Blog Archives

Thankful

8/29/2014

There’s a challenge going around online right now in which you must, for five days, write down three things every day that you are thankful for. Nobody asked me to do this challenge, but since I’m short on blog ideas this week, I decided to go for it.

Monday:

I’m thankful for my family.
I’m thankful that my sister has an answering machine, so she’ll know that I called and am expecting a call back.
I’m thankful that my nephews are so cute, because otherwise, I might not be speaking to their mother, who apparently can’t even return a phone call.

Tuesday:

I am thankful for circus peanuts, gummy worms, and other sugary treats that rot my teeth but are good for the soul.
I am thankful for pasta, cheese, and God’s ultimate food creation, pasta and cheese.
I’m thankful the bathroom scale battery is dead.

Wednesday:

I’m thankful for coffee.
I’m thankful that my coworkers recognize and respect my need for coffee, and mostly don’t approach me until I’m on my third cup.
I’m thankful that the new kid Todd can run faster than me, because if I’d caught that no-good “let me ask you about the detailed objectives of the project we’re supposed to work on together while you’re pouring yourself your first cup of coffee” troll, I’d probably be in trouble with both HR and the law right now.

Thursday

I’m thankful for a mind that works a little differently from the average bear’s, and finds humor in unexpected places.
I’m thankful that the priest delivering this much-too-serious funeral sermon can’t tell where the muffled chuckling is coming from.
Seriously, I don’t care if the deceased is British, you can’t mention his intolerance of clatterfarts without expecting at least a snicker.

Friday

At this point, I’d had a pretty stressful week, what with not speaking to my sister, eating so many circus peanuts that I’d started hallucinating clowns, being spoken to before I’d had my coffee, getting kicked out of a funeral . . . I was running low on things to be thankful for. Luckily, I was able to look around my office and remind myself of all the blessings I had.

I am thankful for Scotch tape, which is handy when I want to tape my nose up to my forehead.
I’m thankful for freshly sharpened No. 2 pencils, which stick in the tiles of the ceiling when thrown at just the right trajectory.
I’m thankful for paper clips, which help me express my inner emotions through highly sophisticated paper clip art.

What did I learn this week? Mostly that I’m a bit of an ingrate. It was insightful and depressing. I highly recommend it. Perhaps you, too, could take this challenge, and discover either that your life is full of wonder, or that you’re a thankless wretch just like me.

From my surrealist paper clip period. I call it "Spider."

Just a Normal Conversation

8/22/2014

Recently, a friend of mine pointed out that often, the contributions I make to a conversation may not be what a ‘normal’ person might chime in with. (Her exact words were “Jeez, you really have no filter, do you?”) I like to blame this little personality quirk on my father, who has been known, over dinner, to discuss weird udder fungi, how to properly butcher a pig, the process for artificially inseminating a cow, and the specific acidity levels found in various types of animal feces. Sometimes all in one night. I grew up in a household in which I honestly believed my insights on serial killers and interesting cemeteries were a welcome relief to cow-bag fungus.

I asked my friend to help me lay out how a ‘normal’ person would react to the following topics, and added my own reactions.
---
The topic: A woman is reminiscing about snorkeling as a child in the pond near her home, recalling how much fun it was to observe turtles and frogs in their natural environment.

Normal Person: What a lovely childhood memory!
Me: You do know that a snapping turtle can take off a finger or toe in one snap, right?
---
The topic: A new mall opens in town.

Normal Person: Hooray! We finally have a Christmas Tree Shop nearby!
Me: This will be the perfect place to hole up when the zombie apocalypse happens!
---
The topic: A friend is dating a new guy. She says he has a good job, is handsome, has a great sense of humor, and is really close to his parents and siblings.

Normal Person: How nice that family is so important to him!
Me: You know who else really valued his family? Charles Manson.
---
The topic: Jason mentions that at work, people sometimes don’t have their driver’s license on them when he cards them for cigarettes.

Normal Person: Maybe they left it at home or in their glove compartment.
Me: Who leaves their house without their driver’s license? I even bring mine when I’m out back weeding the garden. That way, if a bear attacks me, the police can easily identify my body.
---
The topic: The ALS Ice Bucket challenge has recently made a blip on the radar of pop culture. This involves filming oneself while a bucket of icy water is dumped over one’s head, and then donating money.

Normal Person: Sounds like fun! Sign me up!
Me: Are there eels in the bucket?
Normal Person: No.
Me: Jellyfish?
Normal Person: No. Just ice water.
Me: Is the water really sulfuric acid?
Normal Person: No!
Me: Sounds lame. Count me out.
---
Maybe my mind doesn’t work like the average conversationalist’s. But, as you might imagine, there’s nothing quite as memorable as a dinner party with me and my dad.

Normal Person: That's a long hallway. Me: Come play with us, Danny . . . for ever, and ever . . .

The Best Actors Today

8/15/2014

There are some actors who are fun to watch (Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson) and some who are fun to look at (Vin Diesel). But who are the best actors, those who are finest at their craft, today? And by today, I mean, who is striking my fancy today, August 15, 2014? I can’t promise this list will be the same tomorrow. After all, Expendables 3 just came out.

Here are my top five:

5. Antonio Banderas

Psych! I’ve already seen Expendables 3! And, in a sentence I never thought I’d write, Antonio Banderas and Wesley Snipes are the best things about the movie. Watching Banderas reminded me of something important: this guy voiced my very favorite cartoon cat ever. Yes, that’s right: at this very moment, I love Antonio Banderas not as an actor, but as Puss in Boots. (photo courtesy of www.dreamworks.wikia.com)

4. Joaquin Phoenix

Earlier in the week, we got a free Redbox code, and the only movie that looked vaguely interesting was Her. This made me remember that Joaquin Phoenix, who stars in the film, is great at immersing himself in a role. Sure, he’s nuttier than Dahmer at dinnertime, but this guy can act. He was a wonderful bad guy as Commodus in Gladiator and entertaining as goofy Uncle Merrill in Signs. Plus, it’s fun to say his name: Wauh-keen! (photo courtesy of www.imdb.com)

3. Gary Oldman

Recently, a friend and I were discussing endless Hollywood reboots, which led to a discussion of old Universal monsters, which segued to a reflection on Gary Oldman in the title role of Dracula (1992). My friend refused to admit that Oldman was the most electrifying and dynamic vampire he’d ever seen. We are no longer speaking, because my friend is wrong.

Oldman is simply amazing. From his turns as Lee Harvey Oswald in JFK to Carnegie in The Book of Eli, his performances are what inspire ordinary shleps to think about becoming actors. I don’t know why anyone else in the world even bothers trying. They’ll never be as good as this guy. Also, his Dracula was hot. (photo courtesy of www.rabitaruta.com)

2. Benedict Cumberbatch

When I’m ironing my clothes for the week, I like to let Netflix streaming do its thing. Netflix suggested I might like the BBC’s Sherlock, and they were right. Benedict Cumberbatch is brilliant in the title role. Perhaps I should’ve noticed him more in Atonement, except that I hated that book and refused to watch the movie. I guess he was in The Other Boleyn Girl, too, but Scarlet Johansson’s perpetually heaving bosoms must have distracted me. I did love him as (outdated spoiler alert!) Khan in Star Trek: Into Darkness. He’s smart, funny, and fascinating. Thanks for creepily predicting that I’d love him, Netflix. (photo courtesy of www.imdb.com)

1. Michael C. Hall

Yes, I’m going to say it: as of today, August 15, 2014, Michael C. Hall is the best actor in the world, hands down. I work with a guy who looks a little bit like him, which is why I’m thinking about him today. Hall was amazeballs as David Fisher in Six Feet Under. I thought that nobody could ever top that performance. Then, when Hall was cast in the title role of Dexter, I thought those casting agents are nuts. Nobody will ever accept David Fisher as a calculating serial killer with a skewed sense of justice. Well, color me crazy, because I was totally wrong. I’d forgotten, apparently, that Hall is the best actor in the world. Within two minutes of watching the first episode of Dexter I’d forgotten that David Fisher ever existed, and was completely enamored with Dexter Morgan.

Fun fact: For the longest time, my sister refused to believe that Hall wasn’t gay, simply because of how incredibly realistic his portrayal of David Fisher was. Now she’s not entirely convinced that Hall isn’t a serial killer. THAT’s how good he is. (photo courtesy of www.tvguide.com)

There you have it: my favorite actors today. Tomorrow, I plan to watch old reruns of the Incredible Hulk while cleaning the house, so if you hear me gushing about Lou Ferrigno’s acting range . . . well, you’ll understand.

Life Lessons

8/8/2014

Yup, that's my sister with John Taylor.

Life lessons can be brutal, but they shape who we are today. For example, I would not be the woman I am today had my sister and I not met Duran Duran in 2007. What’s the life lesson? There is none—I just like to remind people at random times that my sister and I have, in fact, met Duran Duran.

Here are some of the important lessons I’ve learned over the years:

I'm the first one in the second row. I never did find out who ate the crayons.

In kindergarten, I learned that it’s never a good idea to make friends with the kid who eats the crayons. This was something I learned the hard way. Every day, I’d have my posse of pals that I’d kibitz with at nap time, and it quickly became evident that one of them had an appetite for cornflower blue. This was incredibly frustrating when I wanted to create my art and had nothing with which to color in the sky. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be friends with someone just because they’re different. I’m saying you can’t let people take advantage of you.

During my elementary school years, I learned that I do not hold my pencil the same way everyone else does. Did it bother me? Nah. Even though I was often mocked for holding my pencil wrong, it just felt more comfortable doing it my way. And that was okay. It’s not always a bad thing to be the weird kid. Just don’t eat other people’s crayons.

Sixth through eighth grades brought about new life lessons learned the hard way. The predominant theme through these years was that puberty is just awful. Also, I experienced my first loss when my Grandma Mitzi passed away when I was 11. My woes, like my boobs, were blossoming. That's when I found out that acne is not the worst thing that can happen to you. (Having acne and chin hairs is much, much worse. But still not as bad as losing someone you love.)

High school brought new milestones, like learning over (and over) that the guy you like won’t always like you, and that’s okay. Maybe he’s not as bright as you are. Maybe he treats women like garbage. Maybe he’s gay, and is meant to be your BFF, not your boyfriend. The universe does not have to give you everything you want, and won’t. Get over it and move on. Because guess what? There’s someone out there with an unrequited crush on you, too. You’ll hurt people without meaning to. It’s okay. Forgive yourself.

College was where I really learned that I had talent. No, I’m not talking about my award-winning performance in the 1993 Alpha Chi Beer Pong and Fish Filleting Tournament, though that was pretty memorable. I’m talking about my writing career. I won a few awards, got some praise from my professors, and started learning how to hone my craft. The perfect pencil-holders of the world could kiss my essay. I was good at this writing thing.

But not great. I discovered that perfecting your craft is a lifelong learning process. I left college with a degree and the realization that I had no idea what I was doing, but if I wanted to write professionally, I should get better at it.

So I started writing more. Hard lesson #2871: rejection happens to everyone. It certainly doesn’t feel good, but if you get one of those rare gems that will offer critique and encouragement with their rejection, it’s a wonderful thing. You try again, and eventually, someone will pay you for your writing. And that, my friends, feels awesome.

I also found out that life can be pretty okay, even for those of us who hold our pencils the wrong way. I’ve learned that and that you shouldn’t believe everything you read on Facebook, because nobody is really honest about their worst days online. Heck, just look at this guy’s profile picture. I went to kindergarten with him. Nobody’s teeth are naturally that pretty a shade of blue. People lie about how great their lives are all the time. Regardless, their success is NOT your failure.

Who am I kidding? I don't regret that!

Here’s my point: you’re never going to stop learning some ugly truths about life. But you can’t waste time worrying about it. Everybody has regrets—for instance, I’ve posed for some weird pictures with stuffed cows that I’m not particularly proud of—but you’re not going to please everyone. As long as you can look your family and yourself in the eye, then heck, you’re doing just fine.

What Might Have Been

8/1/2014

As I’ve mentioned in the past, my mother’s mother was Greek. That heritage is still strong within our family, mostly manifested in our love for baklava. I do wonder, though, what it would’ve been like to live in ancient Greece as a female writer who bores easily and loves a good chunk of baklava. I’d like to think it would’ve gone something like this:

Dear Diary,

I’ve decided to start writing down my daily thoughts. All I could find to write on is an old birch log, so I’m going to call you a ‘blog.’ Of course, if any of the pompous old men from the agora find out I’m writing, they’ll probably lock me up and make me drink hemlock or something.

Dad yelled at me this morning. “No daughter of mine is going out dressed like that!” he said. He's SO embarrassing. All the other oracles are wearing their togas at least two inches above the ankle, but nooo, my father’s a giant prude and says I can’t go out of the house looking like a pornai. Yeah, like anyone’s going to mistake the 40 pounds of drapery I’m wearing for a cute, low-cut tunic. And if he’s so worried about what people are wearing, maybe he should talk to his old buddy Socrates about maybe putting on underwear if he’s gonna let his toga hang open while he’s talking to the masses.

Mom asked me today if I’ve given any thought to what I might like to do with my life. She mentioned several career options. I could be a housewife, or a midwife, or a slave. I’m sure she means well, but all of that sounds pretty boring to me. Why can’t I be something more exciting, like a philosopher or poet? Maybe I want to hold court at the Acropolis and have all the young scholars hang on my every word! (However, if this requires letting my netherparts hang in the wind like Socrates, maybe not. Seriously, cover up, you dirty old flasher!)

Dad would like me to marry a soldier and settle down. Mom mentioned that Achilles is still single, but he’s such a dud. Always whining about his sore heel and how he can’t stand Agamemnon. Get over it, already. Who do you think you are, some sort of demigod or something?

The guy who I can’t get enough of is that dreamy Odysseus. I know that cheap tart Penelope has been trying to catch his eye, always bringing him freshly baked moussaka and horta vrasta. Yuck. Boiled leafy greens leave me clammy. If it doesn't have honey and phyllo dough in it, count me out. Anyway, Penny has also been knitting Ody a shroud, but honestly, it’s taking her forever to finish the darn thing. He can’t possibly be interested in her. I can assemble, like, forty pairs of sandals in an hour. Surely that’s worth more, dowry-wise, than one stupid unfinished shroud!

I feel bad for my friend Homer, who really has the hots for Penelope. Sometimes Homer and I get together at the Long Wall and make up stories about Ody and Penny. Mostly we come up with tales in which they’re separated by war for, like, twenty years. Homer says our stories are so good that he’s going to write them down someday. I doubt it. Homer’s nice and all, but he’s kind of an underachiever, and I’m sure he’s destined for obscurity. Centuries from now, nobody will remember his name.

It’s getting late. I guess I should head over to the panhellenic sanctuary with the other oracles and entertain the rubes with some prophecies. Sure, Paris, that girl Helen of Troy will TOTALLY love you someday. NOT. The only way she’d ever notice you exist is if you, I don't know, maybe kidnap her and start a war. Good luck with that!

Until tomorrow, diary. I’m off to pray to Athena for better things, like voting rights for women and no taxation on grape leaves.

Anastasia Longonopolus

Sounds fun and all, but I suspect I’m better off right here.

******

I’ll be appearing on The Connecticut Authors Trail at the Saxton B. Little Library in Columbia, CT on Tuesday, August 5 at 6:45 PM. Come be entertained with tales of how I became a writer, and I’ll even read a little from Secret Things and offer a sneak peek of my upcoming novel, Ordinary Boy! Yowza!

Probably one of my ancestors.

Thankful

Just a Normal Conversation

The Best Actors Today

Life Lessons

What Might Have Been

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