Fruitcakes and Twilight

It’s December again, and my fruitcakeryness is in full swing. I realized this on Monday morning when I took my son to the bus stop hunched over, looking like an eighty-year-old street person. But then I realized it isn’t my fault. In fact, that my wardrobe choices are a bit misguided when it’s cold outside is simply because I live in such a temperate climate. Instead of putting on sensible, warm clothes, which I may or may not own, and if I may I don’t know where the fuck they are, I grab whatever layers are close by and run with it.

And let’s be clear: I don’t like to be cold. And in the mornings the only people I see outside of my immediate family are the bus driver and possibly my neighbor, Robert. And they can think what they want. So the fruitcakery continues, and will continue forevermore, even at this very moment in pink and blue dachshund pajamas, a grey hoodie, plaid poncho, black scarf and red, white and blue slides. 

I had to. It makes me smile.

On a different note, in my hibernation over the last few weeks, and in a weak effort to escape my melancholy, I did something that I’ve never done before: I watched all five Twilight movies in close succession. I couldn’t bribe or trick my daughters into watching them all with me, but, to their credit, they indulged me one or two, despite Kristen Stewart’s acting. All in all, though, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, parts of it were bad, but I didn’t turn it off. In fact, New Moon and Eclipse brought back painful feelings from the book that made me pretty uncomfortable. I was 100% team Jacob back in the day, and I was feeling that again. I got over it, although it was totally bothering me that post-Twilight, Kristen Stewart in effect ended her relationship with Robert Pattinson by cheating on him. That wasn’t very Bella Swan of her. Dafuq. Who does that? And in front of the Paparazzi no less. I hate to be a hater but I hate her for that.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but November marked the ten-year anniversary of “Twilight,” which is probably why all five movies were recommended on Amazon. It’s only been ten years? It seems like longer. It seems like a fucking lifetime to me.

I’ve almost shaken it. Almost. You may hear from me again soon.

J. L. Dodd 

Hopeless

I feel hopeless, ya'll.

Usually when I feel like this, there's a specific set of measures I can take to snap out of it.

Music helps. Coffee helps. Eating doesn't help but I overindulge anyway. Today it was Bag of Bones Cheetos. Seriously, I understand how people weigh three and four hundred pounds. If I didn't have genetics on my side, I might be the same way. I'm not hungry AT ALL. But I keep eating.

Going outside. Walking or even just sitting in the sun helps. But if I can't bring myself to do any of those things then I am doomed to hibernate in my house and wallow in self-pity. And one day of that isn't the end of the world, right?

Two days ago I was in Wal-Mart by myself, buying some water bottles and I had a moment. A moment when my surroundings seemed to suffocate me. I questioned the meaning of life when I realized that although I was immersed in the throng of people, I was completely alone. I wanted to drop to my knees right then and there. I didn't. That's not what adults do, no matter how shitty and overwhelmed and HOPELESS they feel.

Today, I know I'm in trouble because all I want to do is curl up in a ball and watch movies and sleep. And even Twenty-One Pilots doesn't fix me. I'm fucked. But tomorrow is a new day. I'll do my best to reset.

J. L. Dodd

Review XP Trench

So let me preface this by saying I might be completely and totally fucking biased at this point.

THIS ALBUM IS THE BEST I'VE EVER HEARD THROUGHOUT THE HISTORY OF ME.

And I don't say that lightly. I mean it. It's so epic in every way imaginable. As forever, the music is doesn't fit into any single genre other than alt. Some bands change as they age, for better or worse. Twenty-one Pilots evolves into an unstoppable force, inspiring, grounding, and unifying millions.

It's hard to choose favorites. But if I have to choose favorites:

Levitate
Morph
Pet Cheetah
Chlorine
The Hype
Cut My Lip
My Blood
Jumpsuit
Nico and the Niners
Bandito
Smithereens
Leave the City
Legend

And the heart wrenching, soulful social commentary that is "Neon Gravestones." I was so moved that I actually went to YouTube and commented alongside clique members about Tyler's intention with this song.

R.I.P. Chester all over again. 😭

(Did I really just use a crying emoji to convey my sorrow at the loss of one of my idols? I did. Someone slap me.)

I'm still on the bandwagon, people. No, fuck that. I am the Queen of this bandwagon. Listen, but don't just listen, to this album. Listen to them all. Go to a show. You can thank me later.

J. L. Dodd

Excerpt from "Pet Cheetah"

I've got a pet cheetah down in my basement

I've raised him, and bathed him, and named him Jason

Statham, I've trained him to make me these beats

Now my pet cheetah's quicker in the studio than on his feet

Imma get mine and get going

I'm showing my faces in just enough places

I'm done with tip-toeing, I'll stay in my room

My house is the one where the vultures are perched on the roof

Get behind me, I bet this nepotistic mindset

Will help us get ours as we're growing

This clique means so much to this dude

It could make him afraid of his music

And be scared to death he could lose it

Review XP The Earthsea Quartet

It took me several months to get through this book. Granted, therein lie four stories, and I think I took a break between each one. I went into this knowing nothing, a Le Guin virgin.

Overall, I should say: there's just something special about Ged. I think, as others have said, it is his flaws that make him compelling. Although he was born with great, innate power, he comes from very humble beginnings, is not omnipotent, and is generally someone we can relate to.

Le Guin gets praise for her world-building, and it is well deserved. I can't tell you how much time I spent studying the world map provided, tracing Ged's travels.

A Wizard of Earthsea is our introduction to Ged and the early story of his life. Because Ged makes mistakes early on, I was unable to predict what would happen. There was no guarantee that everything was going to be alright. Things might go horribly wrong, and it might be Ged's fault. Which is fantastic.

The Tombs of Atuan was my kind of story. A girl, chosen to be the embodiment of evil spirits and roam an underground labyrinth? And we even get a map? Yes! Sign me up.

The Farthest Shore was fantastic in every sense of the word. The journey. The dragons. The Dry Land. So, so good.

I also enjoyed Tehanu, although I accidently spoiled the ending by watching Miazaki's "Tales from Earthsea."

One note. Le Guin makes very clear the double standards by which the sexes of Earthsea are held. Men with power are sent to Roke Island to learn to be wizards, are revered and sought after. Women are called witches and are never taught to use their gifts. It's entirely shitty. I understand I'll have to keep reading the two additions to the series to feel any relief from this particular thorn in my side. And I intend to.


Goodreads: 5/5 stars

J. L. Dodd

P.S. LOL the goats. They ruin everything.

"'What is evil?' asked the younger man. The round web, with its black center, seemed to watch them both. 'A web we men weave.' Ged answered."
— The Farthest Shore

"The sun itself was hidden, but there was a glitter on the horizon, almost like the dazzle of the crystal walls of the Undertomb, a kind of joyous shimmering off on the edge of the world. 'What is that?' the girl said, and he: 'The sea.'" — The Tombs of Atuan

No you don't, Peter Straub

I was excited when I found a collection of short horror stories by Peter Straub called Houses Without Doors. This was the perfect way to take a reading break from The Earthsea Quartet, which, while beautiful, was growing tiresome. Or maybe I'm lacking the ability to focus right … wha? What was I talking about?

"Blue Rose" was riveting, and horrifying. I already said this, people: Don't let someone hypnotize you. Especially not your sick fuck of an older brother who delights in hurting you. Seems obvious, right?

"The Juniper Tree" is a different story. I had a sinking feeling as I guessed the trajectory of the plot, although I truly wasn't expecting things to go on as they did with "Jimmy." I thought, "He's going to murder him," or "Bet something supernatural will intervene." I know, I know, this is HORROR. Fine. It doesn't have to be something supernatural and good. I so would have taken Satan as an unlikely anti-hero. Damn it, Satan! Can you please claim this creep-o? Drag him to the pits of Hell? But no.

This is a very realistic, very detailed story about pedophilia, exploring the confusion and horror felt by the victim, and then, cooperation, if not acceptance. Followed by the lasting affects into adulthood. There's no rescuer. There's no retribution. No salvation. No … nothing. I feel dirty just thinking about it.

Sorry, Straub. As disgusting and revolting as this is, I do not consider this horror. This is filth. I realize this was written a number of years ago, in a different social climate, but as an adult and a parent and a human fucking being, no thank you. I'm done.

Maybe I'm overreacting. I've read a number of reviews of this book on Amazon and Goodreads, and no one seems as put off as myself. I don't care, though. I wouldn't recommend this book, at least that story, to anyone.

Goodreads: DNF

J. L. Dodd

In Dreams

I woke up this morning, unsettled because I had been dreaming about a friend who committed suicide. Not even a friend really, he was my coworker and acquaintance, and he died four or five years ago. So why now? I dreamed that I was trying to help him get a job at an animal reserve, and I was writing a letter of recommendation for him. The details are foggy already, only hours later. This particular friend's death was especially troubling because of the circumstances. He was younger than me, and took his own life immediately after his wife died on the operating table. I was sad at the time, yes, but more than that, I was deeply disturbed. That feeling stayed with me for some time.

I've said this before: death doesn't usually affect me deeply. Of the people I have lost, I have rarely shed a tear. This is true of this friend, and others. Grandparents. Co-workers. Clients. The only time I remember crying was when my cat was run over and killed when I was 21. At some point I’ve wondered if there was something wrong with me. Am I that well-adjusted? Am I that accepting? Am I incapable of grieving? I won't know until I face a true test, the death of someone in my inner circle. This is something that terrifies me.

It may be that my reaction is one of denial, or perhaps I'm unnaturally unimpressed with the idea, contrary to thousands of years of human tradition. Death? So what. It happens. Sooner or later, it happens. And we are often at its mercy. The only thing I fear for myself is what I will or will not accomplish before it claims me. 

I also recently dreamed of Suzy, my deceased doggie best friend and writing companion. Not bad dreams. But waking up from that was uncomfortable. Jarring even, because it forces home the idea that she isn't here anymore, which I endeavor not to realize most of the time. That feigned ignorance is how I deal with quite a few things in my life. I compartmentalize and refuse to acknowledge  unfortunate truths. I don't see it as denial. It's simple survival, and perhaps I'm really good at that. Yeah, I'm good at that.

Dreams, though, are a writer's paradise. Even more so in fiction. Anything can happen. A husband and wife will be reunited on the other side. And a cherished dog (or a street mutt, like in Coco) can become a spirit guide in the afterlife.

I think I owe that to Suzy.

J. L. Dodd

"As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death." 
- Leonardo da Vinci

Links

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/leonardo_da_vinci_154282?src=t_death

Nothing, really. I wouldn't even bother reading this if I were you.

(Disclaimer: Over the last two months, I've started but not finished eight blog articles, all of which I feel are important. Except for this one. It's just an uninteresting update. I would add to it, but I'm in a different place now than I was two months ago, and it seems wrong to sully my prior perspective. Not that ya'll care.)

I literally just sat here for 10 minutes and stared at a blank page. I have nothing to say. Wait, wait, no, that can't be right.



Um, so, since I sent my book off to be edited, I've been trying to be productive in the meantime. I used Canva.com to try to create an ebook cover (or at least get an idea of what I wanted). Canva is free and pretty cool if you are going for basic. I worked on my business, on my (ew) Facebook page. God how I loathe Facebook. Haven't worked much on my blog obviously. It would help if I could finish the book I'm reading. I think that's the key. I feel held prisoner by it, but I refuse to quit. The Earthsea Quartet is four beautiful stories of magic and adventure, but riveting it is not.

HFS! I just put two and two together with Miyazaki's "Tales from Earthsea" movie. That movie was kind of a blur when I watched it. Imma have to go see it again. Now.

I did make some very good progress on book two of the Luminesce series. I've got most of the plot outlined, now I just have to do the heavy lifting. Maybe today I'll get some work done.

I don't know. It's Sunday people. The best and worst day of the week. And my head already hurts and it's still morning. I have a lot I want to accomplish, and yet, I've already given up. I think I need some coffee.

Oh, btw, hypnotism is fucking scary shit. Don't do it, and don't let someone do it to you.

J. L. Dodd

HFS! A win for humanity! The Wild Boars are rescued

Thank you Universe. Thank you God. Thank you Allah. Thank you Kuraokami, deity of rain (and snow, well). Thank you Thai Navy Seals. Thank you King Maha Vajiralongkorn Bodindradebayavarangkun (Wow. Just try to pronounce that, I dare you). Thank you to the multitudes of divers and volunteers from all over the world who went to Thailand to help. Thank you to the boys and their coach for not giving up. Thank you to everyone involved.

How Rescuers Pulled Off the Impossible in a Treacherous Thai Cave

Fuck yes!!! I cried when reading this article, even hours after knowing everyone was safe.

From the NYT: “We are not sure if this is a miracle, or science, or what,” the Thai Navy SEALs posted on their Facebook page. “All the 13 Wild Boars are now out of the cave.”

I didn't think it would end like this. Not from the beginning when they were missing. Not from the middle when they were trapped. I don't think I'm much exaggerating when I say the entire world collectively held its breath after the first two children emerged, waiting for something to go wrong. But no. Everything went right!

And the moral of the story is this: Life is unpredictable. Enjoy it, and don't complain, people. In fact, don't complain about a goddamn thing. Whatever you are going through, someone else is worse off. Stop whining and have some fucking compassion.

(Okay, I'm not sure that moral exactly relates to this particular story but I'm not wrong. And so what if I need to take my own advice? I'm trying, people.)

And also, do not go in caves. Like, ever.

J. L. Dodd AKA Random Gurl AKA HM, QOB

P.S. I'm a bit ranty tonight. So what?

Source:

Paddock, Richard C. “How Rescuers Pulled Off the Impossible in a Treacherous Thai Cave.” New York Times, 10 July 2018, a.msn.com/r/2/AAzTwmN?m=en-us&referrerID=InAppShare.

RANDOM AF! The Adventures of Random Gurl on Independence Day

The fourth of July is a big deal in a small town such as mine. Activities deeply rooted in tradition fill the day, and lost relatives from all over the state and the country come into town to experience the nostalgia and drink a crap-ton of beer.

This year I watched the coaster races with my children, took in the parade, and enjoyed the fireworks after dark. It was generally a good day.

In the case of the races, "watched" may not be entirely accurate. I watched and applauded the racers with my inlaws. My children hung out on the second floor of a hotel and may have occasionally looked out the window. One of them fell asleep and the rest lounged in big, overstuffed chairs with their phones. But still. I was proud of myself for getting them out of the house, up to Old Bisbee, parked at the old high school, up a huge hill, down 100 some stairs and across the street to my uncle's hotel before the eight-o-clock start time.

An out-of-town family had rented the entire hotel for their reunion, and when I came downstairs from the second floor, they thought it was odd that someone was there who they didn't know. I assured them I was just watching the races, that I was family to the owner, and they conceded I didn't look suspicious, and that they were only trying to make sure random people weren't walking through. Seriously? It's a hotel. In a historic town. On the fourth of July. Random people are going to come in. Just because you rented every room does not give you the right to police the property, accost and harass me, a person who has every right to be there.

So I was a little miffed.

I got over it. We got to chatting with one of the family members (they were all wearing yellow shirts that read, "Bisbee Wanna-Bees"), and she gave me the nickname "Random Girl."

I'm still a little miffed. Apparently. But I got to thinking I might like this nickname. I am pretty random at times, in my writing especially, but also in general. I certainly fixate on random things, like Cthulu, space cats, orange creme popsicles, synchronicity, bunnies, shopping lists in trash cans, Spirited Away, free Circus tickets, cannibals, impermanence, frozen baby mice, President Trump (okay, not random) and more recently (and also not random), Thai soccer teams trapped in flooded caves. HFS this needs to be resolved. I've been in a constant state of anxiety since they were lost, and every morning and every night I check the news to find out what is happening. I also prayed. More than once. And I don't pray, people. But please, please God or whoever or whatever, keep it from raining in Thailand for a few more days.

I'm out.

R. Gurl

RANDOM AF! It doesn't take much to make me happy

This weekend is a prime example.

Saturday, the six of us spent most of the day together, more or less. I was content to clean and do laundry and become completely entrenched in The Staircase, a true-crime series about a man falsely convicted of his wife's murder. It was fascinating. Besides the emotional rollercoaster of the documentary, I was quite satisfied with the day. I was productive, but not too productive (that happens when I drink too much coffee). I was surrounded by my family, and even though the kids mostly ignored me (my daughter did once ask me where her phone charger was), at least we were all under the same roof. The boys played PubG. The girls played Overwatch. The dog and the husband were close by my side. It was a good day.

And today, Tyler Joseph's so-called "suicide day," I enjoyed some time outside. I wrote. I watched more TV. You may say, "That sounds boring as fuck." And I will say, "Exactly. And stop cussing. Shame on you."

I know there is a whole world outside that I have never seen. Sometimes I lament the fact that I may never get to see Machu Picchu, or visit the Isle of Sky, or go all those awesome places that appear on my laptop's screensaver. But most times, this is enough for me. My beautiful family. My home, haphazard and full of dog hair (Where does it all come from? My dog should have been bald 100x over!). My backyard, with its sad little flowers and random volunteer dill plants. My job, with co-workers I adore. My city, quirky and full of characters. My life, mundane as it is. I am so very fortunate to have this much.

I know change is coming. Change is inevitable. But my 40-year-old self has learned to appreciate what I can today. I will appreciate this very moment, and this one, and the happiness I find in each. I will deal with change as it comes.

J. L. Dodd

“To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring — these are some of the rewards of the simple life.”
― John Burroughs, Leaf and Tendril

Links:

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/simple-life

RANDOM AF! Ease off the prez

I had an epiphany. It was in the shower, of course. That's when most of my epiphanies come. It must have something to do with my phthalate-free shampoo. (Wow, that word is weird. Phthalate.)

Anywhoo, this is it: cut Trump some slack, people.

I mean, you have to feel sorry for the guy. He's in way over his head. I truly think he's trying to do a good job, but he doesn't know how. Being the president isn't easy, not for the most intelligent, educated, and experienced of people, and Trump is none of those things. So he just keeps fucking up, and by now, he's pissed off most of the world (there may be some indigenous tribes in Paupa New Guinea that he hasn't pissed off yet). This latest issue with separating undocumented immigrants from their children is the fuck-up of all fuck-ups.

Trump was great at reality TV. His personality is ideal for creating drama. The producers of The Apprentice probably didn't even have to manufacture any of the strife and discontent on that show. But those "talents" don't translate well to the presidency, as we've all been witness to in the last year and a half.

Don't you think there've been multiple times that he's thought, "Hey, this has gone too far. I want out?" No doubt. Although I'm sure every POTUS has had that exact same thought at one point or another. I cannot fathom how disheartening it is to have every single thing you do or say scrutinized by the whole nation. Trump's life, as well as that of his family, is basically a trial by fire, 24/7. You mean people actually sign up for this shit? If they weren't batshit to start, I bet they are on the other side. I bet every former president is secretly in therapy.

And Trump faces unique challenges, I think. First of all, Twitter. Also, he's too stubborn to listen to advice from those around him. Also, and this may be the heart of it, he's such a flaming narcissist that he can't ever admit when he's wrong, and places blame on everything and everyone else. AND HE GETS AWAY WITH IT. Well, kinda. How many lies has he told? CNN says over 3,000 since taking office. But you know, CNN, that's fake news. Of course. I'm glad that someone is keeping track, but still, have there been any consequences? None that I know of. And that being the case, it's unlikely he'll ever change his ways. This dog is too old to learn new tricks. For that, he should be pitied.

We are all fallible. The older I get, the more I realize that I'm human. I make mistakes. Sometimes it's hard to accept, and harder yet to admit. But I am well aware of my own capacity to be in the wrong. In fact, I'm starting to first assume I'm wrong before I jump to conclusions. I've jumped, and oft continue to jump in the wrong direction. And even with a million shades of gray between black and white, I still manage to be wrong often.

But the important thing is that I recognize my limitations. With 40 years of experience, I'm no expert on life, and now I understand I may never be. I'm still learning. I'm still adapting. I am working to accept things I couldn't before. Recently, for example, I'm working to reconcile my will with the will of my children. I can yet try to control their actions, but I can't control what they think, nor make them listen. Trust me, having four teenagers, you realize in full the harsh conundrum of parenthood.

We can't control Trump either. But this isn't entirely his fault. It is what it is. Trump is who he is.

Seriously, as a nation, let's show him some compassion. Ease up on the criticism, and maybe he'll react differently. And if not, let's just hope he doesn't start a world war before we have the chance to not re-elect him. I honestly think he would appreciate the out. You know he'll spin it this way or that. His personality demands it. Conspiracy. Voter fraud. Evil Democrats. Obama had a hand in it, or Mueller, or Comey, or crooked Hillary. But secretly, he'll be relieved.

J. L. Dodd

Links:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/05/01/politics/donald-trump-3000/index.html

RANDOM AF! Eazy-E & Suggestive Foot

Yesterday I listened to a CD I once owned: "It's On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa" by Eazy-E. Usually, when I listen to music I loved when I was a teenager, I feel heart-warming nostalgia and/or childish excitement. This time, those feelings only lasted about 30 seconds before I wondered, What the fuck was wrong with me in 1993? And why did my mom let me listen to that shit? I remember blasting it on my stereo in my room, so surely she and all my younger siblings could hear all the mutherfuck this and thats. Shortly thereafter, I moved on to U2 and Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails. Seems a strange progression, but maybe that's just high school. Perhaps if I can find my way from Eazy-E to U2 to, these days, Beck and The Lumineers, there's hope for the human race. See? I'm a mutherfuckin' optimist.

See that, Mom? Parental advisory.

I listened all the way through the album, but as my son would say, it was cringy AF. And I realized that no matter what my kids are listening to, it couldn't be worse than Eazy-E. Jesus. Hear that, my darling offspring? You get a pass. I'm no hypocrite. Today, anyway.

In other news, my manuscript is off to a kick-ass freelance editor. I feel like six years of weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and the difference in my demeanor has been noticeable. I'm so fucking happy. And it's really heating up here in AZ, which means the afternoons are brutal but the mornings and evenings are beautiful. I'm on an Inuyasha kick. And while I'm at it, I'm on a Bleach kick as well. These were my two favorite anime of all time. And I'm still refusing to watch the news. So things are just great all around.

Oh, BTW, feet can be suggestive. And my husband thinks "Suggestive Foot" is the perfect name for a band.

J. L. Dodd

Hey yo doctor, here's another proper crack
And it's phat, watch the sniper, time to pay the piper
And let that real shit provoke, so you's a wanna be 'loc
And you'll get smoked and i hope that yer fans understand
When ya talk about playin me, the same records that ya
Makin' is payin me

Motherfuck dre

Motherfuck snoop

Motherfuck death row

Yo, and here comes me left blow
'cuz i'm the e-a-z-y-e, and this is the season
To let the real motherfuckin g's in, ya like a kid ya
Found a pup and now yer dapper, but tell me where the
Fuck ya found an anorexic rapper
Talkin 'bout who ya go squabble with and who ya shoot
You're only 60 pounds when yer wet and wearin boots
Damn e, they tried to fade you on dre day
But dre day only met eazy's pay day
All of a sudden dr dre is a g thang, but on his
Old album cover he was a she thang
So nigga please, nigga please don't step to deez
Motherfuckin' real g's

Excerpt from "Real Muthaphuckkin G's" by Eazy-E

Links

http://www.metrolyrics.com/real-muthaphuckkin-gs-lyrics-eazy-e.html

RIP Suzy-soo-soo

I've been writing Luminesce for the last six years, and I do not exaggerate when I say that any and every time I was writing, whether in a notebook or on my laptop, my silky terrier Suzy parked herself next to me. She was my constant companion when I was at home, and she slept in our bed for years before my husband developed an allergy to dog hair.

Suzy's age was undetermined, but we'd had her since 2007 when my sister-in-law's friend was moving and couldn't take her. (Little did we know, she was already pregnant with a chow chow's puppies.) So she was at least 13 when she passed away a week ago. She'd started having seizures last November, and even with medication, they improved only slightly, so I knew even then she was not long for this world.

I wanted to publish Luminesce before she was lost to us, but last Saturday, I realized something was terribly wrong when she couldn't eat her favorite canned food. She then grew disorientated, lost her balance, and eventually couldn't walk or raise her head. On Sunday evening, she passed away, but not before we were all able to say our goodbyes.

We took her down to my parents' the following morning, and when we arrived, I was surprised to see my dad digging her grave with a backhoe (he collects such things). My son helped me lower her into the hole and we said goodbye to her with yellow roses.

RIP my sweet little doggie. We miss you. I don't believe in "heaven" but I do believe there's some kind of existence after this life. Whatever it is, I hope you're happy and at peace and bossing all the other dogs around as you did here at home.

J. L. Dodd

“Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace.”
― Milan Kundera

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”
― Will Rogers

Links:

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/dogs

Review XP A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Wow, do I have mixed feelings about this book.

 I was ready to quit about halfway through. The writing was atrocious, but I blame the editor or lack thereof. There must have been an editor, right? I bought this book at fucking Target. Really, creative license can only excuse so much. The similes and metaphors she used drove me bonkers. "A shiver spider-walked down my spine." So what? You might say. No, it wasn't that bad by itself, but they just kept coming. "A brush of ice slithered across my nape." And, just, word choice. Terror isn't "unabashed." You don't "peel back" from someone (unless you're literally stuck to them). These kinds of things. Little things, but they irk the shit out of me.

 The plot crept along like a legless zombie. No complaints about insta-love here people! With assurances from Sistertard it would get better, I tried my best to overlook the smirking and beholding and kept reading. The second half of the story was fast-paced, full of action and intrigue and interesting new characters. I'm not entirely sure I liked Feyre, although she surprised me again and again with her brutality and vulgarity. Tamlin? He was dull. As much fun as a rock. No, that's an insult to rocks. I prefer Lucien over him. Rhysand? Yes. Yes. Yes. Although I can already see how Maas is going to tease us with Rhysand and Feyre's relationship, even though there's no doubt she'll end up with Tamlin, who she lurves.

 All my whining complete, I should say I was impressed with Maas' imagination and her ability to wrap up all those annoying plot holes and weave together an ending that made sense of all the madness.

 What I enjoyed most of all was my inability to predict what would happen next. It's very rare that I read drivel and don't have a pretty good sense of how things will end up. I can't say I've read any lately that end with the heroine murdering innocents. Way to go, Feyre!

 I'll keep reading this series, but it's not a priority.

 Goodreads 3/5 stars

 J. L. Dodd

Review XP The Dragon Reborn By Robert Jordan

Sorry, Tyler. You are wrong.

Pardon my spoilers.

So again, 💙 reading. It's getting harder because there are so many things that Jordan does in his writing that irk me.

The character and worldbuilding in this installment allowed me to overlook the endless descriptions, unnecessary dialogue, annoying characters like Faile/Zarine, and convenient plot devices (ter'angreal much?). We didn't get to follow Rand as much, and that was okay, but I'm used to being inside his head. And as much as the changes in POV work, in another sense, as a reader, I'm used to sticking with a character. I found myself putting the book down when the POV changed.

I'm completely caught up in Nyneve, Egwene and Elayne's quest to find and defeat the Black Ajah. I fucking hate those bitches. I hope they all die.

The presence of the Aiel in this book really adds to the story, as they are oh so mysterious. On the other hand, what's the deal with this sword I never heard of?

Nope. Not impressed with this cover.

I wanted Mat (or Perrin! or Nyneve!) to do something amazing in Tear, but I was disappointed. All Mat did was open a cell door. Perrin didn't even make it into the Stone. And Nyneve only managed to get one punch in (although it was spectacular). I mean, don't get me wrong, it shows Mat's development that he followed the girls to Tear to begin with, and the growth of secondary characters is what this book is all about, but I still felt a bit let down in general with that ending. It could have been a hell of a lot better.

These fights with Ba'alzamon are getting old. You know Rand isn't going to die. I wish the Dark One would just kill someone already. Then there might be some risk in these conflicts.

So much for a review. This is literally just comments. On to book four!

Goodreads 4/5 stars 💔

J. L. Dodd

Review XP The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

(Forgive me for scolding the author as if he hasn't passed away. I just can't help it. And who knows, maybe he's reading this, wherever he is.)

How exactly can that be Loial?

I tried and tried and eventually failed to hold off starting book three until I could write a review on book two, which should tell you something. I didn't want to do the same thing I did with The Dark Tower books (put off any written review until I finished the series and then realize it was too hard to write a review on all seven books). The Great Hunt was so engrossing that I didn't even want to pause after reading a 700+ page book before grabbing the next. And I'm looking at books four and five sitting on my table so I'm really in for it. If August rolls around and you haven't heard from me, I may need an intervention.

I've come to realize the author's skill lies in his storytelling and ability to switch POVs, not so much in his writing skill. So there were some very cringy moments. The boys from Two Rivers' approach to the opposite sex continues to be so ignorant it's unrealistic. (You just had to do it, Jordan. Page 113: "Perrin cleared his throat. Half the time he did not understand what women meant when they said things. Not like Rand. He always knew what to say to girls.") I also heard at least four times how you could see right through the garments of Lord Turak's maidservants. I get it already! OMG they're practically naked! A few times I was unimpressed with his word choice (Apartments?) and of course we got to hear about the Pattern and the Wheel and the threads and ta'veren over and over and over.

I'm not sure how I feel about the whole Lan/Moiraine/Nyneave triangle. And again, as in book one, there is very little development we are aware of, and yet on the one occasion when Lan does speak to Nyneave, it leaves your knees weak. I wish we could get some Lan POV on this issue.

All that being said, I very much enjoyed it. The plot was exciting and came together at the end. All the characters grew on me, even Mat. I was horrified at what happened to Egwene. The Seanchan are no fucking joke.

No doubt I am reading with my heart from here on out. RWMH? Heart reading, well.💗

I had a "discussion" that was more like a disagreement with my brother about the original cover art for this series vs. the updated, electronic covers. Yes, the old covers are cheesy as hell. Yes, they show the series' age not to mention, fuck with my mental image of these characters. (Note to self: do not include images of my characters on my book's cover.) Even so, they are original, therefore, RESPECT. Right? Or maybe I'm just getting old myself (I am) and find a parallel between these outdated covers and the gray hair that keeps appearing (It's hereditary, people!). I'll allow that it's possible. Damn it, Tyler. RESPECT.

J. L. Dodd

RANDOM! Beck & Childish Gambino

Some might say I'm good at multitasking. I think I have a special form of ADD combined with early-onset Alsheimer's. It hits close enough to home that it isn't funny. But ... on the bright side of ADD and Alsheimer's, perhaps I could be the heroine in another one of those animes where a person's weakness becomes their greatest strength. I'll have to figure out how that could work.

Anywho, to continue my almost completely off-topic ramblings:

In the last few weeks, I've been listening to Childish Gambino and Beck's newest album, Colors. Either or and nothing else, dependent on mood of course.

I had the pleasure of seeing Beck in concert last year when he opened for U2. Although I was unfamiliar with most of his new music, I enjoyed his performance. Even my 17-year-old son was impressed with "Wow." I forgot that Beck can rap, after a fashion. So when I ran across "Fix Me" on YouTube and loved the song/video, I went looking for Colors. And I've been listening ever since.

In the case of Childish Gambino, I'd heard "Redbone" on the local radio. Later, the kids were listening to "3005" and were kind enough to clue me in, and although I was aware whatshisname from Community had started making music, I wasn't especially interested. My loss, until now.

Yes, there is much rapping. And I like rapping. As I become more familiar with Donald Glover's (I looked it up) body of work which includes three albums, I like more and more. But I think he particularly shines on tracks where he sings, and after a sampling of his music, my favorite song to date is "Sober."

An added plus is that my kids think I'm so cringy when I listen to him. There's a gleeful satisfaction in making them uncomfortable that only parents of teenagers can understand.

If you have the same seemingly random, genre-hopping, obsessive love of music as me, enjoy. If not, as one of my favorite co-workers likes to say, who cares? (I prefer who the fuck, but that's just me.)

J. L. Dodd

P.S. Sigh. I'm just not feeling it people. When my life becomes so busy that I'm forced to take a creative hiatus, I'm not feeling it.

Review XP Dead Ever After by Charlaine Harris

Disclaimer: This series is very much a guilty pleasure for me, though I will not apologize.

***MAJOR spoilers follow***

It wasn't so much the choice Sookie made. I was tired of Eric and his selfish shenanigans too. I was ready to move on. In fact, Sookie's willingness to move on from Bill was one of the things I especially liked about this series.

However, the execution of the change in her relationship with Sam was some of the worst writing I've seen in years. Certainly the worse writing I've seen by a published author. Ms. Harris really didn't give a shit about this book, did she?

And Sookie never expressed any opinion herself. Yes, we know that she used the cluviel dor to bring Sam back to life, but in this book it goes from "Oh, Sam's acting weird," to "Sam likes me?" to "I guess I'll have sex with him," and then "We are taking it slow." There was no chemistry between them whatsoever. She might as well have decided to get with Jason because it felt the same. And other reviewers are spot on about the awkwardness of the sex scene. There was nothing redeeming in their relationship, and what really hurts is it had great potential. It should have, could have been amazing, but it was horrible.

To add to that, the plot was confusing. Just how many fucking different people were trying to kill her? A medium one, a tall one, a fat one, a black one, plus Arlene, plus Horst, plus Claude, plus a devil. Wait, was Claude the devil? Not, right? What happened to the devil? The writing was flippant and adverbs abound. Tons of telling, not showing. And seriously, I do not need to hear about Sookie's shaved legs or her outfits or her cleaning house or cooking or even her gardening. It's been a number of years since I read the first 11 books, but I don't remember it being that bad. Or were they?

Good news is, I realized something. I could have written this better. Yay, motivation.

Goodreads rating: 1/5 stars

J. L. Dodd

“No matter what happens in public—no matter what—don’t doubt that I love you and care about your welfare . . . as much as I am able.” - Eric in Dead Ever After

“If weeds could flourish with such vigor, may I could, too.” - Sookie in Dead Ever After

Links:

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/17328606-dead-ever-after

Review XP Dune by Frank Herbert

When I decided to read Dune by Frank Herbert, I didn't realize it was, in fact, a series. Good for me, because despite the slowness, the stilted dialogue and robotic characters (with the exception of Alia), I want to read more.

Being that this book was first published in 1965, I thought I might have a hard time. I knew the book was considered revolutionary for its contribution to modern science fiction. I knew that it was compared to Tolkien (it seems everyone is compared to Tolkien), and that was about all I knew. I'd seen the movie when I was younger, but remembered very little of it other than the vision of the worms and Paul's impossibly blue eyes.

I was intrigued by the idea of the "race consciousness" that invades Paul, giving him his prescience and visions of the future. It aligns with Carl Jung's collective unconscious, especially in its aspect as a historical trove of knowledge. Just think if you and I could tap into that! We wouldn't have to start out as idiots, and spend our lives learning.

The world-building was excellent. I was transported to Arrakis and felt at home among the Fremen (I, too, live in the desert, though not as harsh, and unfortunately, void of sandworms). The political machinations were straight-forward and provided a plot-propelling force of conflict. The characters fell a little flat for me, and the relationship between Jessica and Paul didn't come across as genuine.

One thing that really bothered me was the passage of time. I recognize that time jumps were necessary to the plot, however the execution of those jumps had me fumbling to figure out what had happened. From the ceremony and subsequent orgy where Jessica is confirmed as the new Reverend Mother, two years pass in a few pages. Paul and Chani have a son during this time. Alia is born. Many changes occur on Arrakis leading toward the final showdown between the Baron and Paul (and the Emporer and the Emporer-na). I would have liked to see more transitory statements or blatant backstory, rather than just dropping us two years into the future like nothing. Perhaps the author had written some of this and decided to cut it out. Who knows. All I can say it was a huge disconnect from the narrative, and as a reader it was difficult to continue. But continue I did (I'm usually no quitter).

And I'm very glad I did. The last hundred or so pages I could not put the book down; in fact, I read for two hours straight until it was finished. I needed to know what would happen to Paul. If he would have his revenge or end up dead. I even missed my bedtime on a school night to find out.

Goodreads rating: 3/5 stars

J. L. Dodd

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
― Paul Atrides, Dune

"Without change something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.”
― Duke Leto Atrides, Dune

"Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.”
― Princess Irulan, Dune

Links

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3634639-dune

RANDOM AF! The FFF

New books always shed new light on my life, whether changing my perspective, my behavior or most often, expanding my vocabulary. I'm currently reading Dune, and I can't help but draw parallels between my life and the Fremen of Arrakis. While donning my gray plaid poncho over pajamas in addition to a scarf, hat, blanket, and slippers, I decided I will call myself a modern-day Fremen. You know, one that can't fight or ride sand worms but instead hibernates in the desert in 40-degree weather whining, writing, reading, watching Netflix and eating, not spice, but tortillas.

So not really, but my mind went there. And thus, the FFF was born. The Future Fremen Fruitcakes.

You may not understand my obsession with fruitcakes. You don't need to. But if you insist, see here:

Fruitcake backstory

I must admit my fruitcakedness has been lacking of late. My friends and family have figured out how much I love the non-color gray (I really prefer gray to grey, don't ask me why). I can go full winter fruitcake without the intrusion of much color these days, instead having gray layer upon gray layer, with some black or white thrown in for variety. The truth is, in spite of the different patterns (plaid, roses, marled, snowflakes, solids) it often almost matches (the horror!).

Why Future? Because you can't be considered Full Fremen until you ride a maker. An old man of the desert. And there aren't any makers around here that I know of. I'll be searching for a suitable substitution, but in the meantime, me and my FFF Followers (FFFF) may be SOL.

That reminds me. I stumbled across a fellow lover of acronyms on Goodreads, but she takes the art to a new level. I don't know that I share her book preferences, but I like that she's pretty strange. And smart. And funny. See for yourself.

Sarah (former Nefarious Breeder of Murderous Crustaceans)

Enough nonsense for now. Not to worry, though. My nonsense is like Old Faithful. It will keep building until it spews out Hot Ridiculous Steam Drivel (HRSD).

J. L. Dodd

No, I will not change my 5-star Twilight rating!

And the reason is, despite everything that Twilight has mutated into through its fame and popularity and, sadly, come to symbolize (rabid fans, angsty love triangles, and poor acting), and as much as it pains me to say so (it sooo pains me), I owe a lot to Stephanie Meyer.

I suppose everyone has skeletons in their closet they'd rather not be known. This is mine: I loved the Twilight books. And though I don't use it as a conversation starter, I will readily admit it if the topic arises. If you've only seen the movies, don't judge me. Hell, don't fucking judge me regardless. To each her own. Live and let live, people.

It's difficile to pinpoint exactly when my obsession with this series of books began, but it had to be between 2008 when Breaking Dawn was published and 2010 when the first movie debuted. I can't imagine it now, but at the time, I had distanced myself from reading fiction. I was an avid reader in high school but once I graduated, I was busy with college and eventually, children. To my recollection, Twilight was the first book I picked up in 13 years. The book belonged to my cousin Stephanie and came highly recommended from both my sisters. So, I dove in and I LOVED it. I raced through Twilight, Eclipse, New Moon, and Breaking Dawn with a fervor usually reserved for cheese curds, pizza and/or beer on a Friday night and when I finished, I read them again for good measure.

Then the movies came out, fangirls overran theatres and ransacked Hot Topic stores, and all that ridiculous hoopla pretty much ruined everything. (I can't complain about the casting. Robert was the perfect Edward, Taylor the perfect Jacob. Even though she was horrible, Kristen looked the perfect Bella.) But I had to take my Twilight fandom and hide it in the closet with the other skeletons (skull baby).

Seriously. You do you, Blade.

I eventually got over my obsession but I kept reading (I also read The Host by Meyer which was great but also turned into a terrible movie). Not long after, I got my first Kindle and was introduced to the world of self-published books. Not long after that, I decided to start writing myself. So I must thank Mrs. Meyer because if she hadn't written the Twilight series, I never would have become the creatively-frustrated paranoid guilt-ridden xenophobe I am today. Thanks so much.

I do not know why this is so funny. But it is.

I'm sure if I went back and reread the books now I would be appalled and horrified. But back in 2008, I wasn't reading critically, I was reading with my heart. So, yes, fellow citizens of Goodreads and/or the universe. Twilight gets five stars. I won't apologize.

J. L. Dodd

"I actually wasn't much of a book reader at all before the 'Twilight' series. They just draw you in, and people love them. They're terrific books." - Taylor Lautner

Sure Taylor. Whatevs.

"People like to make fun of the fans who camp out but people have renaissance fairs; people do Civil War re-enactments; people do what they like. I'm tired of hearing people rage on the fans. If you don't like 'Twilight,' don't buy a ticket." - Anna Kendrick

"I think any girl would throw me under a bus to be within five feet of Robert Pattinson. I actually think he's an attractive guy. And I watched most of 'Twilight,' and I think he was really intriguing." -  Paul Wesley

"I like the 'Twilight' series. That was fun." - Mitt Romney

Links:

https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/twilight

Review XP Oh My Ghost!

Yes. This is so the perfect Korean drama if you are into that kind of thing, which I am.

You never know what you are getting when you watch foreign TV shows. I've seen my share of drawn-out drama and fucked-up endings, trust me. But this one was just perfect and well worth the time I spent watching all 15 hour-long episodes. And the ending I could almost compare to a Brandon Sanderson series (but that would be blasphemy!) because each character and subplot was wrapped up perfectly like a happy little gift.

So the gist is this: Bong-sun is an aspiring chef who works in a restaurant with the famous Chef Kang and four other hilarious men. She is shy, unsure of herself and apologizes constantly. Also, she can see ghosts. Soon-ae is a vengeful ghost who remains on Earth to resolve her grudge of being a virgin at her death. So she possesses women and attempts to seduce men, but is unsuccessful up until she meets Bong-sun. It really had everything: offbeat humor, believable romance, supernatural plot twists, heart-wrenching moments, and a villain you can root for.

Spoiler alert!

I gasped when Soon-ae pushed Bong-sun away from Chef.

I cheered when Soon-ae's brother punched Chef.

I cried my eyes out when she turned her dad back from the light at the end of the tunnel.

And it made me so very happy when it turned out that Officer Choi lost his memory.

[Insert snarky closing comment here.] Or not. Peace!

J. L. Dodd


Quotes from "Oh My Ghost!"

"Even if I'm a ghost, how can I just stand and watch?" - Shin Soon Ae

"You'll protect me? You're the most dangerous person." - Kang Sun Woo

"You looked like you were in danger, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff. It didn't feel like it was happening to a stranger. I've had several moments like that in my own life." - Officer Choi

"Don't go and get hurt on your own ... like an idiot." - Seo Joon

Links:

http://www.koreandrama.org/oh-my-ghost/

https://www.wattpad.com/206099260-korean-dramas-quotes-oh-my-ghost-2015

RANDOM AF! Good Morning Call ... Netflix Binge ... Sychronicity

I finished watching "Good Morning Call" yesterday. Although the ending was satisfactory, this show really irked me. I am so tired of the trope common in YA but more so in manga where the female protagonist falls for the unattainable jerk and ignores all the great love interests around her. As Natsume says in the show (though this "quote" is a paraphrase), and I totally agree, "It's fine to love someone, but wouldn't you be better off with someone who loves you?"

I suppose this follows with the popular tsundere character in Japanese culture, which makes sense and I'm okay with when there aren't alternatives available. Which is why they do it: to drive us viewers bonkers with frustration and keep us watching. But this kind of shit represents to me an elementary school concept of romance. Grow up already. If a woman falls for someone who treats her like shit, (and I'm not saying it doesn't happen) then there is some kind of fundamental, psychological problem there. In short, daddy issues shouldn't be the crux of an ideal love story. Not only is it insulting to watch and endure as a woman, but it's just plain stupid and unrealistic. I swear I will never succumb to this trope in my writing, as uncomfortable as it may be at times for my readers.

Apologies. I seem to be revisiting topics that are related but only just. Bear with me here as I follow this train of thought.

My recent Netflix binges (and the fact that "Netflix binge" is a common, well-known term in this day and age) leads me back to a topic I've written about before as I struggle to explain my own actions (to myself).

See my blog from 2017 YA Fairy Tales

Why do we read? Why do we binge on Netflix? What is the appeal? Yes, we do it to escape from reality to experience something we may or may not ever be able to experience in life. But in addition, the stories we immerse ourselves in usually provide an undercurrent of reliability. We have expectations, especially within a given genre. The script is carefully controlled. Although there may be plot twists and turns, generally, we know or can guess the ending. However, my question is, if we break with tropes, tradition, and a reader/viewer's expectations, can we be successful? Or will the end result be terrible? I may need to test this theory to find out.

So synchronicity.

I randomly selected a show to watch on Netflix called "Myths and Monsters." The creepy English dude narrating from his library nearly turned me off, but when he brought up a book called A Hero with a Thousand Faces, I became interested. I had purchased the book last year after becoming interested in the history of the hero in fiction. I started to read it, but haven't finished (as is my custom with non-fiction), but I learned more from the show about Campbell's theories than I had so far in the book.

The very next day, I came across a quote in Watership Down from that very same book:

"On his dreadful journey, after the shaman had wandered through dark forests and over great ranges of mountains ... he reaches an opening in the ground. The most difficult stage of his adventure now begins. The depths of the underworld now open before him. - Uno Harva, quoted by James Campbell"

Hmmm. Am I quoting a quote within a quote within a quote? I think I am.

Wait. What is Uno Harva? Is that an ancient text or something?

A quick search reveals he is a who, not a what, and was a Finnish theologian. More rabbit holes.

A strange coincidence, at the very least. Is this the collective unconscious? I know Campbell was influenced by Jung, so he may say so. Is this Frith, pointing me in the right direction? Either way, I'm going to dive into that damn non-fiction and see what I can dig up.

J. L. Dodd

Links:

https://fi.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uno_Harva

Review XP Watership Down

This book was published BJ, meaning Before Jessie, in 1972.

I picked it up because it was within reach (on the bookcase) and because it's one of my sister's favorite books. I clearly remember her carrying around an old, battered copy when we still lived at home together, and then later, when she was well into her 20's, if memory serves. She's one of those strange bibliophiles who likes to read books over and over. (BTW Sister, I don't get it. If you know the plot, the conflict and resolution, just what is the point? Especially when there are so many books in the world?) In fairness, I don't know if she still does this. I'll have to ask her.

I ... don't know what I expected. I didn't know what to expect, and that was part of the draw. The book details the secret lives of rabbits, in particular, two brothers named Hazel and Fiver, and their decision to leave the warren they've known all their lives based on Fiver's sixth sense. After coming upon a sign that men put up near their home, Fiver becomes convinced the rabbits are in danger and must leave. But leaving home is no small thing for a rabbit. They are in constant danger without a burrow to hide in, and at risk of exhaustion and tharn, a state in which they are frozen with fear. Along the way, they encounter various incarnations of The Thousand (for rabbits are said to have 1,000 predators), a group of alien rabbits who don't silfay (nibble grass) and who sing and recite poetry, and a warren of militaristic rabbits who run their group like a concentration camp.

Though slow at times, the book was entertaining, and I grew engrossed with the conflict during the last 100 pages or so. I also fancied the idea of rabbit religion, myths, and proverbs. The stories within the stories gave the books depth that I found authentic. I think I expected much more death, which was both a relief and a disappointment, perhaps because although I prefer a happy ending, the fact that all the main characters survived seemed unrealistic. The only thing that grew especially tiresome was the author's descriptions of the foliage, which, since I am no rabbit nor botanist, I was not especially interested in.

The best part is that I found myself picking up the rabbit's language, even though I had no idea how to pronounce some of it. For instance, yesterday I told my husband, "Why are there so many hrududu (vehicles) on the road today?" (Then I spent half an hour practicing pronouncing the word. Try it; it's fun.) And then I yelled at the dogs, "Get in here you damned elil (enemies)!" I'll use hrair, which means more than four (because rabbits can only count to four). And Frith is the sun, personified as God. Now I can say Frithdamnit and not offend my mother.

I marked two quotes in this book:

"'There's great evil in this world.' 'It comes from men,' said Holly. 'All other elil do what they have to do and Frith moves them as he moves us. They live on the earth and they need food. Men will never rest till they've spoiled the earth and destroyed the animals.'" - Pg. 163

"Strawberry tried all he could to help me. He spoke very well about the decency and comradeship natural to animals. 'Animals don't behave like men,' he said. 'If they have to fight, they fight. If they have to kill, they kill. But they don't sit down and set their wits to work to devise ways of spoiling other creatures' lives and hurting them. They have dignity and animality." Pg. 249

I think the author would rather be a rabbit himself. He doesn't think much of men, and I have to agree. Why can't we behave with dignity and animality?

J. L. Dodd

P.S. I had a moment of synchronicity while I was reading this book. I'll need to discuss that later on. I'm not sure if it's done with me.

Goodbye 2017

What do I want to say about the passage of 2017?

It wasn't an easy year. Most of my struggles were internal. Most but not all of my discord self-actualized. Some external. A few events stand out. Some good. Some bad. Why should I complain? I feel like my life is infinitely better than some. Then again, how can I know that? I can't literally walk in someone else's shoes. I can't get in another person's head. I don't believe all the imagination in the world can't give you an iota of another person's reality because we lack that person's perspective, which colors every experience. And that perspective can work both ways.

For instance, according to a Netflix documentary I watched, a resident of Myanmar is happy if they go to bed with a full belly. If I'm being real, and I am, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to make me happy. There is no basis for comparison. No way to judge or measure happiness. But if I had to guess, I'd say the people on the streets of Myanmar are happier than I on any given day, provided that one simple need is met.

And although I believe each person has infinite potential, I've also seen that what we can grow accustomed to is surprising, and horrible. Our capacity for degradation, for depression and self-pity, for filth and cruelty also has infinite potential. Think Trail of Tears. Think Holocaust. More recently, think Las Vegas. Everything is relative, each perspective unique, and when something becomes normal, it just is.

I did come to realize one thing I found significant this year. That each and every person has a sugoi story to tell if we only will listen (I've been watching too many Japanese sitcoms, apologies.). But seriously, just listen. Give another person that attention, whether it's your significant other, your child, your coworker, or a complete stranger.

I ran across this pin a few days ago.

I would expand that to explain what most of us do, which is make it neither better nor worse. I realized that sometimes at work I don't even look clients in the eye when I help them. Most of the time, in fact. Which indicates that, as a whole, my interactions on any given day are largely meaningless. No more. After all, in some ways, we are all the same, aren't we? We all want to belong, to succeed, to love. We all struggle to find enlightenment and meaning in a cruel world. We've all experienced disappointment, failure, and loss. Finding a common thread with another person is not a difficult thing.

These days, I see much irony in being self-aware, in being the most advanced species on the planet. What I would give some days to be a dog, or a cat, or a bird (or a bunny named Hazel-rah). To not have to think about anything but survival.

I won't say good riddance to 2017, because all time is precious. All existence precious. But 2017, I won't remember you fondly either.

J. L. Dodd