stuff is cool

Forgive me, friends who have had this rant emailed to them and also seen it on my Facebook notes. I am ranting all over the place.

SPOILERS

I just finsihed Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and . . . HATED IT. It was a train wreck! It had no surprises! It relied on weak theories, weak ideals, and weakly explained magic. It pushed so many characters into the background that i actually got sick of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And Dumbledore this, Dumbledore that. Where was Sirius? Why was Lupin barely involved? Snape didn’t show up until the last 1/4 of the looooong book. The entire Malfoy family faded into the wallpaper! What the hell!?

Oh man am I not happy. Order of the Phoenix remains my favorite book, but now if I go back and read it, I won’t have that anticipation of answers to come, because I know how lame the ending is.

Was anyone else totally underwhelmed? Did anyone else have a problem with the poorly explained re-tread of “Harry and Voldemeort 2 gether 4 ever.” For that matter, Voldemort’s death was a huge anticlimax.

The whole book was an anti-climax. The more I think about it, the more I don’t like it. I am going to tell my grandfather not to bother to buy me the UK edition when he goes to England.

It’s the end of an era for me, and not in the way I expected.

Here I live, downtown Houston right out my window, and right now I can hear the enchanting songs of croaking frogs! We owe it to the rainy weekend we’ve had. It’s really amazing. They are so loud. I love it. I get the best of both worlds: living in the heart of the city, plus the bonus “sounds of nature” echoing across the street from the dog park.

In case you were wondering, it is indeed “later that same night” after my toe/Harry Potter post. I joined my friends at Christian’s, a bar I can see from my living room window. We had a few drinks (me: gin and tonic) and listened to some loud karoke. Aaron’s little sister is hilarious. Anyhoo, Matt and Jen and I are home now and everyone’s getting ready for bed. Tonight, I take Harry Potter to bed instead of Danny.

Though I do have guests with me for the weekend (the lovely Jen and the strapping Matt), they are over at Little Woodrow’s while I am at home, resting my severely stubbed toe. Yes, I am now accident-prone on top of being “sickly.” I snagged my toe on the the bedsheet of my office bed, which is on the floor. I wrenched it well enough to somehow make it bleed, and today it have a deep purple bruise wrapped around it. And I can’t put any weight on it. FABULOUS!

I do plan to meet up with my guests, Aaron, one of Aaron’s sisters, and Reed and Becca (two very nice friends of Matt who I met at dinner) at Komodo once they finish up at LW’s. Komodo is across the street, in hobbling range.

In the meantime, I am starting to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at last, but just a few pages in I realized I had forgotten quite a bit, so I have been on Wikipedia catching up. And thus my mind began to wander and I made up my own wizard name. Circinia Deepwater. I would, of course, be a good witch. Danny must be a Deepwater as well, as my husband. But he can make up his own first name.

I don’t have any hobbies. Danny has Ultimate and computer stuff. In fact, he is really becoming involved in the Houston Ultimate Communitee (HUC) serving as an at-large member on their governing board (I can’t remember what it’s called.) For a long time I was upset that I didn’t have anything to do. At Rice, I was the Queen of “Being Involved.” I mean, I was Educational Vice President of Baker (two years in a row) and did O-week and did The Meg and Maggie Show and South Asian Society and had my column in the paper and was in ADVANCE and the list goes on and on to a point of being obnoxious. But then I graduated and I got lost. In the “real world” it’s much harder to find things to do, to fit them into your schedule, and extract any real meaning or feeling of efficacy from them. So I have floundered, big time.

But lately I have found something that has consumed my interest. I have always adored history. But lately I have particularly been absorbed in British history, primarily the House of Stuart, the Commonweath, and the Restoration. Last night Danny commented “I don’t know how you can spend so many hours studying one period in time.” I don’t know either. I just read for hours and hours about Charles II and everything remotely related to him. I read about bits of French history (like the Fronde) and Portugese history and even finally leared what and where the hell Orange was.

Thus I have come to the conclusion that I simly must get a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Oh, the Corgi is still up there. But how can a girl who is determined to know everything there is to know about King Charles and his family not have a dog in the breed that he adored and made famous?

So, in a few years, TWO new dogs will be welcomed into the DiPaolo family (after I am offically welcomed myself!) The Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Chalres Alastair Windsor the Pooh, and a Cavalier King Charles spaniel, who cannot be named Charles. So what can he be named? Not James, after the unfortunate brother of Charles II who was overthown by his own daughters. Not Buckingham, not because I don’t like the Duke of Buckingham, but because I don’t want him to be called Buck. Stuart? For a dog? Maybe.

But I digress. How can I turn this passion into something real? There aren’t clubs for history buffs, as far as I know. And I have a full-time job, so I can’t go over to Rice and ask to help out in the History Department. Plus there’s nobody there who studies that particular time is history.

Do I go back to school and get a Masters degree? What would I do with it once I had it? It would be incredible to get a Doctorate but again, what do I do with it? I don’t want to teach. Hmpf. It’ss not that I think I am too old, because Dr. Bellows got hers when she was, well, very much a grown-up. but I just don’t think that’s the path I want to take. I just really, really love history.

And so I go back to scouring the Internet and sticking my nose in a book (currently The Loves of Charles II.)

I spent most of the day in bed reading, and that is what I would like to do all day every day if I could. I have about 12 books lined up and I am like a kid in a candy store, not knowing where to start, gazing at each of them longingly, turning them over in my hand, feeling their weight. I love books. I wanna read, dammit!

I strongly suggest you check out:

Reality Millionaire by Mike Peterson

I am *very familiar* with it. And I think it is EXCELLENT and the author is AMAZING.

My burn is still a deep purple. I got a whole other jar of the antibiotic goop, and I think I’ll keep using it for a few more days until it is completely free of rawness. Then I switch to 8 weeks (!) of Mederma to prevent scarring. A tiny tube costs nearly 20 bucks, as Danny keeps reminding me (he is the one who has been going to CVS and buying my 5 dollar 1-time use bandages and now the Mederma.) 8 weeks, geez. But I don’t want a huge-ass scar on my leg.

This bruise-burn area is much larger than the infamous bruise I recieved when I wiped out in a puddle at Walgreens and slammed my back into the shelves. We took pictures of that, too. We’re sick people.

Speaking of backs, it took two full IVs of steroids to knock out this round of crippling spinal inflamation. I am being referred to a spinal specialist because my rehumatologist has no answers other than to add Methotrexate and Folic Acid to my already huge pill regimen. Hopefully the spinal doc can prevent this from happening ever again, let alone every few weeks. I swear, I have had 6 IVs of steroids since April. That is toxic, man. No thank you.

But I am back at work today, though still taking it easy on the old spinal column. Driving is a task. But I am happy to be sleeping comfortably (last night was the first in a week!) and out of bed. Bed gets boring after a week. Even GiGi wouldn’t stay in it with me. Hmpf.

Tonight, as I lay in bed after my second IV of steroids in 4 days, I got a bit randomly nostalgic and headed for my Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack. One of my all-time favorite movies that i have yet to find a soul-mate for. I admit, it’s a weird movie, explained here in these lyrics:

My sex change operation got botched; my guardian angel fell asleep on the watch; now all I got is a Barbie doll crotch; I’ve got an angry inch!

Yes. Hedwig, once a young gay man in East Berlin, got a sex change operation and got left with a useless nubbin. Now s’he searches for her soumlmate, not knowing that her “other half” is not who s’he thinks it is. It’s a beautiful tear-jerker story of self discovery that leaves me in happy tears. Hedwig believes we were once 3 great races: One made of two men, one of two women, and one of a man and a woman. Then the gods cut us in half right down the middle and sent a great storm to divide us from our other halves, and Hedwig truly believes his other half is still out there. It’s really a beautiful movie if you can handle the unbelievable weirdness of it. I first watched it in a class on the history of musicals. GREAT class.

Anyhow, I must share the lyrics that make me cry and the quotes that make me laugh: (If you read not this stuff read past to my message at the end.)

Quotes:

How did some slip of a girly boy from communist East Berlin become the internationally ignored song stylist barely standing before you?

Don’t you know me Kansas City? I’m the new Berlin Wall. Try and tear me down!

So if any of you out there are looking for the song that’s going to be your big hit, you should pay attention, because we are talking to Phil Collins’ people. But then again… aren’t we all?

Lyrics:

Midnight Radio

Here’s to Patti
And Tina
And Yoko
Aretha
And Nona
And Nico
And me
And all the strange rock and rollers
You know you’re doing all right
So hold on to each other
You gotta hold on tonight

And you’re shining
Like the brightest star
A transmission
On the midnight radio
And you’re spinning
Your new 45s
For the misfits and the losers
Yeah, you know you’re rock and rollers
Spinning to your rock and roll

Wig in a Box

I put on some make-up
Turn on the eight-track
I’m pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I’m Miss Farrah Fawcett
From TV
Until I wake up
And I turn back to myself

Wicked Little Town

and there’s no mystical desire
no cosmic lover, preassigned
there’s nothing you can find that cannot be found
cause with all the changes you’ve been through
it seems the stranger’s always you
alone again in some new wicked little town
and when you’ve got no other choice
you know you can follow my voice
through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town
it’s a wicked little town
goodbye wicked little town

That last one got me through some very lonely nights as I cried alone in my empty bed. It’s my own voice I was following. I still follow my own voice. i don’t believe in cosmic lovers, as Hedwig did, and as s’he learned, your cosmic other half is in your own self. You can’t find all the answers, all your happiness, from someone else. I once thought I could.

I found great joy with Danny but I cannot hang my entire happiness on him. I have to make my little joys on my own, too. Hedwig taught me that. Too bad I hate the name or I’d use it on a kid.

Anyhow, if you are looking for a random movie to watch one night soon, try it. You may like it. You may hate it. But I loved it.

It has been more than a week since the burn incident, and the wound has turned a bruised deep red. Its still covered a footlong portion of my leg, but it is no longer as painful. Last night at my grandfather’s house my mom and my aunt wanted to see the wound so they watched me during my cleansing and bandage changing ritual. My mom took pictures to document the damage. That’s how we are. i won’t show them here, don’t worry.

I haven’t had a real shower since it happened. I have been washing my hair in the sink and sponge bathing on the edge of the tub. Today I will try my first real shower in over a week. You don’t realize how dirty you can get even if you wash daily. Showers just blast the dirt off you better than any wimpy washcloth can.

I cannot wait for that truly clean feeling. Which form of soap and shampoo will I use? I have like 18 different kinds. (It’s a sin.) I think I may go with Philosophy’s Soap and Water head-to-toe body wash+shampoo because it smells so wonderfuly clean.

Then I will gently redress my wound and slip into my new ulta-soft, normally very expensive bathrobe that I got on a deep discount from Bath and Body Works. It’s amazing.

I think tomorrw I need to start applying Mederma to the wound so I don’t have a scar running the length of my entire thigh for the rest of my life. It’s right there in the front, no ignoring it. Good story, but uuugly.