Jessica Jones

First of all, if you aren't watching this show, you should. It's sort of a Veronica Mars meets Phillip Marlowe meets Daredevil. Very noir. It's also an awesome example of how Marvel can make kick-ass women. I don't want to go into it too much and spoil it, but I could also go on for hours about how refreshing it is to have women that have been hurt without victimizing them. There is not a single woman in a refrigerator.

Secondly, the theme song and opening credits design is so good, and because it's a netflix show people that are binge watching will only see it the first time they turn on the tv (when the show keeps playing, it skips over the opening scene). That is a shame. Some people worked very hard on all of it, and I can't stress enough what an awesome job they did.

So, go watch! It's Marvel's first super-female led project, and I want more.

On Being an Artist

I will also add that my boss is an artist, and not a cranky robot. So while I may be a chicken sighing at my desk, I am not a starving chicken, and can afford the time to write when I get home.

Currently Reading: "On Writing" - Steven King

“Talent renders the whole idea of rehearsal meaningless; when you find something at which you are talented, you do it (whatever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes are ready to fall out of your head. Even when no one is listening (or reading or watching), every outing is a bravura performance, because you as the creator are happy. Perhaps even ecstatic.”

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.” 

"And what about those [writers' workshop] critiques, by the way? How valuable are they? Not very, in my experience, sorry. A lot of them are maddeningly vague. I love the feeling of Peter's story, someone may say. It had something... a sense of I don't know... there's a loving kind of you know... I can't exactly describe it....

It seems to occur to few of the attendees that if you have a feeling you just can't describe, you might just be, I don't know, kind of like, my sense of it is, maybe in the wrong fucking class.”

This Week

1) Beware of grouch Paige. This week lots of little bothers rolled into each other and turned me into one raging angry faux-adult. I took Friday off to work on an attitude adjustment and to spare my coworkers of my bitch-mouth, but I woke up late and wasted half the day, which only makes me grumpier.

2) Faith and The Human Spirit- You know what's a good way to snap out of a bad mood? Go see The 33. It's the kind of movie that makes you cry happy tears, and since you already know what happens to the Chilean miners you don't really have to spend the movie in a state of anxiety. I love the idea that you can be a Christian and believe God had a hand in keeping them all safe, or you can be anything else and still recognize that their faith in God kept them together. I want to believe in something so strongly that I could have that security.

3) You know what I do have faith in? My personal trainer, who continues to not take any shit from me while still being very nervous about my health. She's convinced I need to see a neurologist and is constantly worried I'm going to drop a weight on myself or pass out. She's not wrong to be worried, but she also has a unique perspective in that she sees my body working every week, knows what I eat, and is still concerned. A doctor you might see once, they suggest you eat better, and then they send you away. So there's a certain amount of validation in someone paying that close attention that can say "I see you struggling, and I see your body working differently than others, and Something is wrong."

4) Eating Healthier for that trainer- Ugh, do I hate protein drinks. But the rest of what she's instructed me to do isn't so bad. Lemon water (not water with lemon, but a glass of water with straight lemon juice in it) has been a surprisingly effective and easy change in my diet that's given me more energy, supposedly will help me lose weight, and also is giving my skin a boost.

5) And when I don't eat healthy? Thursday, the Taco Bell boy gave me the senior citizen discount because he thought I was cute. This also occasionally happens at my movie theater. Humble brag? Maybe. Weird compliment? I'll take it.

Movie Treat of the Week: The 33

QOTD: Nelson Mandela

“There is no passion to be found playing small – in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” 

Listening Today

3 Things

1) Being Sick- Two months ago, I bought myself a ticket to see Gillian Flynn (one of my top 5 favorite authors) speak at CWRU. The tickets weren't cheap, but they sold out quickly and it was worth it. Unfortunately, I did not get to go, which is making me sad. Nothing like getting up in the morning and thinking "I don't want to go to work, but I can't go to my speaker if I don't go to work," and then around 3:30 realize I'm too worn out to go. The only silver lining on all this is that the tickets were a fundraiser for the library, so when it all comes down to it I didn't "waste" my $30. Cuyahoga County Library gave me a library card when I was a PA citizen going to an Ohio college and it was one of the best libraries I've seen. So I can live with having given them some extra money.

2) Straws- I love straws. I love making my mom's special juice mix and mixing it with a straw. I love reading or watching tv or laying down and still being able to drink. I love how much easier it is to drink a lot, when you're super dehydrated and you just have to keep it up. But my cousin tells me straws are bad for the environment, so I must end this relationship.
Giving up straws feels like giving up your favorite blanket that you only take out when you're sick. But once I get through the package I was given when I moved in, I will not buy any more straws. Right now that mostly means I'm being very choosy about when I get to use them. If anyone knows of earth-friendly straws that aren't a pain to wash, send them my way.

3) Working from Home- I should not have stayed at work all day yesterday, but I'm learning. Sitting at my desk with a fever and exploding head mostly means I stare at the computer and get nothing done. Sitting in my bed with my heat pad and glasses of juice I can actually concentrate and be a little productive. So that's where I'll be this morning! Wish me luck that I shake this off before the end of the week.

Cooking.

This weekend I attempted to pre-cook some meals in preparation of the rest of the week. This looks very adult and organized on pinterest; in my kitchen, it's a little more touch-and-go.

Part of my problem is that there is some very stubborn part of me that's certain I know better than the recipe. This is half right; I won't like how the recipe does it. I just don't know how to substitute things I do like. That's a Becky Greene skill that I have not yet acquired--although she keeps reminding me that when she was my age she wasn't the cook she is now, and that I will learn by continuing to practice.

The problem is, practice is expensive and time consuming. I'm pretty sure I just started something in my slow cooker that will end up costing me 6 hours and $10 (not bad for several meals, but a bummer to waste) for some chicken that I won't eat because I put way too much water in. Not something I will be in a hurry to recreate, but I do think I already figured out the solution I should have tried.

I have mastered any pasta and meatballs. I have ravioli I keep meaning to make, but opening a jar of sauce is a commitment in itself as well. Partly there is just no good way to buy food in bulk/cheaper but cook for one person without anything getting spoiled. Breakfast is an easy solution, but I started missing the feeling of three meals a day. Veggies are still not finding their way on my plate, but I have some plans for that.

What are your best cooking recipes for picky eaters with very little time? Think creamy sauces with no fanciness, or veggies with lots of sugar or salt. Essentially it's like cooking for a toddler.

Home -Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well


your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied

no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here

Room

I finally finished Emma Donoghue's "Room" which my aunt bought me for my birthday. I've been slacking with my 2015 reading goals, but I did also finish "Why Not Me?" by Mindy Kahling. I almost always have an audiobook and a regular book going, so if you count it (and I do) then I might be closer to my goal.

First, the trailer for the movie:

The actual events of the book aren't a surprising twisty plot-- you pretty much can tell that they are in room, and then they will escape. But it's not really about that. It's a mother-son novel, a coming-of-age novel, a novel about rebirth...but not tragedy porn. The closest I can get to describing it without spoiling anything is that it's very much like The Lovely Bones. We know what happens in the beginning, we know there is something awful, but that's not the subject of the book. Room goes even further because Donoghue makes a very deliberate choice to keep the antagonist arm's length from the reader. This is not a book about a serial killer where he takes over the victim's story. This is about Ma and Jack.

I'll talk about Mindy Kahling's book later in a 5 things about last week post- I feel behind in October, so we're just going to pretend that month never happened and move right through November.

Anyway, go read Room. 4/5 stars, would read again.