Nostalgia about nostalgia about nostalgia.

I was fiddling around on my computer and “We Didn’t Start the Fire” comes on my mp3 player and I’m instantly thirteen. Smell is supposed to be most closely linked to memory but when I hear certain songs I may as well jump in a time machine, so much do some songs put me right back in the frame of mind I was in when said song was ubiquitous.

It’s fitting that the song that set me off this time was Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire”, a list song he wrote about the key world events occurring in his lifetime. I was born nearly thirty years after Mr Joel (him = May 09, 1949 me = June 09 1978) but his song about his childhood defines my childhood. I ‘came of age’ when his song of coming of age was popular. I know every word of the song even though the vast majority of the events happened before I was born.

I’ve always prided myself on differing from my peers by not caring about age difference but recently it has occurred to me just how important certain events can be to people. One day I will meet a person who wasn’t born when 9/11 happened and I will be baffled; just as people who were alive when JFK was assassinated feel when they talk to people my age. When that happens I’ll feel as I do now about JFK people: that it’s such a defining moment I can’t believe I don’t have a memory of it. It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t a sentient being then–I should remember something like that. I’ll feel that way about future pro-9/11 kids. Nostalgia is like a supremely bizarre LSD trip.

This whole thing has been exacerbated by a project I was working on for one of my bosses where I needed to find sites with lists of things people in their sixties had seen invented as well as things people in their 20s had never lived without. I discovered The People History which lists useful info for each year in U.S. history, as well as Wikipedia’s Years in Literature which has lists of popular books for any given year. They also have music. It’s fascinating, addictive stuff. And normally I believe in connection across generational differences. but after poking around on some of these sites I can see how some people would only want to be with those they could identify with chronologically. In twenty years I don’t know if I could be interested (emotionally/intimately) in a person who had no concept of 9/11, even though I’m no patriot. The whole project has made me think, which I appreciate.

This child has just been shopping with her mum and was not impressed by the experience.

If I had the wherewithal (and funds) to open a shop I’d call it Plain Jane’s. A place for women who shop like men. ‘We know what we want and we don’t want to sell a kidney to get it.’

Everything would be arranged by colour in a horseshoe layout. There’d be three versions of any item (at most) and you’d be in and out in a matter of minutes.

Recently, my husband braved going shopping with me for a green top. That’s all I wanted–a top of the solid green variety. We went to several places and it was mission impossible. Everything had beads, fringe, sequins, etc. And were quite a bit more expensive in comparison to the male clothing.

That’s because males don’t care nearly as much about apparel as women do so retailers can’t charge as much. Lucky twats.

However, with the advent of the ‘meterosexual’ and effing Jersey Shore, it’s becoming desirable for men to look great whether it be through clothing or skin and hair care products. They don’t even get called gay for it anymore. Though there’s a reason for that. *

I mean, look at this shit:

What. The Fuck, people.

The absolute best part of that advert is when they go to a shot of the guy applying the nail varnish. No one can do that without looking like a giant girl. I was waiting for  his tongue to poke out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. They cut back to a close up of his hands pretty damn quick, I suppose to show he was indeed putting on polish himself. Looking like a big girl.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love me some goth dudes in fishnet tops and eyeliner with backcombed hair. (Noel Fielding, yes, hello.) What gets me is the, ‘Nah, bro, you don’t have to be sensitive or intelligent or thoughtful to cultivate your appearance; you can totally be a steroid-moron and wear cosmetics. RAWR!’ message. Don’t worry. We don’t think you like dudes, because that would be totally gross. We know you had to take time out of your busy banging-all-the-vapid-chicks-wearing-bandages-for-a-dress schedule to shoot this commercial.

I can’t roll my eyes far enough into my head.

*I would like to thank Paddy K for his hilarious post about this very thing, otherwise I wouldn’t have known about AlphaNail and my life would have been just a bit emptier.

RAWR

Update: From Cracked 5 Men’s Products That are Clearly Women’s Products . Alpha Nail makes an appearance. Because, of course.

English food is much (undeservedly) maligned, but even the harshest food critic admits that the English do a brilliant job of breakfast. We don’t really have places that do breakfast twenty-four hours a day, though. Which is a shame.

American Southerners know something about breakfast, as well, though theirs is more about calories, butter and syrup than beans, mushrooms and tomatoes. However, in the Southern part of the States there are three eating establishments that serve breakfast all day: The Waffle House, Cracker Barrel and the International House of Pancakes (IHOP). (Waffle House is open 24/7, so, technically, they serve breakfast all day and all night.)

The atmosphere and clientele between the three vary drastically, however.

Of the three, Cracker Barrel has the most traditionally Southern food. Typically, Country & Western music plays in the background. In my experience, the waitresses tend to ‘honey’ and ‘sugar’ you in a way they don’t at IHOP, but could do at Waffle House. It’s the kind of place you feel comfortable lingering. There’s also a shop attached where you can purchase a variety of ‘home-spun’ gifts. Their ‘biscuits and gravy’ are amazing.

Waffle House has my favourite food, but the atmosphere of a greasy spoon. Their motto is: ‘Where Americans work, where Americans eat.’ I’ve eaten a few times at five different Waffle Houses in different cities in North Carolina and, across the board, the other people dining were rural Southerners from Central Casting. Also, at every place I’ve eaten, there have been regulars, chatting with the staff or starting conversations  with non-regular customers. I have never eaten in a place where diners openly talked to other diners (and it puts me right off). I try to get in and out as quickly as possible, but their waffles are fantastic. They don’t do pancakes. One could loiter there all day, I believe.

IHOP is the most corporate and has the most… rotund customers (again, in my experience). They have a truly impressive list of ways of cooking eggs (yet they don’t poach them, what’s the point of that, then?) and several types of syrup. They specialise in pancakes and waffles loaded with fruit and whipped cream. IHOP’s atmosphere–very bright and antiseptic–doesn’t encourage taking one’s time over coffee and chatting. Their crepes (a pancake rolled up and filled with cheese or fruit) are very nice.

All three places serve good food, and I’d recommend out-of-country visitors to try all of them.

My grandmother passed away in 2005 and her fur coats fell to me, where they’ve hung in my cupboard. We’ve been having a clear out lately and I wanted to do something with them. I figured I’d wind up selling them, but I had no idea what they were worth or which of them was fake. (One of the three isn’t real.)

Today I found out that wildlife rehabilitators use them to comfort unwell and orphaned animals.

From this page:

Fur can provide warmth and comfort to orphaned and injured wild animals. Wildlife rehabilitators will usually cut the fur into an appropriate size for the animal, whether it be a bobcat, fox, raccoon, squirrel, or rabbit, and place it inside the animal’s enclosure. The furry blanket becomes a surrogate mother to orphaned animals, reducing stress and giving comfort.

One rehabilitator related a story about a restless orphaned river otter who chirped constantly. Once she was given a fur blanket, she settled right down. Turning the sleeve of a fur coat inside out, a rehabilitator can also create a warm nest for a burrowing animal such as an opossum. Some animals adopt a piece of fur as a playmate, jumping on it and wrestling with it.

That wrong-side-out sleeve thing sounds so comfortable.

The page above is primarily American, though there is one contact for Canada. I have been unable to find a site for the U.K. If you know of rehabbers in other countries who re-purpose fur coats, please post in the comments.

I read a recent article about how to best use coffee without becoming addicted (or breaking your current addiction) and it reminded me of an article in the New York Times about coffee.

My favourite bit, a note about how coffee is self-regulating, unlike other stimulates cocaine or meth. “Too much cocaine makes you feel invincible; too much coffee makes you think you’re having a nervous breakdown.”

That reminds me of when I heard Gertrude Stein and Co liked n alcoholic beverage that had coffee in. I thought, “I like coffee. I like alcohol. Brilliant!”

So I got some.

Holy crap, my friends. I was drunk. I was in over-drive. I’ve never done cocaine or had a psychotic break but I thought perhaps that’s what it felt like.

I’ve just realised that simply typing about the episode had made me open my eyes as wide as they’d go…

Here are a several E.A. Poe papercraft–a little Autumn fun.

    Poe 1

Poe 2

And the final one is Poe’s gravestone

I’ve been applying for jobs lately and decided to see what HR would see if they put my name and ‘blog’ into Google. I used a service called Scroogle , though, as Google leaves cookies on your computer and will show different results than what a complete stranger would see.

Well… um… There are several hits with my name, but of the first 100 results I’m … none of them.

However, the first few are from an American emo who writes about cutting herself and generally mopes around. Another is one of the top reviewers on Amazon.co.uk and has terrible taste in books. And my absolute favourite is the American writer who writes historical romance with a paranormal twist. And she’s published with a company that takes its name from an Edgar Allan Poe story. Which is something that would happen in a modern story… The writer discovers she’s been writing atrocious fiction in her sleep! Then reading and reviewing awful books on Amazon.uk!

Unable to cope with the idea that she’s been recommending and writing books that should be used as emergency toilet roll, she tops herself.

Then it’s revealed that she’s been driven insane by her guilt about putting off her own writing in order to work for The Man.

There’s another website that’s home to an ongoing fiction piece with a character that has my name. Do I need to say that it’s [checks words not yet used] horrendous? It has illustrations that look like they come from the Sims.

The only saving grace is that I share a name with an editor with a major publishing house.

I had a doctors appointment this morning. I arrived on time and therefore had about an hour of reading time. Last night I packed the bag I’d be taking as I didn’t want to be late because I couldn’t decide which book to take. Every reader I know goes through the ‘Which book(s) should I take to the doctor/on vacation?’ thing. [This post was written prior to acquiring a Kindle a.k.a. The Greatest Invention of Modern Times]

So I read a bit while waiting for my turn and I was the only person with a book in a full waiting room. This never ceases to amaze me. You know you’re going somewhere you’ll have to wait…it just seems logical to take something to occupy your time. If I find myself somewhere without reading material of some sort (the Levenger catalogue, at least) I can only think about how stupid I am for forgetting something to read.

Counting on this, doctors’ offices provide periodicals spanning several decades, but more patients weren’t flipping through those than were. (Not that reading about incoming PM Thatcher’s plans isn’t riveting, you know.)

But what do non-readers think? I’m not suggesting non-readers don’t think–I’m just wondering what’s going on in there without something on which to focus. Maybe they’re pondering the mysteries of the universe. Perhaps they’re thinking the equivalent of a hanging cadence.

I’m not sure if it’s a good sign or bad that I can’t remember the last time I just sat without something to focus on, be it my computer, music or a book … or all three. Perhaps that says more about me than them.

This might be my medication talking, but journey with me now on my stream of consciousness, won’t you? Readers and non-readers are two separate groups, aren’t they? And crossing into the other territory is something I cannot fathom. I simply cannot put myself in the shoes of a non-reader. Probably any more so than they could imagine to be me.

It’s rather like the introvert/extrovert divide, I think.
So much of my life is governed by love of the printed word becoming a non-reader would require overhauling everything. My house would be minimalist in design to a degree of Zen, my bank account would be healthier, that’s for certain, but…what would I think about? What would I write about? What would be the point of getting up in the morning? How would I escape the world or find new ones…or make new friends and enemies without having to remember birthdays or do constant battle…learn about myself and other viewpoints?

Great, now I’m having some sort of existential crisis because I realise I get most of my information about the world and my place in it through books. I am completely dependent on them. Without them I have no place to start. Books complete me.

[Original Post date: 9 August, 2006]

The West Memphis Three have been released, seventeen years after they were convicted of committing a crime they most likely didn’t commit.

That is as it should be (well, not really, they shouldn’t have been sent to prison in the first place, but I digress.)

Contingent on the young men being released was they had to change their pleas from ‘not guilty’ to ‘guilty.’ But they’re using the Alford Plea. According to Anne Bremner, a Seattle attorney and legal analyst, as reported by the Huffington Post, is: ‘”The plea means that you maintain your innocence but you believe there is a substantial likelihood that a jury will find you guilty so you are pleading guilty per State v. Alford.”

Occasionally, in real life, you’ll hear a person jokingly ‘plead the fifth’. I think we’re going to start hearing people in relationships with insecure people using the Alford Plea. Like so:

Insane Person: You’re cheating on me, aren’t you?
Glutton for Punishment: No. I’ve told you–it’s my mother I’ve been texting.
Insane Person: I don’t believe you!
Glutton for Punishment: Here. This is my mother’s name on my phone, as well as her birth certificate. It’s the same person.
Insane Person: YOU TEXTED HER TO SAY YOU LOVE HER.
Glutton for Punishment: Yes. She’s my mother and I love her. It does happen.
Insane Person: YOU’RE LYING. SHE’S NOT REALLY YOUR MOTHER.
Glutton for Punishment: All right. You’ve got me.
Insane Person: … Really?
Glutton for Punishment: No. But I’m entering the Alford Plea. I’m innocent, but you’re going to convict me at any rate. This was I’ll save the next five hours, during which you’ll wear me down until I agree with you simply to get some peace. So… Yes, I’m madly in love with a woman twice my age with whom I happen to share the same eyes and chin.
Insane Person: … So…
Glutton for Punishment: In a court of law, it’s equivalent to entering a plea of guilty. So let’s get on with my punishment so we can get on to your next ridiculous accusation.
Insane Person: … So… I win?
Glutton for Punishment: Yes. You win. I’m cheating on you. Congratulations.

Read the Huffington Post article here .

What do you call a person who fluently speaks two dialects of the same language? Bi-dialectician? Whatever it is, I am. I speak both American and British English like a native.

That said, American spelling looks to be missing something, some phrases (in both dialects) make no sense and some pronunciations sound better to my ear–the beginning ‘e’ of ‘economics’ and ‘evolution’ should be long and the second syllables of ‘research’ and ‘frustrated’ should be stressed, and words beginning with ‘sch’ should be pronounced like ‘sk’, for example. But I do not besmirch the names of those that pronounce those words in other, accepted, ways.

Due to the popularity of American television shows Americanisms have been infiltrating British English for several decades now.

On 13 July there was an article in the magazine on the BBC News site entitled Why Do Some Americanisms Irritate People?

The quote that best sums up my feelings on the matter: “Britain is a very distinct country from the US. Not better, not worse, different. And long live that difference. That means maintaining the integrity of our own gloriously nuanced, subtle and supple version – the original version – of the English language. ”

A follow up piece was posted 19 July. Americanisms: Your 50 Most Noted Examples

I wasn’t surprised by some of the vitriol in that article, because it seems unfair that one language is being devoured by the other, and all of the flow is in one direction.

Many Americans believe that the English speak the language the way it was meant to be spoken, but if an American uses English phraseology, their fellow Americans think them up themselves. Because Americans consider the English to be superior to the Yanks, any American using British English must be trying to give themselves airs.

Whereas, English people over-using American phrases appear–to the Brits–to be trying too hard to be hip. There is no graver insult to an English person than being seen to be trying too hard.

English people using American also come across as being sloppy. Because Americans are a sloppy, blunt people. Yanks aren’t known for nuanced language.

The one group that highly prizes Americanisms are hip hop artists and chavs. Because Americans are seen as excelling rather spectacularly  at violence and intimidation.

The inspiration for this post came from an article on the twelfth of this month, England Riots: What’s the Meaning of the Words Behind  the Chaos? , which was about the American-grown words used before, during and after the riots: ‘po po’, ‘feds’, ’5-0′.

You can tell a lot about a people by the language they use, as well as the language used about them. Choose your words wisely.