Monday, October 24, 2011

And Now the Purple Dusk of Twilight Time...

Oh, I am wading into dangerous waters. On my fourth attempt, I am actually reading Twilight. Instead of reading the whole thing and leaving a conventional review, I thought I'd post my comments as I went along. This particular post will refer to pages 1-57. First and foremost I had trouble getting into this book for a lot of reasons:

1. I taught high school for 8 years. If Bella Swan had been in my class I would have wanted to smack her for her snotty attitude and for constantly hiding behind her hair. And what's with the melodrama of "my exile to Forks"?
2. As a writer I'm righteously indignant that Stephanie Meyers got to keep her vague Prologue. You know, the one they tell all the rest of us to cut out?
3. There's a lot of emphasis on that truck of hers. Then here comes the hero with a last name of Cullen. You know what that means....I'm trying to read this book and all I can hear in my head is

And that, combined with Bella's original disdain for said truck then reminds me of this updated gem from my high school days....

Okay, so once I got past the truck thing and the whiny teenager thing, I had to get real. One of my friends asked me if this was going to be a "love post" or a "barf post;" so far, I stick with my answer that it's more of an "I'm bemused by this entire phenomenon" post. A couple of things actually kept me reading. First, Bella's description of the biology room really took me back to my own biology class. Second, she dislikes math and can't play volleyball without getting injured--I can't either, so I decided to stick with her just a little longer. Third, as a writer I have to admit Meyers has asked some questions I want to answer. No, I'm not talking about how vampires sparkle, either.

So, sure, Bella's melodramatic. And, sure, Edward Cullen is no Angel, but I'll stick with it just a little longer. If I can just get those damned truck commercials out of my head!

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Dream Interpretation Time!

All last weekend I kept having these dreams where things would start to go my way then inexplicably go sour. Inevitably, I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling restless. One dream in particular stuck with me because I was in the middle of it when the alarm went off. Okay, amateur--or professional--dream interpreters, see if you can help me figure out what my subconscious is all about.

Ryan comes home excited about this great deal he's seen on a new house. (And this is partially how you know this is a dream because Ryan does not want to move. And neither do I) I reluctantly agree to go with him to check out this gem of a house on the other side of Kennesaw. We wind through town to the countryside (further proof this is a dream) to find a cute little ranch on a ton of acreage. We park in the looped driveway and enter the open house.

Okay, so there's a bathtub in the living room. Yes, a bathtub. Then the kitchen is tiny, but that's because there are two of them, almost identical galleys with the oven opening into the same space the refrigerator would open into. At the point the agent points out that the house belonged to twins so there had to be two of everything. I look at her like she has lost her mind.

As I walk through the house it becomes exponentially larger, kinda like the fourth Harry Potter where they walk into the tent and there's all that space. I start seeing possibilities and thinking that it's a real steal for $130,000. I keep thinking we could flip this place and make a ton of cash, and in the meantime, the kids would be able to have a playroom. I'm walking through and count at least 6 huge bedrooms, all with king-sized beds. No space is wasted--one of the bedrooms is up at the top of the stairs underneath the eave of the house with a bathroom on one side and a twin bed on the other. Remember this tiny space with the toilet at the top of the stairs because we'll come back to it later.

I'm practically sold on the place and already thinking of knocking down the wall between the twin kitchens to make one larger one and, of course, taking the tub out of the living room when the agent takes me down to the basement. It's huge! And finished! And they're installing hardwood floors in the three massive ballrooms down there. Then she takes me through the secret passage (too much Clue?) to the optometrist's office at the bottom of the cliff. Apparently, one of the twins had married an optometrist, and he preferred to walk through the earth's core to get to work. I don't know.

So, I'm getting totally enthusiastic about the house. I don't know where Ryan is. I think he must have dropped me off. Then I go back upstairs and step out on the back porch, which is huge with columns and overlooks the ocean. I'm sold at that point, and I'm going to get that house no matter what. Because, hey, let's fact it: there aren't that many ocean view homes in landlocked Kennesaw, GA. I turn to the agent and say, we'll take it.

And that's when things start falling apart.

First, a cop comes in to give me a parking ticket. For parking in what will soon be my own driveway. I argue with him until he sees how inane the whole thing is, and he goes away.

Then, once the house is mine (because the closing process in dreams is apparently light years quicker than in real life) the son of the former owner busts in with a gun wanting money. I someone console and cajole him out of actually robbing us but tell him he can have the proceeds of our next rummage sale, including what he would make from selling the extra tub. (Apparently, I really wanted to get that tub out of the living room)

Then I'm walking outside, taking in the sea breeze when the ocean starts encroaching on my beautiful neoclassical portico. Even though the house was originally on a cliff. The water is coming and sharks with arrows poking in their backs start circling over to the side even as water laps across the porch. I run for the house, but I had accidentally left the windows open, and the sharks come in with the water. Then I run upstairs for the tiny bedroom/bathroom thinking the sharks can't climb the stairs. And so sharks can't, but wolves can, and the sharks are turning into wolves. Blessedly the pink decor behind the toilet has suddenly become a wall of a hundred different guns. I take one down and start shooting, but I run out of bullets as the last wolf approaches, and he morphs into a man, a man who looks an awful lot like The Comedian, from the Watchmen graphic novel. He's coming for me. But I'm out of bullets. I'm backed into the toilet with the fuzzy cover.....

And the alarm goes off.

Someone please explain this to me. This can't possibly be a normal dream. This one is almost as bad as the Heavenly Hash dream from back in the day.