but a hero never turns around

So guess who finally learned how to use her scanner.












Merry Christmas.

Amanda

and on the north pole, i'll ice you son

I will admit to having a soft spot for children’s fantasy.

Perhaps it was because I loved the escapism of different magical worlds growing up; perhaps because it was one of the few genres that didn’t talk down to me. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never really changed from that little kid who thought that a world without magic was really boring, and books about babysitting and suburban mystery solving didn’t always cut the mustard. Regardless, Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series has definitely been a modern darling of the genre. It possesses the greatest qualities of the epic fantasy while operating in a wholly realized and realistic world. On top of this, Pullman’s aim is clear: an unabashed atheist, he uses his fictional world of dæmons and reigning polar bears to challenge the conventions of Western Christianity. Operating in a genre typically modeled by the promotion of these ideas, Pullman is able to indulge in the recognizable fantasy form while subverting the very ideals that helped found it. And that’s just plain sexy.

My hard-on for Pullman aside, The Golden Compass, first of the trilogy, is the introduction into his world. It serves to set the stage for Lyra Belacqua, a charmingly bright girl, her curiosity matched only by her ability to talk her way into and out of any situation. Unsurprisingly, she becomes the keeper and sole reader of the Aletheiometer, the titular golden compass, which allows her to know the truth of any question asked. Of course, there are bad guys, in the form of the Magisterium, an omnipotent sort of government/church that tells people what to do. And of course, they kidnap children and perform horrible experiments on them, as any good evil corporation is prone to doing. There are witches and polar bear kingdom wars and all sorts of good stuff of the fantastical kind.

And to be perfectly honest, the film does a great job of capturing the story. While I didn’t feel as engrossed as I did reading the book, we were definitely in the same neighbourhood. Chris Weitz’s Oxford felt every bit as real as Pullman’s did. I know a lot of fans of the story were upset that the overtly religious tones were removed from the story, thus sterilizing it a bit, but it’s an understandable change; this is a Hollywood film, and ultimately, some folks are hoping to net a bit of cash, and blatantly pissing on a large demographic probably won’t help in that goal. And the themes are still there for those savvy folk (which gives me the sick delight in knowing at least some of those wholly opposed to Pullman’s point will set up movie fanpages in the near future, blissfully unaware). And the film really has enough going on to support having only a subtle nod – that theme is there for those who wish to see it.

The polar bears looked fantastic, and man, did I love hearing Ian McKellen voicing Iorek. Nicole Kidman is at her finest here, her icy demeanor less overt than Tilda Swinton’s Jadis, yet much more chilling; her motivations are far more tender than a mere appetite for power, and this lends her actions a far deeper resonance. Newcomer Dakota Blue Richards is pitch perfect as Lyra, her sauciness balancing her naiveté quite well. Plus, she looks SO MUCH like Lyra. This is like when the Harry Potter people were lucky to find Daniel Radcliffe, but audiences don’t have to sit through 4 films of terrible acting before seeing a decent protagonist onscreen.

And boy, was it pretty. I loved the effect of the Dust, particularly when daemons were snuffed out. It was a lovely addition to the fight scenes, as I do love my fight scenes with sparkly sugar frostings. The use of Dust in the Aletheiometer scenes was also great, as it was able to capture layers of meaning the device is described as possessing. Every now and then, the polar bears reminded me of Coca Cola commercials, but that just shows how effective that campaign was, if anything.

But honestly? It left me cold. And I think it was because it just reminded me of so many movies I’ve seen before. The futuristic cars in Oxford looked straight out of Episode 1: The Phantom Menace, the music sounded like the composer had listened to a bit too much Harry Potter, and the witches were a little too stylistically Arwen. And that was SO distracting. I felt like this film was too busy referencing a bunch of great fantasy epics that came before it that it completely lost its own sense of style.

And hell, I get it Weitz: your biggest hit to date was American Pie. Sure, About a Boy was good, but what if that was a fluke? You WERE responsible for Down to Earth, starring Chris Rock, of all unsavoury characters. If I were Weitz and were pegged to direct a great fantasy epic, you bet your ass I’d be watching the extended Lord of the Rings and jotting down pointers.

This is small criticism compared to the many great feats of workmanship on display here. And I was anticipating this movie with baited breath, so maybe my expectations were a little high. And I’ve seen far too many movies. I was anticipating something truly spectacular, worthy of Pullman’s fantastic writing. So while The Golden Compass is surely no Narnia, it comes pretty close, and deserves at least one theatre viewing (because just WAIT until you see that bear fight).

3.7 jigglypuffs out of 5

Amanda

when the sun shines, we'll shine together

Days like this remind me I ought to be living in London.

Working in the mall, you tend to be cut off from the outside world. I have no windows to key me to weather cues, so I guess based on people's hair. Rain is easy. Snow slightly more difficult. Wind is generally pretty entertaining. Sunshine is virtually undetectable. I thrive on bad weather, if only because it adds interest to my very bland consumerism-based day.

Also, customers LOVE to discuss weather. This may be because the majority of my customers are elderly, but regardless. I've had so many people tell me how horrible the weather is, how terrible it's made their mood, how they just want to go home and curl up under some blankets and cry themselves to sleep because mygodwhywon'ttherainjuststop??.

I walked home. And I rather enjoyed it.

I'm one of those freaks who genuinely enjoys the rain, assuming I'm somewhat prepared for it. If I'm armed with an umbrella, walks in the rain are some of my favourite walks. I'm also one of those freaks who genuinely enjoys walks, so just imagine that: rain walks top MY list of favourite walks. Suck on that, weather-complainers.

On a related note, be nice to your umbrella. I hate that old wives' tale about opening umbrellas indoors, because doesn't your umbrella deserve some warmth? Doesn't it try its very hardest to keep you dry after you've dragged it from its slumber indoors? Doesn't it suffer enough abuse from the wind, trying to bend your poor comrade's spokes? And on top of all of this, does it also have to deal with some superstitions about how "unlucky" it is? Your umbrella has been through enough today. So let it fucking lie open while it dries. Have some compassion.

Amanda

and I feel my finger on your trigger

I feel like I'm always waiting for something more. When I blog, I feel that it's a substitution for something else. Something more important. Something I'm lacking. And so, I am left with a collection of vague, brief summaries of my life of late. As I'm sure you've noticed, my life as of late has been somewhat less than stellar; certainly not terrible, but lacking anything of substance, which is probably why I lack the motivation to write anything but brief summaries. And those feel done out of obligation, to myself; I still need to convince myself that I'm a writer. Writers write, so I write subpar summaries that lack any sort of depth.

And why? Why am I scared of writing? Well, as for the blog, it's a very public forum. I intend to share my thoughts, but doing so can end up hurting others (as has happened in the past), and ends up hurting me. I'm a private person. I get so, am so caught up in self-preservation that I end up editing myself before the sentence is even typed, before the words leave my mouth. I'm tired of being afraid to be wrong, and I'm tired of swallowing words that should be said, because I know that I have things to say that are important. I have stories that have been told, but never before by me. And the fear of being uncreative has made me stagnant; I'm not doing anything because I'm afraid that if I do something and it's not very good, I'll break that fragile idea I have of myself as a creator, as a writer.

So I'm making a decision not to do that anymore. And it's a hard thing to decide, because I know I'm a lazy person, but I know I also use that as an excuse. I know that this is possibly the most important thing I have decided for myself, which may sound a little of an exaggeration, but if you think that, I suppose you've never felt the frustration of distancing yourself from that thing that really truly turns you on.

Things I know: I know that I miss the feeling of getting so throughly engrossed in what I'm writing that hours go by and I don't even notice. I know I miss the thrill of crafting something that is surprisingly, genuinely good, and the pride I feel in my own work. I know I miss creating. I know I miss words, and the way that I used to feel some of them burrow their way under my skin, and I miss when the burrowing words were my own.

This could mean more posting, but it will probably mean less. I'm also tired of promising to post more and then not doing it, or then doing it, and not writing anything interesting for either anyone reading or myself. But know that even though I'm not writing here, I am writing.

Amanda

darkly dreaming

I'd intended a few times to blog. And then I was all keen on NaBloPoMo, a sister project to NaNoWriMo (a project I would still like to participate in sometime). Clearly, I have not done either.

There are semi-good reasons for this. Those reasons being a)beginning a new job and b) Christmas gifts still to churn out. I'd love to spend evenings writing, but I'm having a hard enough time working on personal journal entries (my goal to write at least once a day) in addition to spinning up some lovely yarn creations for members of my family (and, by extension, catch up on all of that TV I've been missing).

New job (at old job) is fine. The staff who I am working with are great, and I already feel much better working at a place that is devoid of eggshells (there is one ego, but I'm his superior in title. Also, I've made a fine game of being unimpressed every time he attempts to shoot off his cocky mouth). However, I'm totally bored. I'm learning old computer systems that are really terribly designed, and spend most of my time counting money and directing staff to change labels. It seems said company has made it rather difficult to manage its products (which I suppose is one of the problems with carrying so many different vendor products in the same place). It's not a hard job, but it's a dull one.

Also, I was finally given an invite to Ravelry, an online knit and crochet community that is fabulous. You can document all of your projects, including yarn, needle size, pattern, modifications, and post pictures, and because everyone is documenting their knit goods, it makes it SO easy to find patterns based on things like yarn weight (which is the size of the actual strand of yarn). This makes it excellent for stash busting (yarn stash is extra yarn you've got lying around. Every knitter has it). You can even document your stash, tag patterns you'd like to try in the future, get feedback on patterns and yarns from other knitters... it just makes me very happy. I like when handcrafts and technology work so well together.

Also, this means I probably won't be talking about knitting on here much anymore, so yay for you non-interested readers, and also boo, for there goes half of my source material.

I've FINALLY watched all of season one of Dexter. It is such a fantastic show - this is the show CSI wishes it were, except with a lot more blood. I was most impressed by Michael C. Hall's performance: he completely inhabits the skin of a sociopathic serial killer while still remaining wholly likable. After Six Feet Under, I was wary that he would always be David to me, and Dexter has proved that he is a chameleon like no other (unless he actually is Dexter, which wouldn't surprise me). Apparently the execs had a hard time convincing him to accept the role, so am I ever glad he did. Also impressive is Jennifer Carpenter, Dexter's sister. Considering her major role before this was as the titular Emily Rose in that crappy exorcism movie with Donald Sutherland, she brought a believability and originality to a character that could easily have been played as a thoroughly damsel part. All in all, fantastic series, beautifully shot, wonderfully casted (with Darla! From Buffy!).

Amanda

Edited to add: want to know the joy of intarsia?
(Click on the pink ball to start. If you're ending a row on the right, press right once more to start the next row (same for left). Don't forget to set your yarn colour!

telling strangers personal things

On Friday, I began a post. And then Marta came over, and I worked and worked and worked, and somehow had time to watch Runaway Bride while feeling unusually sympathetic towards Julia Roberts' plight and finding Richard Gere hot in a grandpa sorta way, and seeing an episode of Rich Bride, Poor Bride where the couple registered at WALMART and I actually think it was in Brampton, and somewhere in the melee, the post never got finished. So now, live, from last Friday...

I finally saw Regina Spektor play last night.

It's hard to believe that such spectacular performer resides in such a slight of a girl, yet her stage luminosity is quite the sight to behold. Captivating a sold out audience with merely her effortless voice and her skilled fingertips, Regina is one of those few performers where music radiates from her, and you can't help but be caught up in her earnest, honest world. It doesn't hurt that she is seriously talented, both as a pianist and as a vocal performer - I'm difficult to impress with a vocal performance, and Regina is one of the few people who has a truly flawless voice, with an incredible range and such brilliant control. At one point she played the piano with one hand, a chair as a drum with the other while singing fabulously; who could resist?

Most impressive was her lightness. It was so exciting to see a performer who believes in having FUN with her music, rather than taking herself as seriously as most do. Needless to say at this point (after I have giddily extoled her virtues), I was blown away. Regina is awesome. Case closed.

Although now I am not basking in the glow of my renewed love for Regina, I am still impressed.

Today was the last day at Garden Centre X. While I'm glad to be out of there for a variety of very legitimate reasons, I'm still sad to go. I genuinely enjoyed the work itself, just not all of the other bullshit that was involved in working there. Which leads me to think that maybe if I still feel this inkling down the line, my flower shop dream is not completely dead (but you know it'd have to be my own shop, because I ain't being a bitch no more).

Tomorrow I will heading back to London. I have a feeling it will be weird, a place I know well, but don't really belong in anymore. Except I'm excited to go out with old pals. Not just because I'll be going out with people I get to see too rarely, but also because I will be able to go out. Brampton is pretty devoid of a night life - that is, it has one that I would prefer to stay far, far away from. So yeah.

Oh, also, I was watching Chuck while I was in a more receptive state of mind (also the evening of the Runaway Bride incident), and happened to scribble this little gem:

Is it just me or does the "hottie" of Chuck looks like she should be the "hottie" in a sci fi show? She definitely follows the "look" of such shows, and every scene she's lit in reminds me of the brief snippets of Andromeda and La Femme Nikita that I've seen. This show's just made for nerds of all sorts, and I just love it for that. Random pop culture references? Computer programmers? Stylized action-drama format? Adam Baldwin? Slight homo-erotic tones? Hot chicks fighting in skimpy clothing weekly?

Check.

Amanda

and all you see is where else you could be when you're at home

I wish I could post through the sheer power of my brain. This thing would be updated much more frequently, and generally with more interesting things. At work, I'll often brainstorm things to write about (because I'm so devoid of mental stimulation, I'll daydream about blogging - talk about a dead-end job).

At this point, I'm interjecting my own ramblings: there was just a power flicker, my computer turned off, and Blogger is SO AWESOME, it saved what I had written thus far. Keep on keepin' on, friend-website.

Anyway, if I could remember all of the deliciously delightful topics I cover so thoroughly in my head, I'm sure this blog would be filled with a lot more. But by the time I get home, I'm so weary that I rarely sit down at my computer to check my email, let alone write. And half the time I can't remember the topics anyway. Perhaps I should start writing them down.



New hat finished! This is my brother's Christmas gift, so let's hope he doesn't check this blog (although he knows what he's getting). I had planned to make him Jayne Cobb's hat for Christmas since I picked up needles, so this was inevitable - and then he requested I make it! It only took me ONE WEEK, which, I must say, impressed even me. My brother has a fat head (hence the hat... bagginess?), so I ended up casting on 100 stitches instead of the recommended 72. Also, mine looks a little neater than the original, but that's just how I roll. The speed gives me hope that I'll be able to make my parents' gifts AND an awesome boatneck sweater for myself by Christmas. Knit.1 came out with their fall issue and it's got me all excited for some projects for myself (AND they had Kim and Bree from ANTM do most of the modeling! (I know you all didn't forget about that hot lez)). Considering Knit.1 is the ONLY knitting magazine that I feel reflects my tastes, and it only comes out 4 times a year, this is breaking news.

Does anyone else have a love/hate relationship with Chuck yet? Or think the titular character looks like a hybrid of John Krasinski, Adam Brody, and Jimmy Fallon, and also think that is NOT a bad thing? And also love that Adam Baldwin is in it (I KNOW)?

Heroes is better than the finale of season two, but that isn't saying much. This is the sophomore year, and you can tell. I like that Hiro is the hero he idolizes - a predictable yet satisfying scenario. Claire's angel stalker is lame, Mr Bennett employed by Staples delights me, and Peter's story thus far is SUPPOSED to be intriguing. I will now predict what will happen: there's an evil and a good Peter. He's the bad guy who attacked Petrelli mama and Captain Sulu. There'll be an epic showdown where he has to fight himself in a quintessential battle between good and evil, which is deciding which team you're on (because in these kinds of stories, there is rarely grey area for characters). And I'll also predict the outcome of that battle: good Pete will win, but Nathan, his Cane, will succumb to the power of the dark side. Note this date, folks, so when it happens, I can heartily bellow my "I told you so" (I won't really).

I'll try to start writing down my blog ideas. For your sake.

Amanda