Thursday, December 17, 2009
If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.
And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun. - Forbidding Mourning
This is a roundabout and highly tool-ish way of saying, “So, yeah, I've been gone. Suck it.” Did you laugh at “and grows erect, as that comes home”? Because I always do.
But this post isn't about John Donne. Oh, no. It's about another poet. BILLY SHAKES. Yes, him. Earlier this fall, I ventured to Stratford, Ontario to see Macbeth with a friend. We drove four hours through Canada for this because we are nerds. Way back when, I promised pictures. I am here to make good!
First of all, there was some driving. Here was our path:
Detroit to Stratford.
I did all the driving because I am fabulous. I also look fabulous doing it.
At the border, we exchanged out American dollars for cold, hard, Canadian cash. And then I licked it. It tasted like maple syrup and freedom.
We came upon a lovely, lonely church along the way. It appealed to my inner Catholic child, and we stopped to take pictures.
After about 3.5 hours, we arrived in Stratford, at the Festival Theatre. Fun history fact: It's the first thrust stage of its kind since the original Globe. This place is serious business.
We at lunch and wandered:
Playing on a bridge.
This is a good shot demonstrating how lovely the area is in early Fall. Very Michigan-like, which put my wily Wolverine heart at ease.
Climbing a tree.
Here's the front of the Festival Theatre. Yes, that's him.
And so I took a quothing picture.
No photos allowed inside the theatre, so no piccies for you! It was an awesome production that made use of plasma screen televisions that changed as the scenes changed.
After the play, I got a picture with an arbor. Arbors are important in Renaissance drama. In The Spanish Tragedy, someone woos and is killed upon the very same arbor! Not this one.
At this point, we ate, wandered, and drove back to Detroit. Woo.
Links For Your Perusal
Stratford, Ontario's Site
The Shakespeare Festival
The Festival Theatre
(Stratford shows non-Shakespearean plays as well from many eras, so if that's not your cup of tea, look about!)
Monday, October 12, 2009
I have been deep in the academic pit of despair, and so updates have been stalled. But there will be a Steampunk Part 2 post, and as I am traveling to Stratford, Ontario Saturday to see Macbeth, there will likely be pictures and tales told relating to that.
In the meantime, have some One Minute Hamlet:
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The sad fact is, I am an avowed Steampunk, and there is no curing me. Because it has been asked of me, and because I can, this post is devoted to the subject – and more specifically why it's so fuckin' awesome, and how you can try it out yourself.
I've already mentioned in a previous post what Steampunk is. Succinctly, it is a sensibility, fashion trend, art form, and sub culture that attempts to emulate and celebrate the Victorian era, while allowing for a great deal of science fiction and fantasy to permeate. That was wordy. It's really a bunch of hot people dressing anachronistically, building fun and fascinating machinery and weaponry, writing great stories and essays, and enjoying tea and crumpets all the while. I'm still not doing well at explaining this, so there will be links to follow.
The movement is meant to be fun – we don't actually think it's 1889, although that would be neato. Most steampunks dress rather normally on a day-to-day basis. But many things carry over from the past that apply well to us on a daily basis. The best, and my favorite aspect of Steampunk, is the green aspect. This may shock you, but people did not always throw pounds and pounds of crapola into the dumpster on a weekly basis. And when people threw stuff away into their middens, other (less fortunate) people came by and picked through it. In short, there was a lot less waste. Mothers did not throw away clothes – they cut them up for new items, or handed them down to siblings or cousins. There were no paper tissues, as we know, just those fabulous hankies – there was very little paper anything, as a matter of fact. Newspapers were reused in the outhouse or spanking new water closet. Both sides of foolscap were used. Et cetera.
I'm not suggesting we wipe our asses with the Times. Papercuts. It's the idea of less waste that is appealing, not the manner is which is was achieved. Some of these methods were not even a choice – no one was thinking of global warming when riding their horse or bicycle somewhere. But the benefit to us today makes using a bike more appealing. The waste-nothing ideology is at the heart of Steampunk. Because our trade is in the old, we jump headlong into flea markets, resale shops, and that box in the basement to find goodies that can have new life. Victorian and Edwardian-style clothes can be bought ready-made – for a price. And we do buy many pieces already made. But there is a high respect for those of use who can cut up dad's shirt and make something new, or who can weld old pipe fittings together for something amazing. We're not exactly saving the world, but we damn well are trying to do something.
I can't ignore the nostalgic aspect either. It's nice to think of a time when men and women were more polite, social mores prevented a gentlemen from commenting on a lady's hooters at the gas station (er, horse post?), and people took the time to write thoughtful letters in flowing script rather than texting “where ru bitch?” Admittedly, there was a great deal of shitola going on in that time as well - class unrest, poverty, disease, racism, wars. We have the benefit of eschewing the bad and fitting the good to modern sensibilities. We can all dress up pretty and have tea and no one will care if you are black or white or how expensive you hat was or what you do for a living. That's sort of badass.
This leads me to my final point on the matter, which is the creation of community. The community is not overlarge, and the gatherings that occur are often smallish. People get to know one another. The creative of us start making clothing and jewelry and awesome weapons out of just a cap gun and some crap from the attic. We buy from one-(wo)man shops and websites and all of a sudden we are supporting friends and American-made products and services. That's right, bitches – we are buying American (or British, or whatever your locale is) and getting fine, hand-made products. You cannot beat that. People on forums and communities gladly offer patterns, advice, and information to those who ask. We are fortunate that we haven't yet devolved into a clique-y, bitchy group that shoots every noob down. Our general motto is to let y'all keep on doing what you do and make your vision of what Steampunk is be what it is.
This soap box pitch has turned out longer than I originally anticipated, and so I hesitate to scare you away with another thousand words. I think I will leave off my second part for next week, that part being about what we wear and do – and instead leave you with the promised informational links, some good resources, and a few links to some you-know-you-want-'em accessories. Cool?
For Your Information
Wikipedia, because it may be wiki, but the info is far better than my definition.
Steampunk Fashion on Livejounal wherein you can get a shitload of info and good times.
And on Facebook
And Some Pretties to Look At
I'm trying to whet your appetite here.
Ladies Hats and Mens Hats
Walking Sticks, Umbrellas, and Parasols
(Links were chosen based on what I've explored, price, and relativity to the post. There is WAY more on each item available. Maybe if you have a site/store, you'd like to comment?)
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I have been busy working on fliers, bookmarks, and t-shirt designs for my school organization, Lyceum, and working on my summer 'job'. Basically I've been on the internet and Photoshop a great deal and not just to look at/make lolcats.
What is upcoming is thus (this?): A post about Steampunk, that is, how to locate and/or fake the essentials, an update on my exciting summer reading adventures, and other stuff that I haven't thought of yet. So, if you've got an idea, comment, dammit! No, really. Because I have no idea who is reading this.
Also, if you can make a layout template, let's talk.
Oh, and here's a picture of my children because I've got nothing else to amuse you.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Listen, y'all. You are being scammed.
I'm talking about shaving today, ignoring other toiletry scams for now. This scam is even named after the shaving mafia. I speak of course about this disposable razor business. If you shave, you are either buying a new plastic razor all the time, or just the razor head, and throwing the old ones in the garbage again and again. Or you use an electric razor, but I don't care about you. Hush now.
When we buy the fancy-handled shaving razor with disposable heads we have bought into a money making scheme first devised by Gillette – the actual man, I mean, King C. Gillette. And it's a pretty good deal, really – you get the handle for cheap and in turn pay buckets for the fancy razors, but are pretty much happy because it seems cheap at the time. Or, you can get out of this trickier scheme by just buying the disposables, still allegedly happy.
But that's not the end of their ploys! The razor companies, in their no-holds-barred competition with one another are constantly devising new ways to get your money. These are the new razor models that come out all the time. Some of these are more useful and alluring than others. I personally think three blades is stupid, but a lather strip is very tempting. However, at the end of the day – or shower – five blades and a lather strip hack up my shapely legs just as well as a single blade razor. The Onion illustrates the absurdity of five blades very well in this article. There is also the cost. For awhile, I was lured by the siren call or the Venus Spa Breeze into paying 12 bucks for a packet or four blades, but this isn't practical, even if you are lathering as you shave.
And here's the biggest problem in my eyes: that's a lot of garbage. Waste, I mean. All that plastic goes into the garbage – just like your money – and more oil and chemicals must be used up and burned to make more while your super badass or super pretty razor head or handle sits underground for like a quadrillion years. Terrible!
Fear not, my friends. I have an answer. It's not the straight razor, so gentleman, please do not cover your necks in fear. It if the tried and true original safety razor model invented by Mr. Gillette himself.
Pssst, it looks like this:
The benefits are plain to see. These razor handles are non-disposable – they are made from sturdy steel, etc. that will last and last. They are easy to keep clean and keep in good shape so there be no need to pitch them. The blade is just that – a single double-edged blade with not a bit of plastic in sight. These blades are cheap (as in, packets of 10 for under five dollars), last longer than the disposables (double-sided!), usually come in minimal packaging, and are far less waste in the landfill. I imagine there are some metal recycling places which will take these stainless steel blades, or you can do what I do and drop them down the slot in your medicine cabinet, which I am told by reliable folks is what that slot is for. Ahem.
Perhaps you are not convinced. Perhaps you are concerned that this type of razor will not give you a good enough shave, that this is not the best a man (or woman) can get. From my experience, this system gives just as good a shave. I have paper-thin skin and still tore my legs up with the most expensive, ergonomically designed ladies razor. The weight of the safety razor gives better control, and once you relearn your shaving technique (which takes about five minutes), you are enjoying smooth skin. And these are the grandaddy of today's safety razors, so there are blade guards to keep you from filleting your face/legs. That in mind, let's not forget the last joy of these razors – they enable us to relive to good old days, when things were made to last and were so much more CLASSY.
There are several reputable companies that still make these uber classy items. You can splurge or go easy on you wallet and still get quality. Try out Derby International, ClassicShaving.com, or Lee's Safety Razors. Here's what I have. The blades can be bought online, and in brick-and-mortar drugstores for ridiculously cheap.
If you are a wimp, and can't let go of your plastic planet-killing shavers, check out the Preserve razor. It comes in two or three blades and is made from PLASTIC YOGURT CUPS. When you're done with the razor, send the handle in postage free and complete the circle of life. I also recommend the Preserve toothbrushes and cutlery!
While you're on a fancy shaving kick, why not try ditching your chemical-filled shaving cream for some planet-friendly lather soap?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
In my efforts to act as my own English professor and make myself read important, classic works this summer, I've fried my brains out just a little. Fortunately, I have found some delicious balm for my poor, Renaissance-addled mind, and that is the Enola Holmes mystery series.
I cannot confess to be a die-hard Sherlockian – I even found the trailer for the upcoming Guy Ritchie adaptation to be interesting, which I am told is blasphemy. However, I do own the complete collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories, have read a few pastiches, and love watching television and film adaptations. As far as book pastiches go, I have found this series to be as great a read as The Seven-Per-Cent Solution, which I love.
This series, written by Nancy Springer alleges to be for the 9-12 year old set. Haha! Certainly young'uns of that age group may read and enjoy the series, but the reading level actually seems a bit higher to me – given the amount of meaty words, intelligent prose, and mature themes carefully brought up so as to pass younger readers by without notice. The story itself could easily appeal to a range of ages. The books follow the adventures of Enola Holmes, the 14 year old sister of Sherlock Holmes. When her mother disappears suddenly and mysteriously from their home in the country, Enola finds herself booking to London and hiding from her eldest brother Mycroft's devious plans (sending her to boarding school) and the younger Holmes brother as well. On wits and a little cash alone, she manages wonderfully and also starts solving crimes that even Sherlock Holmes can't solve.
The most pleasing aspect of the series is Enola herself. She is a strong character – intelligent, clever, charming, sneaky, and innovative. Her weaknesses stem from being a 14 year old, not a helpless girl in the Victorian age and and this distinction makes her a plucky and fun role model. She seems to have all of the Holmesian detective skills with the added benefit of of a more sympathetic mindset allowing her to achieve more in ways her brothers cannot. Her success at solving crimes that elude her brothers has much to do with her extended knowledge of the female world, something Sherlock Holmes obviously lacks, and consistently derides in the series. This weakness is exploited in the Holmes men again and again with laugh-worthy telling results. This lack of knowledge on the part of Victorian men makes the situation of Victorian women and their positive attributes shine. The books manage to be very true to the Doyle canon, incorporate this new character and her antics, and turn out a charming result. Sherlock Holmes is recognizably Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes is hilariously made an almost-villain in the eyes of his sister, and the world they all inhabit is both fresh and nostalgic.
Enola's adventures take her through all parts of Victorian London – from Savile Row to the East End docks. I learned more about the era reading these books than searching fifty webpages – each disguise Enola dons, from Lady to beggar is carefully described and their purpose and role in society explained. Etiquette, laws, morals, society at large are simply and interestingly explained. This most likely was to easily inform the young reader, but it helped this old lady immensely. Enola explains for the reader which colors of sealing wax signify what, what the first indoor toilets in London were like, how to tell a gentlemen from a gent, and other good things to know if you have a time machine or Steampunk meetup to go to.
These lovely books are quick reads for the adult or teen reader, and just difficult enough to be educational and worthwhile for the younger set. Like most books, they are on Amazon.com – I was able to find them in my local library, but will end up ordering them used because they are that damn good.
I made it all the way through without a 'No shit, Sherlock” joke. Aren't you proud?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Handkerchiefs in one form or another have been around for centuries. From elaborately and expensively embroidered ones of the Renaissance era, to simple white squares of more modern times, they were ubiquitous to stuffy noses before the advent of the disposable tissue. Paper tissues offer convenience to the user, as they can simply be thrown away, but really, they have no class. We're all about class here at Kissing Commas, and I wish to make you all classier individuals by focusing this week's post on the tried, true, and tasteful handkerchief.
For me, handkerchiefs have two very excellent benefits. One, they are deliciously Steampunk. Steampunk is a fashion movement, artistic and social sensibility, and lifestyle that glorifies the styles and technologies of the Victorian era with a modern, high-tech approach. My vocabulary is too woefully equipped to give the movement justice, and so I offer a few links to peruse: Wikipedia and The Ether Emporium. My point here is that handkerchiefs were carried by everyone in the Victorian era, regardless of class, and are infinitely customizable. They are an easy accessory, both decorative and utilitarian. They fit any Steampunk attire and persona perfectly. I started carrying hankies for this reason, and if you have a Steampunk inclination, I suggest you try it!
The second benefit ties more into modern sensibilities: handkerchiefs are both economical and green. Handkerchiefs are laundered, not thrown out – they are larger than tissues and thus can survive many more nose-blowings. They are cheap – they can be bought in packets of several for a reasonable price or made at home easily with scrap fabric. Some of you may protests that handkerchiefs are “icky” because they are used more than once. Dude, it's your own snot. It won't kill you. Due to the size of handkerchiefs, you aren't even forced to use the same portion more than once. If you make more than one hanky, you can have one per day and further cut down on the perceived ickyness. We also tend to forget how disgusting a wastepaper basket is when it's filled to the brim with discarded tissues. I sure hope your mama's not emptying it. Tissues cannot be recycled (believe me, I've fought with Municiple Services over this one), and with the paper snot rags and packaging they come in combined, they take up a lot of landfill space. Help Mama Earth and use a hanky for christ's sake.
There's a final reason that handkerchiefs are, like, totally fabulous, and that of course is the aforementioned classiness of them. Gentlemen, how amazing will you be in the eyes of the ladies and gents you are wooing if you bust out a hanky and offer it to him or her when they have a stuffy nose. You will be da man. Duh, man. In fact, ladies, why aren't you offering hankies chivalrously? This is the twenty-first century; woo some mofos, dammit! Handkerchiefs can be given away as tokens of affection, waved to departing sweeties who are off to fight for your country (or going to the grocery store, whatever), and tucked into pockets of suit jackets or other clothing pieces for a touch of awesome. You can sweep the dirt/water off a bench at the park for you honey, too! They're pretty badass. I guarantee you: for whatever reason you are carrying one, the hanky will up your awesome quotient by like a million. Like a million.
As I mentioned, handkerchiefs can be purchased for trifle. I've looked around and found: Wholesale Linens. They can also be found at antique shops and flea markets, but if it's a priceless antique or older than your grandma, don't blow your nose in it, please. There are a lot from the 30s onward floating around that are perfect for your boogers. You can also make you own. The easiest way is to cut a 12.5” x 12.5” piece of a light fabric (cotton, cotton blend, or linen) and fold the edges down one quarter inch on all sides. Iron the folds down, and hem with a sewing machine or by hand just above the raw edge. I've found that old t-shirts, like Hanes cotton shirts can be used to make a very serviceable hanky. Soft on the nosie! If you have a hankering (haha) for something more fancy, The Purl Bee has two great tutorials: Rolled Hem Handkerchiefs and Herringbone Handkerchiefs . Here's another tutorial, this one from Grosgrain Fabulous: Monogrammed Handkerchief. It also includes instructions for a hanky holder – nice! You can go wild if you're the flashy type by embroidering with fun colors, sewing on little swatches or ribbons, or bedazzling them. I totally bedazzle some of my hankies. Read up on all the great folding methods, slip to into your pocket or handbag, and get ready to be awesome.
You can thank me later.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Summer is here, apparently, and as the temperature rises, so does my boredom level. I start out each summer break with quite the joi de virve, excited at the prospect of no papers, exams, or long classes. Then as the season wears on, the very lack of the same begins to drive me mad. Am I really so nerdy and lame that I enjoy the papers, exams, and long classes? Yes, a little. Mostly it's the fact that I am occupied during the school year that keeps me happy.
I have decided that if I cannot pay academics to give me things to read and think about this summer (I suppose I could take a summer class, but this involves large sums of money) I can assign reading to myself! I am an academic after all, sort of. I could even pay myself to make me read, but that seems a little pointless. I have made up a list of things that I want to get read this summer, with explanations, below. Golly, I love commas.
I am rapidly approaching graduation, and my personal canon is seriously wanting. In the Fall semester I will be taking an Elizabethan/Jacobean drama class excluding Shakespeare. I have never taken any course in Billy Shakes, besides learning his sonnets, and have only read Romeo and Juliet - in high school. This is a problem! Especially because my “track” or specific course of study in English is Renaissance literature. I am determined to make up for this deficiency by reading:
-A Midsummer Night's Dream
*I actually managed to read Hamlet already, and so I'm already on the ball. Gold star for me!
Apart from the Bard, I also wish to read some so-called “classics” that I have missed out on. I will be searching through reading lists in Renaissance literature (for obvious reasons) science fiction, and Victorian literature. Here's what I have so far:
-Jack of Newbury, Thomas Deloney*
-The Inferno, Dante Alighieri
-The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, Christopher Marlowe
-Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Robert Loius Stevenson
-The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Alan Moore, Kevin O'Neill**
-Stardust, Neil Gamain
*This was assigned last semester by one of my professors. I did not read it, oops. I hope the poor professor whom I have slighted is not reading this, because I am VERY SORRY, YES INDEED. I am trying to make up for being a bum by reading it this summer.
**Yes, it's a comic. Shut up, it's literature.
You may be saying, well, what are you going to be reading for fun? Um, this is fun! I'm super duper excited about this list! I don't want to hear anything about these texts being boring because without Jack of Newbury, there would not be your goddamn Twilight! I don't expect to read every single book on the list, and I will not force myself to rush, as of course that will suck the enjoyment out of reading. That's kind of why reading for school gets us all constipated. I'm going to try to get a little Billy Shakes read first, and then move on from them. Hey, maybe there will even be a review or too! Done in iambic pentameter. No.
Feel free to post suggestions, comments, or opinions! And thank you for suffering through my sad descent into complete nerdiness.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
This is a little thing I wrote on my typewriter (yes); it hasn't been submitted anywhere, or is it likely to be. This means you can tell me what you truly think about it, but doesn't mean I'll be nice about criticism. I think. I'll probably be nice anyway.
Lady of the Rust Belt
Baby, we go cruisin',
five over the limit.
Flying the highway - revvin',
racing a setting sun that slides, sultry down
Motor City maidens, you and I.
I am the engine, you are the wheels.
Windows down, hand skipping the air, skiing the breeze.
Summer hair torrents 'round my face, sweet Motown melodies
ride the air.
I am the spirit of the interstate.
I am the Lady of the rust belt;
you are my silver steed.
We ride the night.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I say this not just because I'm in it, but because this is truly an awesome community, with a great assortment of ideas and styles, and well, YOU SHOULD READ IT, OK?!
I'm so excited, I needed an interrobang!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
My first blog could simply be an introduction to myself. However, I think I have the burden of justification on my hands. One, because this is an admittedly narcissistic act and you probably want to know why I think I'm so interesting – and why you should give a shit. Secondly, because this blog will center around the academic pariah known as “English,” I feel an urge to explain to the masses, har har, why I feel the subject is worth discussing.
If you think English is an easy field, a frivolous field, or one that does not offer a future, we are going to have problems. English is not only the study of poetry written by dead guys, or correcting people's use of commas, it is the study of the English language in all its forms and aspects. There is not a single field English does not connect with. Written and spoken words convey history, motives, feelings, ideas. Mathematics majors who feel that I took the easy way out: Please try to convey your thoughts on your latest proof without any language. Go. All those weird symbols count as language, don't deny it. Examining a poem by a dead guy (or gal) gives us insight into the time it was written, their own philosophy, their life, education, and personality. The reason we go bananas over commas and other punctuation marks is that they create a rhythm in pieces that dictate how the piece is read. Yes, that's totally important:
And to you, dummies, and scholars, this is serious.
Take out the first comma. Do it. You're a dummy!
And to you dummies, and scholars, this is serious.
I came up with that myself. Where's my gold star?
It will take more to convince some of you cats, so I am letting it go for now. Moving on, let me give you an idea of what an English major can do besides teach. Apparently, everyone but I got a memo stating that was all we were good for. Teaching is great, but here's a few more ideas:
- Writer: Novelist, Short Fiction, Poetry (Sometimes it DOES pay!)
- Lecturer, Orator
- Performing Artist
- Book Critic
- Book seller
- TV/Movie Writer
In fact, this list could go on forever, because there are hundreds of jobs that do not require this degree, but could benefit greatly. This includes anything from store clerk to politician. A well-versed English major is a well-versed communicator. Deny the need to speak and write well all you want, but no one wants to look like an ignorant douche on a cover letter, business proposal, or job interview. Learning to understand, interpret, and create writing is how this ability is fostered.
As for myself, I am of course and English major. I earned my Associates first at a community college and now attend the University of Michigan-Dearborn. My main interest is in science fiction and Victorian literature, which is ridiculously odd. I live with it. I am an Editor for the school's literary and fine arts journal, which means absolutely nothing, except good times and drama over commas. See, I'm a poet also.
I have Celiac disease, and health problems because of it. Acquiring my Bachelors will take time because of this (I'm almost on year six, and still a Junior), as will being healthy enough to work and make cash money to pay my bills. I write and try to sell works, but that doesn't always pan out. The goal of this blog stems from that. I want to document my academic and creative life, practice and share writing and anything else creative I can pull from my patootie (what?), and interact more with the world at large, maybe if I'm lucky, even network. I have no grand scheme, because I suspect few will read this. Ostensibly because I will be posting no nudies, but perhaps more likely because like selling a story, selling a blog is difficult. I'm jumping in anyway.
This has been long and boring enough, so get out of my face. With love.