i have now read some of my new friend maggie’s work, and have decided she’s a far better writer than i am ever likely to be.

not that this will stop me.

i always feel a grudging sort of gratitude when a snippet of pop culture triggers something. my academic side rebels against it, but there it is just the same.

so i was watching sex and the city tonight and there was this episode i’ve never seen before (which isn’t really very surprising) and in it carrie’s dating all these freaks and she eventually turns into one herself. but it’s not the plot that got me. what got me was this bit in the closing monologue about her finding her own inner freak, “the woman whose fear ate her sanity”. and it occurred to me that that’s me. i’ve been so afraid of fucking up, of doing the wrong thing, of making the wrong choice, of being alone, of not being loved, of all these things i’ve sworn not to be afraid of, that the fear has taken over and i’m not in control of my own life anymore. and i decided it’s time to stop.

and it’s not quite better yet, but it will be.

i will be.

how do you make god laugh?

make a plan.

[kicking and screaming, noah baumbach]

it has been a lovely thanksgiving. this despite the very, very difficult fact that stephen and i might well be no more in the very near future. molly and maggie and mike and mom and i ate duck and drank wine and calvados and coffee and more calvados and had a succession of wonderful chats. and despite the fact that nobody’s having an easy go of it right now, we were together and it was good. and perhaps what it all comes down to is how we all feel and see and manifest love. regardless of who knew whom at the beginning of the evening, we all walked out as family. and family is what it’s all about.

it is exceedingly difficult for me to imagine that this man who has been my companion, my friend, my lover for the past nine months might be gone. it strikes at my heart that what we each need we seem to not be able to give one another without great detriment to ourselves. ultimately, selfishly, it kills me that i can’t fix this. my mom tells me that this has been a thing with me since i was three, this idea of fixing things that are broken.

there are things that i cannot fix. i know this cognitively, but it breaks my heart to admit it. i wish it were not so. but either way, i give thanks for stephen, this man who has reminded me of so many things i might otherwise have taken for granted. i admire his tenderness, his passion, his curiosity, his heart. and when i count my blessings, i count him among them.

and that’s my thanksgiving. all of that, and every day that i realize how much love there is in my little world. which probably isn’t nearly often enough.

went to see harry potter and the sorcerer’s stone last night. for the very few among you who don’t already know, i’m a huge fan of the books – my only regret is that my first editions are american and not british versions. so what did i think of the film?

my first response was that, as a shorthand version of the book (i.e., provided you were able to fill in the holes in the story) it was pretty good. but the more i thought about it – and discussed it with my fellow moviegoers (who had not read the books for some unfathomable reason), the more i realized that there’s a lot more wrong with the film than just the fact that you can’t cover every nuance of the story in a movie, even if it is two and a half hours long. what began to bother me the most was that the characters – these characters that are so vivid and beautifully developed in the books – were, in the film, complete unknown quanitities aside from costuming. don’t get me wrong – the casting is excellent and the performances brilliant (particular kudos to alan rickman as severus snape, who even with nothing to go on, script-wise, managed to come off creepy as hell). the film is lovely to look at, and the effects are fun and beautifully managed. there’s just one problem – unless you’ve read the books, you’ve got no clue what the point is.

unless you’ve read the books, you don’t even know the professor mcgonagall is head of gryffindor house. you don’t know what she teaches, either (tranfiguration). you don’t know anything about the discipline or study required to become a witch or wizard. you don’t know professor flitwick’s name, and you never even know that herbology exists. you never meet the overprotective madame pomfrey, and peeves doesn’t even exist. they never even really explain the rules of quidditch, which makes it all look pretty dumb, even if the effects are pretty damned cool. overall, despite the limitations of time and scope dictated by the medium, i believe it’s possible – and in a case like this, critical – to be choosy about what does and doesn’t get included. i think characters – especially in a series like this one – are the crux of everything, and it’s very disappointing to me that they were so underdeveloped.

i really did enjoy the film. i’ll probably even buy the dvd. but i’m going to keep telling people to read the books – preferably *before* they see the movie, even if they never see the movie at all. so all of you: go read them. they’re lovely.

and now i’m off to finish my fourth reading of harry potter and the goblet of fire.

…is that i had an excellent conversation with an excellent bunch of people earlier this evening, ranging from forces of nature to forces of the mind, from tornadoes to literary tours de force, from sailing to psychology. bless you all. you know who you are.

“Sir, we ought to teach the people that they are doing wrong in worshipping the images and pictures in the temple.”

Ramakrishna: “That’s the way with you Calcutta people: you want to teach and peach. You want to give millions when you are beggars yourselves… Do you think God does not know that he is being worshipped in the images and pictures? If a worshipper should make a mistake, do you not think God will know his intent?”

– The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna

I have this evening discovered that there are still people in the world who equate mythology with politics, the mystery of faith with the stoicism of regulation, the beauty of a story with the structure of legislation. Young people. People who I had hoped would, if not know better, then at least hope for better. This makes me very, very sad.

Phineas has updated his front page. Bless him. He’s also working, which is even better. Granted, the clients logo is, in Phin’s own words, “the gayest little lighthouse ever”, but so be it. At least he won’t be totally destitute.

Speaking of which, I’d better get a move on or I’m going to be late for work.

After more than two weeks of wrestling, i’ve finally been able to resurrect the site. ominously (or not), it died just as i was writing a bit of a thank you to the world on all hallow’s eve. i still want to put it out there, though, so here it is:

there was this girl one time who spent a whole big chunk of her life trying to figure out what she might be good at, and never stopping to see what she was. and lots of things happened to her and lots of things she made happen and some were good and some were bad and there was laughter and there were tears and there were all the good and difficult things that this world has to offer, and then there came a day when she just stopped. only for a moment, stopped and just felt it. felt her life and the changing of the colors and the changing of her body and the changing of her heart and she looked in the mirror and saw a clear light shining there. and the years and the tears and the love and the sorrow stopped dragging her down and started holding her up. and the world opened. and the night was clear and crisp and cold and the moon was full.

and she sang and she danced and she gave thanks.

i give thanks. for this day and that day and those between and those to come. and for all of you who have been there.

now hear this.

sorry, did i say laryngitis? i meant plague. or perhaps some heretofore unknown variant of afro-asian todesflu.

now will someone shoot me?