Oh now. Who wouldn't want to spend the rest of their lives with one of these fine, fine families.
(I needed a laugh.)
Whoo boy. Imagine.
There seems to be a big difference between King Fergus and the fellas that the character Merida was being asked to be married to.
I mean just look at em.
"...Andrews: She isn’t any different. She’s like Woody. The thing that makes “Toy Story” work is that Woody’s problems come about as a result of his own faults. The thing that makes “Brave” take off is a result of Merida’s own faults. ...
That Mr. Andrews is talking about Merida's refusal to marry. This isn't the first time I've read this.
Q: Was there anything cut that was painful?
Andrews: Not for me. I know there were scenes the story artists had worked on such as one where the lords were trying to talk to Elinor through the door to her room, thinking she’s in there, but it’s actually the triplet (sons) who are trying to distract them. It’s funny and they spent a lot of time on it but the whole idea was just lifted (out). Also, animals weren’t in the film at all (before I came onboard) so I put animals in. The tech guys who spent two years creating scenes with snow weren’t happy with me because I cut out those scenes...."
When he says that the movie about a girl fighting against being sold into a cultural slavery was one that had no gender.
I'm going to be sexist here.
I can be because I am female.
Only a female would have been able to know the true consequences of being chattel.
You may hold the hand of the mother of your children as she gives birth.
But someone would have to double up their fist and hit you in the groin while you were suffering the pain of passing a kidney stone the size of a basket ball through your penis before you'd know the pain she was going through.
I hope in your next life that you are born the daughter of a clan chief in ancient Scotland.
I'm going to the movies this weekend. Will write my review here.
By the way, I might have bloodlines that go back to Robert the Bruce but my family has been American since the time of the American revolution back in the 1700's. LOL, I could actually be a full member of the DAR.
I am American.
Before you read this review, you might want to review your vocabulary and your history of the clans of ancient Scotland.
You ll want to know the definition of the words "chattel" and "brave" and "whitewash", "spouse" vs "husband". You'll also want to know that the time period of this movie was barbaric to say the least. King Fergus was a clan chieftain. You might want to think of it as mafia families and King Fergus the Don of the Ferguson family. There would be a reason why the character, Merida, would want to flee from her situation. In the case of this movie, Merida's character would have been "married" off to another clan and kept as a kind of hostage by her spouses tribe. She'd be expected to produce heirs for her spouses clan. She'd be expected to swear allegiance to this other clan. As "pretty" as Pixar and Disney would try to make it, it would be a desperate situation for the young princes. Especially a princess who'd been raised by her father to be strong and independent. Raised male centric. To go from that to being a hostage isn't the happiest fate. Especially not happy if your mother is telling you that it's a good thing to be a hostage.
The character Queen Elinor wasn't married off into such a fate. Which to me is the real fairytale in this movie.
If Merida's character had been born male it would have been a much different situation.
Again, I am glad that I'm American. I'm also glad that I have a son and not a daughter. Even now it amazes me the priveledged given to males vs those given females.
Remember the 12 dots challenge to write a story using the post titles and the post comments? Well someone did it.
To recap. I used to write another blog. It was the very first blog that I'd ever written and it evolved into a kind of Zen Garden. There I constructed a story telling machine. The InterActive Blog Story. Toward the end, when I knew that the blog would be shut down, I used to love to randomly click through the links to read the various stories that would seem to magically appear. In reality it wasn't magic but very hard work that brought that blog to light.
That blog gave me something wonderful. Because of that blog? I knew. I am a writer.
It also let me come into the world of a lovely person, who even if they were a bit LOL grumpy, was so very talented and very kind in the good way. They promised me something and unlike all the other people who promised? They were one of the only people to keep their word.
I miss writing to them and hearing how they are very much.
It doesn't have a title.
If you have the ..... to come out into the light? Twitter me.
(And don't forget that what you write has a play list.)
"I was reading another blog's comments. There were passionate arguments over last night's Glee. If you looked at the time stamp for the comments you could see the dedication to the argument. People were "liking" comments left and right.
I was profoundly affected.
LOL, if only the argument was about health care and tax reform."
Intern given directions on how to care for the farm? Check.
Welcome to 12dots.
A writer's journal.
Fact and fiction co exist here.
If you don't know which is which?
And for the record it isn't an abandoned or inactive blog.
Look here for future posts.
Good for you for showing up day after day and putting yourself out there. It wasn't easy was it. Now all that hard work has paid off and your doing good in everyway EXCEPT the nice department. Money might not buy happiness but it can buy a very expensive head doctor.
Seems like there's been quite a few people who think they're hot sh@T pontificating on your life. Honestly they couldn't have made it past day one. You're correct to complain and complain mightily. Remember to listen to everyone and then tell the Azzes to f43k off.
PS I am not one of the Azzes.
I realize that you are a very insecure two face but please do us all a favor and keep it within your own life boundaries.
You really don't need to read here. From what I've seen you're a narcissistic jerk. If I were you I'd keep living in that fantasy world over on the other horoscope. That way you can continue to function. Don't come back around here though. I've got a cosmic restraining order.
You are magnificent. I heard that your sign fathered 5 lion cubs last year. I hear that Sagittarius's lawyer is looking for you. Something about all those little cubs needing things like shoes and clothes and well I hope that your wallet is as magnificent as your ego.
Note: that's for the guy Leo. If you're a female Leo. Tell your lawyer to call me. I'm pretty sure I saw your Sagittarius baby daddy hiding out with the Cancer jerk. Get your money quick. That Cancer goes through money like poop through a goose.
You? Don't ask me if you are a virgin in front of your boyfriend. I'd have to tell the truth and neither of you would like it.
The only way you are going to achieve that Libra balance is if you take Lithium. On your chart? They should bring back the term Maniac Depressive. Bipolar is just too nice for your kind of crazy.
Honestly I'm thinking that your sign should be Cancer. Were you adopted?
Your sign needs to hook up with that Leo person. Together you can live in the rhythmic world and populate it with lots of little fur babies. Just don't come looking to me when the child support fairy comes a callin'
. Oh wait he's on the other lion. ...
You have enough trouble with your birthday at the same time as Christmas. Be happy and demand twice the presents.
I've known nice ones and I've know real jerk ones and I've known the ones who alternate between nice and jerk.
So to the jerk ones? Go hang out with Cancer ones and then go read the horoscopes that suck up.
To the alternating jerk one.
Go read the Libra horoscope.
And to the nice one?
There's always the exception to the rule.
Now then. I know that there are going to be bipolar Libras who are gonna come calling and yelling about the importance of lithium on the periodic table.
Good for you.
This is for entertainment purposes only. If you don't like it? Too bad. I still get a paycheck for writing it. Save your breath. I don't care.
I'm going. Just for a while. I'm feeling all bloated and derivative and like I'm just going through the motions. This is no good for you or for me. So? I'm going.
This isn't an abandoned blog.
CAF, writer of 12 dots blog.
PS. Mr. Blueberry, I'm sorry. I know that you've been great it's just that I'm depleted for the moment. I need to just go out into the world and do something else. If I don't, the place that writes might just be too pooped to write anymore. Plus, I'm just sad. It appears that I won't be able to go to the place on the lake that look like home. It's like losing home again.
"...My heart goin' boom, boom, boom, boom. 'Grab your things I've come to take you home'..."*
The movie Brave will soon be released. Have been looking at the pre-release publicity and the snippets of the actual movie. From what's been said in the promos, this is a princess who doesn't need to be rescued by a prince.
Dunno' but I'm not so sure that this is such a good thing.
Honestly, there are times when being "rescued" by a handsome prince and then riding off into the "happily ever after" future seems like a very good idea.
It's rainy out. Here I was looking forward to working out side and it gets weepy outside.
*line form the Peter Gabriel song Solsbury Hill. I love the line "My heart going boom, boom, boom..."
Don't know about you but I could use some romance of the kind that heart palpitations and the words swoon were created for. The idea of hearing the dogs bark and looking out at the gate to see someone. The anticipation. LOL. Did I ever tell you about the catsup commercial?
So here's a challenge.Look over there to the left of the blog posts and you'll see a listing of blog post titles. Go look now. I'll wait.
The challenge? Try to write a story using the blog titles. Kind of your own interactive blog story. Extra points if you can make the content of the posts relevant to the story. I'll be reading and trying to find the best "story" to post.
Got good nights sleep.
Did good thing this weekend.
Going to have fun now.
This isn't a dormant blog.
Just have things to do.
Twitter is up.
Rerun farty is winging through the tv air waves.
Today? It's a holiday.
(This is stuff to read while I'm gone to do holiday things.)
Now let's all go out side and play.
When it gets daylight.
Oh and who's the Gentle Reader from Ireland?
The blog keeps up with the posts that you read. I've been having the best time rereading these posts. They actually tell a kind of story and remind me of the Interactive Blog Stories on the old 12dogs.
Lets just say that we
DID NOT BUY THE BORING CAR...
(OMG, thank you lady at the gas station who was driving the convertable. Man were you right. Just as easy to put a car seat in a fun car as it is a mini van. Who knew that a walk outside could be so much fun.)
Before he was 11 he hopped on a bus and took a trip 90 miles one way.
He wanted to go see the Vulcan.
When he was a teenager, he and his brother ran away from home. They worked on a ship that took them to Cuba.
I think that it was a banana boat but I'm not sure.
Then? He lied about his age and joined the service.
They found out and sent him home.
When he was in his 60's, he sailed the boat that he'd built to Cuba.
He went to see Earnest Hemmingway's house..
In his 80's he knocked on death's door, stayed long enough to see that the people in the place he was headed were very nice and very understanding about his earlier "adventures". "He's got it out of his system. He'll be wanting a bit of a rest now." they'd said.
While he was visiting this place, he was unconcious to us. Like he was sleeping. I remember sitting in the ICU waiting room crying and praying to God to let him come back. "We have unfinished business. Things that if they aren't sorted out will haunt our family. Please, let him come back."
He came back to us because he had unfinished business to take care of with us.
He kissed my head and told me that he loved me.
Then for Father's Day we built a stand for his out board motor.
He is my father. What I wanted was to make sure that he loved me.
He never really told me before.
For my brother?
You'll have to ask my brother.
For my Dad because he has a sense of humor and has been on tough cookie to the rest of the world. to me?
"...Their authors found it was the point of time - not too near and not too far away - on which their imaginations could most easily focus..."
forward to the novel
The Go Between
H P Hartley
"... I've been crying again. I went to see my father and during the conversation he showed me his arm. It's covered with at least half a dozen circular bruises. All about the size of a half dollar. They are completely blue-black to the edges. He told me that he'd seen a physician's assistant and was told that this was the result of medications that he's taking. I told him that he should go back and see his doctor. Before we left, I told him that I'd see what I could find out about the medicine. I'd see if there was any drug interactions.
But that's not why I'm crying now.
I'm crying because I asked to go with him and my Mom to see the doctor. I had questions about why the PA would be so calm about such extensive bruising. According to my Dad, the PA was supposed to have said, look around every one has this problem.
One of the bruises on the other arm has a sore type place in the center of it. He told me that the skin over the bruise broke and formed a sore.
My Mom said specifically that I couldn't go with them to the dermatologist.
You have to understand that when I was finally told that my Dad was sick the last time, that it was via WB who'd been left a message on his answering machine. By the time the message was left, my dad had been taken from his home via ambulance, taken to the local ER, taken to the ER of a hospital 60 miles away, put into the hospital where he stayed until he was placed into the ICU.
By that time, the ICU doctor said that his illness was so grave that he might die.
All of this happened in a matter of 3 weeks. I'd talked to him at the first of the month. By the end of the month he was unconscious.
I wasn't contacted at all in the three weeks that his condition grew worse.
Have been watching LLSwTv'sCF on the Internet. Something (sleep and agrivation) has kept me from watching day of. Delighted that CBS, World Wide Pants, the LLS, and CF are okay with the downloads.
Kiss, kiss (LOL)
The folks at The Slacker Chronicles.
PS The new Intern says, "Howdy. Some day I want to become a competitive computer game player."
I love school. I really do. What I don't love is spending enormous amounts of time and effort studying for something I hate. I did that. Then I took the tests to do it as a job. Then I did it as a job until you retired.
The only thing that I've done for myself without regard to anyone other than myself?
I didn't care if anyone thought it was good or if it would sell. I just did it for the wonder of it. I've met some lovely people because of it. But, well, I'm not sure about this next part. What do I do next? I'd like some company on this next part of my life.
Have been reading a tiny book about a tiny woman entitled "Mother and Me By Virginia Pounds Brown. Both author and her mom are from Alabama. I've actually met her publisher. Nice man.
Yes, you, Gentle Reader.
This is 12dots and a blot.
A writer's journal.
A fiction writer's journal.
Fact and fiction co exist here.
If you do not know what's the fact and what's the fiction?
Do not ASSumme.
Between JP Morgan, Facebook offering, increases in tuition, and the Greek elections, life might look bleak.
But for hours in the middle of the night.
I once heard a fella say, "...All the chaos that roils in our lives? It lives in the wee hours and moments. Those things that happen in our first place on Earth. There in the nest of our families or arms of the world? We begin to knit together the neurosis of 50. The clues to bring order are there hidden in the open.. Or at the very least the coming to terms, can be found there. Dislodge them, discard them, gather them to your breast and mother them? Lucky is the person who can revisit clear eyed. If you seek them out? You will find the contentment of old age. It's how we come to be, Ann. Try as hard as you can to look away and the subconscious monster will come drag you back until she is satisfied...."
It's a hard trade.
To let go of the past is as simple as taking off a heavy wool coat.
Sure it's kept you warm but comes a day when it's just no good. Comes Spring and that coat no longer keeps you content or warm. It's a burden.
I've spent quite a bit of time trying to sort out all those incomplete puzzles pieces that lay scattered about on the floor of this room. Photos and letters. Diaries. Memories. I've tried to make some sense till I'm exhausted from the effort. Some day someone will come. A distraction from this game. They'll pull me away from it with promises of sunshine and the out of doors. They'll collect my tears in buckets and then take them and my sorry self to the Gulf and throw them and me laughing into the water.
Baptised in the new, I'll be happy with the idea of the future and some how okay with the past.
There are one or two more things to do.
I find that a visit to an old friend is one.
It's either let go or grab hold.
Step one to it, is to take a sense of humor.
More important than your towel.
Don't get so distracted or attached to the past that it keeps you from your future.
Good luck and hugs. I'm only seeing the soveniers of your journey. The tats on your arms and the photos of where you've been.
For what it's worth, I feel a great deal of love and contentment, but foresee a gale or two before the boat reaches home. An old anger is to be dealt with. It's because of a hurting heart that this comes so it's best to stand up and not flinch. Maybe some of it's deserved? Even so hopefully it's over quick and followed by sun. It's the test of staying and forgiveness.
It's the reason why couples who live together for the rest of their lives get that funny look when they say, "Us? Fight? Ah no, never."
Because they do fight. We all do. It's just the forgiveness and the knowledge of what they'd loose should the fight cause leaving that they're thinking of when they look so funny.
The nights when they've thought, " No more."
The mornings they've said, "Always."
If I could, I'd spare you this reality. Give you some potion. Something to take to keep you staying or by pass the anger.
But I've nothing to give you but love.
This is a love song in the form of a dream. It's incomplete in some places. Like passing through time. I could edit it but I'm a poet at heart. Editing would ruin the music of it. Polish would make it slippery and very difficult to walk throught. It's already difficult enough with out making it worse.
So just know that it's a love song. Some maternal. Some reminising. Some for another that's definately not maternal.
I live in a world that -- hmm-- I live in a world of hope and longing. For me there is upheaval. Some my fault but a good deal isn't. I've made an art of holding on to the illusions and pretty pictures of life because how would I survive otherwise. How do I keep the notion that there is in this world someone for me. I'm not young anymore. In this culture who would want me. It's too easy to find someone younger and prettier. There's no need to wade through all the coming of getting old.
I went into a photographer's studio. It was an accident that I found myself there. Anyway, I was glad to be there because the work is very good. As I was looking around at the photographs, I asked the fella how much it would cost to have my photo taken. He quoted a price and then was curiously quiet. I asked if he could make me look as beautiful as the people on the walls and he came within a hairbreath of answering my question before the coward in me interupted him by saying, "Ah well there' is only so much a photographer can do. Not like a painter. I can still be interesting."
He looked at me and then said,, " Well you know. Maybe people will hear you if you look interesting. If you looked beautiful? Maybe they'd be distracted. Too distracted to care what you have to say."
It's still gives me a little knot in the pit of my stomach to remember this story.
I've tried to think of Margaret Thatcher and Hillary Clinton. Not ugly but not cover girls either. I wonder if they look into the mirror and see the wrinkles and the stress in what they see.
I look at my own image. I try to remember that interesting means a life spent in the moment.
At least I try to think it.
In other news?
I'm watching the LLS with CF in Scotland. It's surprisingly good. Love the mix of travelogue and metaphor. Certainly not boring.
"It's hard to stay up. It's been a long, long day and you've got the SandMan at your door..."
I am not a number.
I am not a demographic.
Nor am I a regional bias,
I am a human being.
I listen to Rush
I listen to NPR.
I read the liberal blogs
And the conservative.
I can join AARP at 50
But like one of our past presidents?
I can also jump out of a perfectly good airplane to celebrate being 80.
I can do this irregardless of my sex, age, gender, sexual preference, or racial make up.
I may be a Red Neck in a trailer down in the Deep South
Or I might be in NY,NY.
But with my Internet?
I'm a citizen of the world.
I love rap and opera.
Country music and clasical.
I can operate on a person in the AM
I can drive a Harley home.
I buy stuff.
I try very hard to listen to everyone not just the people who I agree with.
And I love to laugh.
While I can do these things between the ages of 18 to 48?
I will not stop doing these things because I have reached 50
or reached menopause
or blown out the 99 candles on my birthday cake.
I am sick, sick, sick of television for dummies.
It's not entertaining.
I have a brain.
That is why I started watching The Late Late Show with CF.
There in the middle of the night, I've been able to laugh at all the "bleeP" that has been sanitized, prechewed, and basically dumbed down for my entertainment.
Now? I have this terrible feeling that you're trying to dumb down TheLLS too.
Please, if you must screw with the rest of tv?
Hey have at it.
But when it comes to the Late Late Show with Tv's Craig Ferguson?
Post card from my May vacation.
Went out in the front yard in my boxers. Dogs needed a run and I needed the fresh air. This years rave for red neck motorcyclist must have been one heck of a time. We could hear them for miles. Seriously miles.
A couple of years ago when they had the Elvis impersonator, no one complained.
Anyway I got to sit in the front yard, watch the stars, listen to "Shout", and watch the dogs run around looking for rabbits.
In my underwear.
I am a writer.
I have that on good authority from an actual publisher. The kind that produce really good books. They said it but I already knew it.
I am a disinherited, sometimes broke, wanna be writer and poet.
For almost three years, I spent mornings happily writing in my blog (avg views/month 8,000). Life was good. Then the blog landlords "pulled the plug" and "vamoose" no more blog.
Now I write. I live my life with dogs in the middle of a forest (kind of) and I Blog