A humorous Easter prelude

During Good Friday service this evening I was sitting with my five-year-old brother, Elhendur, on my lap. He's a very clever, imaginative, and goofy little boy, and halfway through the service was extremely excited when he noticed that my grandmother and aunt were sitting two pews behind us. He grimaced and grinned in their direction for a while, trying to get their attention, and after a few minutes my aunt evidently noticed him, but my grandmother did not.

"I'm going to keep staring at her," he whispered to me, "until she sees me." Whereupon he fixed this ghastly stare and impossibly wide grin on his face and commenced his leering. This lasted about seven minutes, until his five-year-old patience wore thin and more drastic measures were apparently called for.

He tapped me on the arm. At this point in the service there was a hymn being sung and the priest had gone to bring in the Eucharist from where it was in repose after being taking out of the church in a procession the night before for Holy Thursday. So things were somewhat lulled. Still, I was somewhat distracted because I was listening to the choir--which was remarkably good tonight--and so only paid the cunning little guy half my attention.

"Say this," he was telling me. "Say: hibbly dibbly hobbly doo, I make Booma look at you!" ('I' meaning me, and 'You' meaning himself, and 'Booma' being the name my siblings and I give to my grandmother (long story.).)

Not thinking much of the request (I have really weird siblings, okay?), I did as he asked, in a church-appropriate undertone. He looked intently to where my grandmother was sitting, still oblivious.

After a moment he sagged in disappointment against my front, clearly put-out that nothing of note happened. But ever the optimist he then leaned back, looked up at me thoughtfully, and remarked musingly:

'I think you need a broom.'

And that was when I suddenly was very glad that the choir was singing loud enough to prevent anyone else from noticing that my younger brother had just been encouraging me to attempt witchcraft in the middle of the Good Friday church service.

Little kids. You gotta love them.

. . . Even when they matter-of-factly reveal that they think you are a witch in the middle of Mass.

In the Kitchen, Mostly

Nothing much to report about the last few days. I baked biscuits today, and yesterday I made cream of mushroom soup for lunch. All my siblings of course didn't want to eat it, so I tried to think of a way to get them more enthused about it. My solution: Dye it green!

The end result was that half of them loved the colour change and ate it happily, while the other half only became more adamant in saying they didn't want it. So I guess the experiment was a success?

I was watching "Tombs of the Cybermen" today with Lathspell, who had previously never seen it before. He's enjoying it so far, which makes me happy. Oh, and I practiced dance for about forty minutes today, and would have worked longer, but my toe is really hurting me again, so I decided it'd be most prudent to go ice it instead. I hope I can compete in top form at the competition in a few weeks' time. My left ankle is also being a bit dodgy.

Nothing else to report, really. Life's just moving along at a nice pace, and I'm starting to study the DMV manual, and perhaps am thinking seriously about getting my driver's license at last, oh no! Yeah, I'm nineteen and don't drive . . . I happen to like the bus system in Hawaii, but now that I'm back home, where things are a lot more spaced out, I really do need to start transporting myself places under my own power. I just don't like the idea very much. Drivers are crazy here. The only other bit of daily life that could possibly pass as news right now is that I got distracted while adding sugar to my tea at breakfast this morning and as a result ended up with three heaping spoonfuls of it, haha! It tasted like tea-flavored candy . . . I was very energetic the rest of the day, and put that energy to good use by cleaning up the kitchen, the front hall, the living room, and most of the dining room. I have to learn to not talk about books while preparing breakfast; it never ends well!

Here, There Be Dragons

Here, There Be Dragons

Please read this. 

Please do. It's utterly inane, poorly written, and sheer illogical lunacy, but read it anyway. I laughed until I cried. I mean, a story about a young Tolkien and Lewis going on an adventure in the realms of fiction with the help of an atlas called Imaginarium Geographica, where such inexplicable happenings like Charles Darnay being Gawain's Green Knight happen . . . just soak the craziness in and have yourself a bewildering but hilarious good hour or so, bookworms. Wow.

It's available as a free pdf. at the above linked location until November 9, apparently, so read it while you can!

3 Cheers for Randomness and Reading!

I finally woke up before nine in the morning today. Isn't that wonderful? And the day just got better from there. A little bit of everything: family, cleaning, playing, books, silliness, writing, rats, film, the great outdoors . . .

My writer's block is finally clearing. I am writing again! So look for a new installment of 'The Sons of Cwendor' to be posted here sometime this weekend! The issue that's been bugging me is getting ironed out, so it's moving fairly smoothly now. Not the swift, dreamlike smoothly that I like best, but a steady sort that does what I want, instead of doing things of its own that I have to catch up to later. The writing kept me locked in my room for two hours after I woke up, so some people (namely, my brother oldest brother) refused to believe I wasn't asleep all that time. But I was awake, and now it's in print, which makes it true, right? 

After a late breakfast of toast--it's still strange to me how much I am craving toast after being in Hawaii, as I never really craved it before--and sliced apple which I ended up feeding most of to my cute little toddling siblings (who have an uncanny sixth sense when it comes to sensing that I have food to share), I determined to take all the sibs outside to a square of grass behind our house. Living in suburbia limits one's contact with trees and green things outdoors, but fortunately we live in a pretty quiet neighborhood, and the grass behind our house, though not extremely large, is large enough for a few tall trees and gentle hills, which we roll down. Yep, I still roll down grassy hills.

So we trooped out there and began a game of Peter Pan, as my youngest brother is currently obsessed with Pan. I was Captain Hook, since I had the long hair and was wearing a huge coat, and my second brother kindly found me a curled leaf to use as a hook. There were a few difficulties due to Elhendur preferring to use is Pan powers to fly instead of save Wendy, but fortunately (for my Sister No.2, I guess, not for me) he decided at the last moment to swoop in and save her from walking the plank (ie. jumping off the stone bench at one end of the grass), and then Brother No. 2 showed up as the crocodile and I was soundly trounced. In the excitement, everyone forgot about poor Tiger-Lily sitting on a hilltop as the fictional water came in, and I suppose she drowned, so my Hook had at least a little triumph. Sister No. 1 was a little put out, though.

Anyway, eventually Brother No. 1 and I tired of being restricted to only Peter Pan's universe, so we suddenly whirled around, yelled out that we were Ols from 'Deltora Quest', and swiftly dispatched Wendy, Tiger-Lily, and the Ticking Crocodile. Little Elhendur kept his wits about him, however, and decided that if we had entered the realm of Deltora, he was Lief and keeper of the Nectar of Life, with which he swiftly restored our fallen foes. These, upon springing up from the grass, bellowed that they were Jasmine, Barda, and, um, Wendy again, and charged us, taking us by surprise and felling us. But Elhendur was impartial, and so revived Brother No. 1 and I both, and I decided I had come back as Bigwig from 'Watership Down', and Brother No. 1 was Speedwell. This worked out fine, and I had an amusing time hopping on the grass, until Barda killed me for no reason whatsoever. Whereupon I came back as Feanor and after a brief stick-duel defeated Barda/Brother No. 2. 

And so on. The game became what my brothers later called 'A Literary Mario Bros. Smash Bros.', with each person strategically changing upon death into a character more likely to defeat the other characters, and Elhendur, who created an ingenious cup from bark with a twig for a straw, went about reviving fallen characters who would then regenerate. Brilliant fun and utterly mad. During the course of the game I transformed into Madame Defarge, Robin Hood, Eilonwy, Anne of Green Gables, Frodo, Nathaniel, Bartimaeus, Sherlock Holmes, Watson, Marley's Ghost, Ged, Fflewddur Flam, Radagast the Brown, Farmer Giles of Ham, Farmer Maggot, Amalthea, Achilles, and Cluny the Scourge, among others I have now forgotten. It was great fun impersonating these characters, almost as fun as watching my siblings impersonating theirs.

The best part probably--for me, anyway--was when we ended up engaging in an Encyclopedia Brown vs. Sherlock Holmes fistfight. As Brother No. 1 said happily: 'Now this is something that I've always wanted to see!' Sorry, Brown fans, Holmes won.

When we had all tired ourselves out, we assigned each person a character of the Fellowship of the Ring (yours truly was Aragorn, of course . . .), linked hands according to the order of march in Moria, and trooped off back home while singing 'The Fellowship' theme from the film. There was a bit of trouble when I addressed my mother at our door as 'O Lady Galadriel, we seek refuge in Lothlorien,' because she thought at first I said 'Old Lady Galadriel', but apart from that the whole thing went remarkably well for being so random and mad.

Later in the afternoon I was left at home with the youngest three kids and Brother No. 2, so I put on 'Ratatouille' and we watched that together for the first time in a long time. Elhendur fell asleep, but he had been getting cranky, so just as well. I then led the other kids in a cleaning effort and thereby cleaned the kitchen and dining room, which was fun when all the little ones were pitching in. Now all I have to do is muster what vestiges of my energy are left and go practice my dance, and my day will be complete. Oh, and I'll probably stay up a little late writing. Then it will all have come full circle.

How good it is to be alive, book-crazy, and the eldest of seven children!

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Half-awake Nonsense

I should not be awake yet. Not judging by the amount of sleep I snatched last night. But now that I am awake, I dare not go to sleep again, for fear of missing when I need to take my medicine. Bah.

I fill the dull intervals with blogging. And, hopefully, writing on more creative topics as well. My two Faerytales are still coming along, and I really do want to get my novel more organized and further along this summer. I had wanted to do some art too, but I do not know now if I shall . . . I find there are so many things I want to do, I scarcely know where to begin! I have promised my youngest brother a batch of cookies, so I'll have to do that sometime. I found a recipe for white chocolate macadamia nut pineapple cookies online, that sounds interesting and tasty, doesn't it?

Right now I am lying curled up on my top bunk of the bed I share with two of my sisters, and I have a pillow under my feet for no real reason that I can think of. It is strange, after sleeping on an air mattress at my grandmother's apartment all semester, to sleep so close to the ceiling. Some childish part of me is absurdly pleased with the fact and enjoys stretching up a hand to touch the ceiling just because it can; the more mature, grown-up part curses inwardly every time I wake up in the morning, forget the ceiling is right there, and crack my head against it. I could extend this into a philosophical ramble, but I am too sleepy to seriously contemplate it long enough, so I just leave the issue to your very capable pondering. I only wish to add that it certainly illustrates the fact that there are two very different ways to look at everything.

As to my illness, as some of you already know, it now looks as though surgery will not be needed, but that extensive antibiotic treatment will continue for some time. Still, most of the swelling and essentially all of the pain is gone now, which is an immense relief. Thank you, Lord. It looks like the Irish Dance National Championships are on the table again, although considering that due to exams and ill health I have not dance in about three weeks, I am not as optimistic about my chances of placing as I could be. However, I shall devote myself to working hard all summer until competition, and will just be grateful for the health that allows me to dance at all.

I have two hats and a set of fairy wings hanging from my bedpost, as well as a large collection of medals. The hats fit me; the wings do not. I bought the wings for my sister back in the days when she wanted to be a fairy princess. Now, I believe, she wants to be a teacher. She's eight years old and starting to grow up.

On a completely unrelated note, I believe the ending of Devdas is among the best endings of any film ever. 

On another completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of trying to cook some soup today, if my back will be able to handle me standing and walking to and fro in the kitchen for a couple hours.

. . . Sorry, I'm just getting randomer and randomer.

See, this is why I shouldn't post as soon as I wake up in the morning. My head is still too full of dreams for coherence. I'll try to post something sensical later to make up for this, okay?

Ah, the Subtleties of Modern Art

So I was climbing up to the third floor of one of my school's libraries, to retrieve the "Pan's Labyrinth" DVD that I put on hold this morning (yes, I do actually have it in my possession now), and I was going casually because I enjoy walking up and down stairs without my ginormous backpack dragging me down.

I noticed that there are pieces of art set at intervals along the way: paintings on walls, and statues on the landings. Even a replica of the Rosetta Stone is set in the wall at one point (and  speaking as one who has seen the real thing I have to say it is nowhere near as beautiful as the original). You know what I mean: the sort of modernist sculptures of metal and stone twisted into weird shapes that make one long for the marbles of Ancient Greece; the fuzzy, colorful paintings that can be made out when squinting and standing on one's head. They give a general air of grandeur and 'class', but on scrutiny I generally find them to be lacking any feel of what I deem as art.

Anyway, I was scrutinizing them anyway, because it was pleasant to be climbing stairs without needing to go to class, and I hoped to find at least one piece of art to really enjoy, and upon the second floor landing there was a sculpture which really caught my attention. It was, to all appearances, a vaguely rounded lump of stone, perhaps knee-high and between one and two feet in width, set upon a pedestal, and colored a greyish, reddish-brown.

What is this? I wondered. And so, since I had time to spare, I walked over and stooped to read the plaque set at the pedestal's foot. And there I read the sculpture's name:

The Rock. 

. . . It is comforting, is it not, to know that the modernist art movement is coming full circle? They now use enormous lumps of stone to make models of rocks. And then display them as wonders.

Speaking as one who has seen the real thing, I have to say that this sculpture is nowhere near as beautiful as the original.

In the Pit of Despair

You know how in "The Princess Bride" Count Rugen tells Westley (in that silky, charmingly evil voice of his) "I've just sucked one year of your life away"? That's what my midterms are telling me right now. 

Ooh, the pain.

Seriously, though, I am so swamped this week. Whose brilliant idea was it to have my History midterm, my Russian midterm, my Economics midterm, an English essay, a mandatory Mythology lecture, AND Russian homework all due within seven days of each other? The stress is getting to me. It feels like dying slowly. 

Furthermore, the more stressed I am, the more I want to shy away from the overwhelmingness of it all and take refuge in a good book (The Once and Future King), film (Beauty and the Beast), or other sundry activity (cleaning my room, exercising, writing, drawing, sleeping, and . . . erm, blogging), which in turn leads to not enough studying being done, which in turn leads to more stress, which in turn shunts me further down the path of denial.

It is a cruel, vicious cycle, and it is obvious what I need to do to stop it, but it is quite hard. It is much, much easier, I find, to shrink from a fear than it is to face it. A sentiment which I have recognized as long as I can remember from the books I read, of course, but one which has quite a personal meaning now.

You know, imagination might be my saving grace here, unlikely though that may sound. When I was little and I would catch fever or the flu, I would lie curled up miserably in my bed and imagine that my antibodies were an army of white-clad knights, and the germs were horrific creatures and black-helmed warriors who were invading, and the two armies were fighting this cataclysmic battle over my health. 

Bizarre? Well, yes, but it did help take my mind off of how wretched I was feeling.

A similar scenario might be necessary to get me through this week. This loooong list of problems isn't my economics study sheet at all, no sir! It is a set of riddles set to me by the Sphinx which guards the ancient gateway that I must pass, and therefore I must solve them all by the time four nights have passed, or else I am worsted! And nighttime mythology lecture? No, not at all! It is a secret meeting of the rebel group where we must listen carefully to our leader's presentation in order to follow his instructions properly and thereby win the war! Who cares losing two hours of sleep for that, right?

. . . I'll work on it. And to conclude with my beautiful "Princess Bride" analogy, it is comforting to know that though the week will be hard, I will at least come out of it only "mostly dead".

Help, I'm Stuck!!

Yet another video, which is code for Jhaniel-is-being-too-lazy-to-actually-write-anything.

Well actually, that's only half true. I'm writing a lot at the moment. Just not on the blog. More in the creative writing field. But that will go on the blog, eventually. So it all balances out in the end.

Anyway, what's wrong with videos, right? 

So here's one of my favorite comedy pieces ever. Have you ever heard of Knox's Korner? It's very simplistic claymation, by a guy with a very sarcastic, stupid, and morbid/violent sense of humor. Which might not sound awesome but somehow it is. I first found this video in 2004, and it's been something I keep coming back to ever since . . . I still sing the pen song when I'm walking down the street. In fact, I frequently quote a lot of this particular video . . . He's got some other good vids too--pretty much all of them involving violent clayman deaths. But he also gave me my second favorite joke in the world in one of his videos. These videos only work, I think, if you like random things and things that just don't make sense.

Either you will love this, or you will hate it, or you will not understand it. Heh heh. Enjoy if you can.

Battery Bill's!

Hawaii's best television commercial. Seriously.

One of My Dreams Come True

I've often thought about how brilliant it would be if I could get some friends together and we could all do a spontaneous musical . . . Sadly, my friends don't think much of the idea. But these people have done it, so now I can enjoy the idea anyways!

Even better, I think I've been to this mall . . . *sigh* Why wasn't I there when this happened? I woulda joined in!

(ImprovEverywhere, btw, in case you don't know the group, they're pretty funny . . .)

One Can Never Have Too Much Pachelbel . . .

Do you guys remember the Pachelbel Rant video? Laura, I believe you sent it to everyone . . . well anyways, I was looking it up today, and came across this. And it's impressive (to me anyway) musically, but it's also pretty hilarious.

My New Motto

"Reason is always a kind of brute force; those who appeal to the head rather than the heart, however pallid and polite, are necessarily men of violence. We speak of 'touching' a man's heart, but we can do nothing to his head but hit it." - "Charles II" Twelve Types

Yes, I am quoting G.K. Chesterton again. But with a quote like that . . . how could I resist? If y'all are interested in learning more about this guy, here's the link.

And wowee, that's a lot of fast comments on my 'short' story, heh heh. Many thanks! I will post the next part ASAP, if you're lucky it'll be tomorrow, but more likely next week. This week is midterms for me, and I am flat out exhausted. *Yawn*

The Amazing Chinese Wizard

Okay, here's a quote I just found in my 'Three Ways of Thought in Ancient China' book. It's one of my World history texts. It's describing a wizard. I was impressed with his skills until I reached the end of the list: ". . . [he] could go into water and fire, pierce metals and stone, turn mountains upside down, make rivers flow backwards, move fortifications and towns, ride on the air without falling, collide with solids without injury."

COLLIDE WITH SOLIDS WITHOUT INJURY.

I started giggling. Can you imagine how awesome THAT magic show would be?

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I will . . . RUN INTO THIS WALL!

"WHAM!"

Tada! I am unharmed . . . Now I will drop this rock on my head!

"WHACK!"

Tada! I'm still okay!"

(Pic from Pixar's new short film 'Presto'. I think the two magicians must be related.)

Coolest T-Shirt Anywhere

"Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense.
Refrigerator."

(Spotted on a T-shirt somebody was sporting around campus. If that doesn't send the poet in you into a fit of hysterical giggling, I don't know what will. Um, you do know the rules of haiku-writing, right?)

Hobbits . . . On the Science Channel?

I don't know if any of you remember, but I remember seeing an article in the newspaper a few years ago talking about how some scientists had discovered skeletons on an island of a very small people--about 3 ft tall--and were excited because they believed it to be a never-before-discovered type of primitive human. I only remember this because the paper also said that the discoverers had nicknamed the skeleton a 'hobbit', which I thought was fantastic.

I hadn't heard anything about it since. But last night on a science channel I discovered an hour-long documentary. The title? 'The Human Hobbit'.

I spent the hour watching gleefully. I got immense satisfaction out of seeing all these scientists, professors, learned men from all over the world, and the dignified narrator seriously discussing 'hobbits'.

J.R.R. Tolkien had an ambition he thought impossible to realize: To create a mythology that would in turn inspire art, music, and other writings. Well, he's done it, and how! And not only that, but now he's snuck into the sciences too! Score one for epic fantasy!

I went to bed very cheerfully last night . . . .

(And I also finished 'Inkdeath', but I won't say anything yet per Laura's wish.)

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Before You Go . . .

In honor of Laura's upcoming plane flights around the nation on her quest for the perfect college, here's a video that every person about to go on a plane ought to see. I discovered it two days before my trip to Hawaii. Oddly, it didn't help my plane-phobia much . . .