should I format my list in my journal?

Like so:


1. A Tale of Two Cities  by Charles Dickens
2. Rumble Fish By S.E. Hinton
3. The Picture of Dorian Gray By Oscar Wilde
4. My Life Now (Can't Recall the Authour)
5. Blind Sighted by Peter Moore
6. A Separate Peace By John Knowles
7. We Pointed them North By A.C. Abbot
8. The Raw Hide Years (I forgot who wrote it.)
9. The Importance of Being Earnest By Oscar Wilde
10. Night By Elie Visel
11. 1984 By George Orwell
12. Tom Sawyer By Mark Twain
13. In His Own Write By John Lennon
14. Great Expectations By Charles Dickens
15. No One Here Gets Out Alive: A Biography of Jim Morrison
16. All Quiet on the Western Front By Erich Maria Remarque
17. Tarantula By Bob Dylan
18. The Historian By Elizabeth Kostova

Also, you may add the dates that you read the book, pages and even a review (or a link to a journal with one) of the book if you want!

   If this sounds like something that would interest you, please join!

JOIN HERE

   Currently, the thread where every states who they are is locked, as it seemed a bit cumbersome and dated, as I don't see anyone really using fourms anymore.  What is perfered is if you post a little journal with what sort of books you like to read, what your goal is and any other crap you'd like to add.

   Hopefully, this year will turn out better than the intial year this started.

   Thank you everyone who has been reading these.   I apologise for not being very active on Buzznet today.  I work fourteen hours on Thursdays.   I'll be commenting and catching up with everyone tomorrow night and over the weekend.

My Views on Drugs and Alcohol.

  This same topic has been a mini-war several times this year.   I had a roommate who wanted to bring pot into the house and on Thanksgiving I ended up butting heads with a boy my age who had two DUIs and was trying to tell my teenage niece and eight-year-old nephew that pot is not addictive.  My views on drugs and alcohol are very staunch.   Living is enhanced by enjoying the simple things with your wits about you.   I'm about to go all after school special, but what is wrong with getting high on life?

    I'm not condeming all alcohol.   A glass of wine when enjoyed by a sensible adult is alright.  When people drink to excess, ESPECIALLY when it's UNDERAGED people drinking I have a major problem.   It hits very close to home for me.   Coming from a small area, I had friends that I've grown up with.  We spent years very close together and then adulthood set in.   All of these kids I'd grown with were bright.   There was one girl who was a stright A student and looking into law school and had what it takes to stay afloat in that setting.   Then, alcohol hit the scene.  There were mad drunken parties (that I was never invited to) that made all the gossip circles come Monday morning.   I heard horrifying stories of close friends of mine not using their minds and doing stupid things in a drunken moment.  What was going on was known due to the fact that on several ocassions my friend's illegal consumption of alcohol made it to the newspaper, yet no one stopped it.

     Not long afterwards, drugs started making the rounds.  I had drifted far from everyone and didn't believe what was going on until I saw it with my own eyes.  I made a special trip to go see my old friends, and when I did my heart was broken.   There a majority of them lived in a two person duplex, the ceilling always holding a haze of smoke and people who they'd never met littering the floor and furniture like some sort of cat house!   I couldn't stick around there so I invited the gal who once had a chance at law school out to dinner.   She was nothing like what she had been.  In the restraunt he was loud and unruley, glazed over from a hit she'd taken before leaving the house.  I didn't know if I wanted to melt in embarrassment or cry because I'd lose one of my best friends to an addiction.

    What could have been a briliant life went down in a splash of vodka falled by a ring of smoke.   These kids lives have been Hell.   They've been kicked out, some dropped out, and none of them have big plans for the future.   

   I could tell a million stories about how drugs and alcohol have ruined people's lives, but seeing childhood friends throw away their lives is what has taken a toll on me most.  I don't want to see anyone else go through their hardship or have families destoryed as their's have been.  This is why I think Drugs and Booze are LAME.