I’m going to the library tomorrow. I’ve been planning it for a week now. A lot of the time, if I don’t plan something in advance and rehearse exactly how it’s going to go, I wind up not doing it. But not the library, dammit. If you’ve ever seen Empire Records, going to the library for me is sort of like Rex Manning Day for Corey.
The last time I went, I was with my roommate. He tailed me around for a while, and then he was on his phone. It kind of ruined my happy place. But tomorrow, I’m going alone. I’ve set aside 5 hours of library time. I’m pushing back my work. I’ve got my clothes laid out. I. Am. Ready.
I’ve always had a fondness for libraries, books, and reading. I started reading when I was two. My mother stayed at home with me until the time I started kindergarten and, being an avid reader herself, pretty much drilled into me the importance of books and learning. The second house we lived in wound up being about half a mile from a library, and we would walk together every other week so that I could enjoy my research and she could pick up some new horror novels. I don’t think either of us thought much of the fact that I would devote my time solely to one or two sections of interest, but apparently that was an Aspie flag. It’s not my fault the paranormal section was fascinating.
This is my library now. And that is why I’m setting aside so much time – the place is huge. I’m so excited about going, it’s kind of ridiculous. It’s probably a good thing I don’t drive, otherwise I would be that dork that hangs out in the library every afternoon, huddled in a secluded corner and looking kind of suspicious when people happen to pass by.
Shut up, are you serious? A Thriller outfit, holy crap! And several others, too! There’s even Michael’s White House visit outfit. I can’t even. This may interfere with my Number 48 plans. Or maybe not. I’ll just make every day Halloween.
[Note: Yet another shameless copy-paste job from a site I used to have. I like this article too much to let it disappear into the ether.]
Werewolves. They’re awesome. Despite not having quite the publicity team as vampires in the realm of modern horror, werewolves hold their own and definitely have factions of hardcore fans who fully support them. Despite being Team Vampire (sorry for those that aren’t, and also sorry for using the tired “Team (Whatever)” phrase), I do have a soft spot for werewolves, and not because they’ve chosen to tenderize me for future consumption. Something about the absolute primal nature of the wolves speaks to me in a way that it probably speaks to most people who adore them; whereas vampires are structured, sometimes even rigid in their mannerisms and all the rules that go along with them, werewolves basically do what they want, when they want. They’re as close as a human can get to uncivilized without completely losing themselves. They’ve got, essentially, three different drives–eating, sleeping, and mating. And really, when it comes down to it, isn’t that what drives all of us?
In Hollywood, werewolves began as simply men with some patchy fur glued on, hopping around bipedally and occasionally growling at people and howling at the moon. Lon Chaney is, of course, the quintessential old-school werewolf. Who doesn’t think of his face when you hear something about werewolves? Universal Studios created their fair share of movie monsters, and their werewolf was the go-to form for quite some time. Truthfully, though, the whole time lapse transformation was lacking. And therefore, something better had to be done.
Enter An American Werewolf in London. I can’t even begin to describe how much I love this movie. If marriage to a bit of celluloid were possible and not the least bit creepy, I would marry it. And attempt to mate with it. It would fail miserably, but I would hope that it would result in tiny person-movies that transformed during their special time of the month. That definitely crossed a weird line, so allow me to move on.
An American Werewolf in London pretty much single-handedly changed the game for werewolf standards. There was no time lapse transformation. There was no gluing bits of a carpet on some dude’s face and pretending he’s the scariest thing on earth. There was a full, unadulterated, semi-risque transformation, and we watched every painful second of it. You could literally feel his bones breaking and stretching, and it was amazing. The final product is one of the best werewolves, if not the best, in cinematic history.
Over the years, the ratio of vampire to werewolf movies has to be something like 11,000,000,000:1, and sadly, the few werewolf flicks to be made tend not to be anywhere near the level of satisfying as I would like. Jack Nicholson as a wolfman? Boring. Let’s not even talk about Cursed.
Actually, let’s talk about Cursed.
What the hell was that, anyway? I mean seriously? And the werewolf flips people off? I’m not even sure I can enjoy this on a purely camp level, and that hurts my feelings as I love Christina Ricci and Joshua Jackson was my teenage fantasy boyfriend. Don’t watch Cursed. You’ll hate it.
In a similar vein, Hollywood for some reason felt the need to make a sequel to London by bringing the action to Paris and having a girl–a GIRL!–werewolf. The result? Something that, if given an option between watching again and eating my own tongue, I would sooner eat my tongue. The CGI is atrocious and the acting is sub par. I was even disappointed with Bush for providing the “theme.” Unfortunately, werewolf CGI hasn’t felt the need to attempt to improve in the years to follow (See: Cursed‘s teddy bear…rabbit…thing).
So what would it take to make a successful werewolf flick? A lesson from back in the day. Puppeteering and makeup are not your enemy. Yes, we’re living in a technological age, but really, take a look at what’s been put out as far as CGI wolves. It doesn’t look quite as natural or beastly and instead reads like someone’s video game accidentally invaded a movie, and it’s a bad game at that. By taking that extra step and actually having a werewolf model you can touch, you’re almost guaranteed to have somewhat of a success. Look at The Howling. Sure, the wolf kind of had bunny ears, but you’d probably wet your chinos if that thing came after you with its walking upright and basically screwing with your head just because it’s funny. And, more recently, Ginger Snaps. The wolf apparently had a case of mange, given that there was hardly any hair, and its face looked a bit like a rat, but they put out the effort and it paid off. See? Not that hard. With the upcoming Benicio del Toro movie The Wolfman, it’ll be interesting to see what the genre has in store. Maybe it won’t disappoint, given that Rick Baker (RICK BAKER! Watch my fangirl glee.) is on the makeup team.
Now, upright versus quadrupedal wolves, that’s a whole other article. (For the record–Team Quad.)
I read this article on Psychology Today a while ago about a woman with Asperger’s, and how different women with the condition are than their male counterparts. The whole thing is pretty fascinating, and I found myself identifying with a lot of what it said about the girl, Kiriana.
Kiriana’s similar strategy amounts to remembering and rehearsing scripts. When she walks into a clothing shop, for example, she pulls up a mental dialogue box: “No thanks, I’m just looking,” is what one should say if a saleswoman offers help. But as Attwood points out, such playacting is not intuitive, and is therefore exhausting.
My mental Rolodex is full to bursting with appropriate responses to typical small talk. If I’m totally honest, I never called to order pizza for myself until about two years ago, and I only had to learn because my mother passed away. Ordering food is almost traumatic because it can be unpredictable. I try getting around that by ordering the same thing every time, at every place. God help me, though, if someone asks me to repeat myself. Repetition is not in my script. It makes me panic.
Psychologist Shana Nichols has noticed that nearly all the girls with AS that she sees are avid animal lovers. “Animals don’t care if you can’t have small talk about the weather,” she says. “There’s just not as much anxiety as there is with human interactions, so you can really connect.”
There’s not much to elaborate on here. Fits me to a T. Check out the article sometime if you want to try understanding Asperger’s a little more clearly.
For the first time in my life that I can remember, I am cable tv-free. It’s little weird, but not as hard as I thought it would be, and saving money is pretty damn nice. Because there’s no cable, I’m relying on watching movies and TV show boxed sets for entertainment when I feel like watching something. So I’ve finally gotten around to watching both Twin Peaks and The Prisoner. I bought both sets early last year and never sat down to watch because I have something of an attention span problem and honestly, I just like opening packages and not actually using the contents.
I wish I’d watched them both sooner. I am in love.
Agent Dale Cooper is pretty great, but I want to ramble about Number 48. Number 48 appears only in the final episode of The Prisoner, called “Fall Out.” His role in the episode, though, is fairly important. It’s probably for the best that he was contained to only one episode or else I might spontaneously combust with glee.
So, I love him. And I think for Halloween, I’m going to be him. Or, hell, I’ll just dress up like that for absolutely no reason. It’s a pretty fly outfit. The problem I’m going to have is finding a marching band/military jacket. On the plus side, at least once I find it, I’ll cover both my love of Number 48 and my love of Michael Jackson with one fantastic piece. So keep your eyes peeled for me.
I can’t even think properly, this dress is so great.
It’s just…Wow. And this is coming from someone who normally cannot stand floral patterns (hooray, youth spent wearing old lady clothes!). I want this dress to be wrapped around me right this second. At $595, it will never, ever happen. But I will continue to dream. Or maybe look for a cheap knock-off.
I’m obsessed with ’50s fashion. Seriously. If I could somehow cheaply replace my entire wardrobe with ’50s-style dresses, I would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, doing so would by no means be cheap. On top of that, I tend to convince myself that wearing such things isn’t something that I should do, since it’s not exactly conventional. However, I’m reaching a point in my life where conventions mean basically nothing, and I just want to do what makes me comfortable and happy. And what would make me happy is this dress.
I adore Pinup Girl Clothing. I’ve been wanting a dress from there for years and years, but, like I said, I’m good at talking myself out of it. But I’m going to buy this dress one day, dammit. And I will rock it. There are a billion other dresses on that site, and others, that I feel like I need in my life, but this one is my first and foremost interest.
Why the ’50s? I don’t know. I honestly can’t tell you. Maybe it’s got something to do with a past life, who knows. I just know that more often than not, I enjoy the style. In a similar vein, I enjoy corsets and must incorporate them into my wardrobe as well. Victorian and Elizabethan clothes are another passion of mine, but I know full well walking down the street in a giant gown would be a bit…off. So I’ll settle for just a corset. Whenever and if I ever get married, though, it’s no holds barred on the dress.
Different time period, but I still really really love this dress.
On the whole, I dislike peep-toe shoes. I know a good deal of ’50s-style shoes are, in fact, peep toe, and this makes me sad panda. But I just can’t get behind the whole tiny hole in which you catch a glimpse of toe. It’s awkward. And quite frankly, I don’t like feet, or toes, so I don’t need to peep at them.
These shoes are making me eat those words, though.
There is a werewolf on the shoe. There. Is a werewolf. On. The. Shoe. Can someone loan me $44? These shoes were basically designed specifically for me.
When did The Avenue start making cute clothes? When I was younger, it was right up there with Lane Bryant for making me look like a middle-aged career woman rather than a teen. But I just checked their site and I would wear 80% of what they’re selling. Like this:
What IS this? Why do things get cooler once I’m older that were formerly kind of lame? Like young adult books. When I was an actual young adult, the best we had was Christopher Pike. And now when I look at the young adult section at the bookstore or library, I’m more inclined to read those than actual adult books.
Except Twilight. Screw that book.
Anyway. The Avenue’s got cute dresses now. Maybe I’ll buy one or two.
