Holy Crap, I have done a lot in the past three days. This is, of course, the purpose of having a devoted touristy friend over, so that I go out and become aggressively touristy for several days.

So, I have logged several miles walking all over Chicago in the past few days, and seen much that is new and wondrous in this city, and significantly worn out some shoe leather. Life is good, however, and I will have a few days at the end of all this to be productive and get ready for the new quarter.

So, now I am hanging out watching a terrible Sandra Bullock movie and chilling enjoying my belly full of tasty food and my slightly achey feet.

This icon , called the Fatherhood or Paternity Icon, depending on how you translate the Russian "Otechestvo" is a heretical and bad icon. This is because it depicts God the Father in the form of the Ancient of Days, which is forbidden. Icons may not show God the father except in certain understood symbols. Also, showing the Holy Spirit as a dove except at the instance of Jesus's baptism (where the Holy Spirit canonically showed up as a dove) is also not okay. But lots of people do it anyways.

Russian has words that distinguish "azure" from "(dark) blue" with much the same emphasis that English distinguishes "pink" from "red."- They are perceived as related but totally different colors, like pink and red in English.

In signing up for a school that has quarters, I am signed up for a full 50% more finals per year! Great fun!

Icons often show a distinct kind of perspective called "inverse perspective"- this shows objects increases in size as they get farther away from you. This is done deliberately- you are not supposed to be able to think that the icon is reality, because it's NOT! Verisimilitude was a not a virtue in the icon-writing business.

There is a really good kind of mint green tea ( that originally came out "mink grean" and I was tempted to let it stay that way for my own amusement.) at the other library's cafe that I think I might go have.

I've read all the Twilight books, and at one time or another I owned a copy of each of them. I read them based on the recommendation of a friend who has similar tastes in recreational reading. Those tastes are, by the way, fairly varied, but we neither of us mind a book with some flaws to it if there is an interesting story, and think that readings levels are suggestions, rather than mandates.

She rec'd Twilight to me while I was in Austria and needing fun books to read, and she told me that I would like the story and find the main character kind of whiney and annoying. And it was true- I find Bella kind of whiney, and sometimes annoying, but she has enough internal life that I was willing to keep reading. And, that was fine, actually. I was in it for the story, and while I was reading it, the story was actually quite engaging.

So, I kind of devoured the books in a lump one vacation, and I went back to Austria soon thereafter and that was that. There was no Twilight culture in Austria, and so I didn't get overwhelmed by it. It was, in a way, like my reaction to Americana while I was abroad- when it's not everywhere all the time, I like it. When there's too much, I rebel like a cat on a leash, but when there's just a little, I'm happy.

So I chatted with my friend about the books, and we both agreed that Edward was rather too perfect and that Meyer's attitude toward sex was antiquated at best, and then I found out that she was a Mormon and, to be frank, it explained a lot. I liked Jacob for his attitude towards the whole suddenly-a-werewolf thing, and Bella's stupid insistence on staying with Edward (who was portrayed as being too perfect for me to like him, and too pateralistic, and, frankly, aside from liking each other, they didn't seem to have any fun together- what's the point of being with someone if they can't make you squirt milk out your nose?), well, it just seemed kind of Juliet-ish.

And I don't mean that in any kind of a good way- it means she's throwing herself and her hopes away on a boy she met at seventeen. It means she does not seem like she values herself as anything more than what she is now- there's no room for change or progress or anything. At seventeen, she's who she wants to be? Really? Because at seventeen I wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and get a real life. Now, when I look back at my seventeen-year-old self, I'm kind of embarrassed. I've come a long damned way, and I frankly like myself a lot better now than I did at the time. I cannot imagine a person who, at seventeen, is exactly where she wants to be without thinking that person is monumentally short-sighted and just plain wrong.

So, I kind of had an opinion about Bella and her choices. I was pretty well on Team Jacob, but on the whole I thought the books were a little silly and that there was no real reason to be so entranced by the whole series. The story was decent, but there've been better, and there've been worse. I've read a lot
of vampire fiction (Vampire Diaries, Anne Rice, Sunshine, The Time of Feasting, Dracula, Fang, Vamped, the Silver Kiss, Salem's Lot, I am Legend, the Historian, and a selection of LJ Smith) and Twilight? was really just another take on the issue for me. Some new elements, but generally the pattern of a girl falling for a vampire was not a new plot to me, and vampires were something that came in a variety of shapes and colors, only one of them sparkly. And I had no problem with that- it was just one way of telling the story, and if Meyer wanted to tell it like that, fine by me.

And then I got back to the US.

And there were people who really, really liked Edward. And who really liked Bella. And who really, really did not view the whole issue as vaguely funny, but were emotionally invested. And, even then! I was not annoyed by this. There are books on silly, silly topics that I am totally passionate about, and I can bore you with my strong opinion. But it was like the time in 6th grade, where I was reading Harry Potter and other kids in the school had read it. And wanted to talk to me about it. Which had never happened before in my entire. freaking. life. Suddenly, it was there, and having admitted to reading the books, it was assumed that I had a strong opinion about them. And that I would really like to discuss them. And that I was A Twilight Fan.

And that, gentle reader, is where I went off the rails. Because, here's the thing: I read what I want. I read juvenile fiction at age 23 because I like it and I think it's smart and that the stories can be intriguing and there need to be more powerful women in my fictional repertoire and because I give a damn. There are books I am willing to fight for. There are books that I am willing to go to the mattresses for, books I will acknowledge as silly and fluffy and light reading and I will still say that they are important and valuable because reading them brought me an ounce of pleasure and opened my mind by a hair's breadth or by a hundred yards, books that that ran to my heart as straight as a Roman road. I am not ashamed of the "trash" that I read.

I read Twilight because I wanted to. And if I read it again, it will be because I wanted to. But right now, with all the fuss and botheration, with all the foolish young women who want desperately for some perfect man to come and swoop them up at seventeen like I wanted some perfect man to swoop me up at seventeen, I have to say that I will not fight for Twilight. It's not good enough. It's not worth it to me. It's neither as bad as its worst enemies say nor as good as its proponents claim, but quite frankly, I just don't care. This book did not touch me enough for me to care. This book did not excite me enough for me to really care. And this book sure as hell did not make me think a new thought about my life, except "Dear God, I am so glad my head is not that screwed up." There is a reason that I viewed this book as a guilty pleasure, which is that it neither reflected life as I knew it nor painted a new life as I might wish it to be. It was a story. It was entertaining. I read it cause I wanted to. And now I don't want to anymore.

At best, Twilight was harmless. I want something better than that.

I just found out (ok, yesterday, but I've been too busy to post since then) that I got the summer internship in Chicago that I wanted! Yay! There's even some money.

There's a girl in the Harper library sitting across from me. She's quite pretty the common kind of way of girls of about 19- slender, dyed blonde hair from a pretty decent salon, dark eyes and eyebrows to let me know it's fake, but really horribly ugly chunky black glasses. And she's been cursing and swearing at her computer as she violent taps the keys for the last ten minutes. Ouch. Nice going, my dear.

Some thoughts that have been making their way through my head recently-

- Meeting people is nice. And, generally, most people are quite happy to meet and talk with you. I am told (by an incredibly biased source that I am charming, and I consider this to be a great asset on that front.

-I have quite pretty legs. Go me!

-Process theology is looking more and more interesting to me.

You know, I have a vivid memory of my mother telling a child-me that the movie she was watching was the story of a girl born without tear ducts and her family helping her get surgery.

The movie was "Boys Don't Cry."


...

I think I'm still going to giggle over this when I'm her age.

From http://sightergoliant.livejournal.com/14203.html

1) Read my 5 genre-picks
2) Comment with your 5 picks in a new genre, specifically recommended for the initial poster
3) Post 5 picks from that genre on your own journal, tailored to a general audience
4) Special Rule: your "general audience" picks can be the same as specific recommendations, too, nobody's keeping score.

So, I read a lot of graphic novels/ comic books, and I think that you should read the following:

SANDMAN- by Neil Gaiman- This is not my favorite series, but it is by far one of the seminal works in the medium. The protagonist, Dream, is the anthropomorphic embodiment of dreams. The stories run an incredible range, from those based on Greek mythology, to totally original works. One of my favorites is "Midsummer Night's Dream," the "The Dream of 1000 Cats" and "World's End," all of which are metatextual retellings of other stories from other genres.

KABUKI- by David Mack. Kabuki is a lovingly illustrated series with a heavy use of water color and ink, with beautiful gradual transitions from one image to another, all of which are symbolic to the main character. The main character is Kabuki, whose mother was an Ainu comfort woman raped and left pregnant in a coma by the son of the elderly general who protected her and intended to marry her. The daughter grew up trained to be a hired killer after her rapist father returned to carve the word "Kabuki" into her face. She works for as an assassin for a group called "The Noh," but the story tells of her gradual escape from them and the psychological prison in which she lived while working for them. The writing and tone are slow, dream-like explorations and the art is expansive and experimental- Mack works with collage and watercolors, depending on his mood, and the work is enthralling.

LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN-Alan Moore- This, this, this is a book for people who enjoy layered reference. The main characters are refugees from 19th century fiction, treated as if they were real people living in a shared world. Moore is incredible dense when it comes to his references- every shop name in London is a reference to something from contemporary literature. Characters include: Mina Harper, Dr Jekyll, Captain Nemo, Alan Quatermain, the Invisible Man, a brief appearance by Sherlock Holmes, and the ancestor of James Bond. The art is not my favorite- overly angular, but it fits with the spikey tone of the story. It's short- two volumes so far, but I think you would like the attitude of the main characters. No one's a hero in this book. No one.

LUCIFER- Mike Carey. This is a technically a spin-off of Sandman, in that the Devil we see Carey writing is introduced by Gaiman, but this series takes the war between God and the Lightbringer to new levels. Carey's depictions of hell is creative and unique, with long running plots that evolve, twist, and resolve into something utterly new before the end. Nothing is predictable, and everything is possible. Including Lucifer's ultimate challenge- a new, godless creation beyond the end of space and time.

ASTRO CITY- Kurt Busiek- This series is an exploration of the superhero mythos without being a deconstruction of it. Each issue is a short story focused on one character from the millions that make up Asro City. The characters are reimaginings of classic comic book tropes, but are incredibly full of life and their own take on classic issues and problems. The art is beautiful, and it's clearly done by someone who loves the superhero genre so famous in American comics but with a clear awareness of its strengths and flaws. A little research shows that most of the place names for the city are variations on the names of famous comic book authors and artists.

I just finished reading a book I bought yesterday, one of those mysteries that actually will not let you stop reading until you get to the final page because you cannot stand the possibility of another second of not knowing.

It's been a while, but I just had my brain totally hijacked by Tana French's IN THE WOODS. And I am thoroughly unsatisfied with the ending, but I also absolutely know that any other ending would probably have left me annoyed and unconvinced- the way it worked out was perfect for the character.

Just as a note, this review contains no spoilers. Safe to read.

So, this novel is about the slow unraveling of Adam Robert Ryan's adult life as a Irish murder detective as he tries, and perhaps fails, to confront his childhood memories of a murder.

In the 1980's, three small kids hitched themselves over the back wall of a yard to go play in the woods. At six thirty that day, one of them missed dinner. By the time the search was over several days later, one child had been recovered. His fingernails were broken off into the bark of the tree he had been clutching for hours. His shoes had been poured full of another child's blood, and then put back on his feet. He remembered nothing about the events, and was shuffled off to boarding school and changed his name.

This is the set-up. This is the hook, but it's far from the whole story. The actual story is about the brokenness of childhood as seen by an adult, and how you can't really ever be the people that your childhood self thought you were going to be when you would one day become a grown-up. This is the story of a man whose future was stolen, who became a detective not to solve his own mystery but because he could not return to the person that he was supposed to be before he lost his childhood and his two best friends, and then proceeds to destroy his present for himself. This story breaks your heart.

And it's a story about a place- a patch of ground covered in trees. As we start the story, the woods are dying- the last days of an archaeological dig are coming to an end before a motorway paves the lot of it flat. But the woods themselves are as much a character in this as the rest of the cast. The woods hide the monsters who killed two little children and never gave them back, but the woods were also the best playground these kids had, the safe place they knew like the back of their hand.

And I've just finished reading it, and spoiled nothing for you, and here's the thing: I still want to keep reading. I want there to be more.

Crap. I think I've got another favorite author.

Favorite quote from yesterday:
Scene: I am sitting on the couch downstairs while The Boy finishes up the last bit of his homework before bed. The olympics are on- women's speed skating. The Boy's Roommate's girlfriend sits down nearby.

She: So what was all that yelling we heard? We heard The Boy yelling from downstairs. Did something happen in the games?
Me: Um. We were watching figure skating.


So, I finished the Boy's present, which was lovely mint brownies cut into heart shapes. Which, BTW, is a bitch to do.

Sunday-
Church, where I was a lector and fudged a line, and was on chalice, and then headed over to get picked up by the Boy and our friend with the car, and went to see a free performance at the Chicago Cultural Center by Third Coast Percussion.

After that, me and Boy went back to Hyde Park by bus and we made dinner, which was great. Most of the menu was from various Alton Brown recipes. but it was very cute. And then there was figure skating watching, and other things, and a good time was had by all.