Wrock Friday

Ok. I love wrock*. There's even a thread for other wrock fans on the 20's NaNoers forum. We've been discussing Ministry of Magic (my favorite wrock band - sort of techno), Harry and the Potters, MC Kreacher (wrap), The Moaning Myrtles, & The Remus Lupins. I've listened to a lot of wrock bands but I'm picky and like songs that are emotionally charged/pretty/good quality/well-written/sung.

So here are my new favorites:

The Sorting Hat - Riddle TM. This is a BEAUTIFUL ballad. Piano/voice. I'd sing this in a recital.

Hermione's Song - Oliver Boyd & the Remembralls. Cute, CUTE song about Hermione/Ron. LOVE IT!

My favorite Ministry of Magic song is, of course, "Bravest Man I Ever Knew," but some other wonderful ones are "Lightning Struck Tower," "Don't Leave," "I May Lose Everything," and "This Town". Really, really powerful lyrics and music.

Also...did you know there's a WROCKSTOCK every year??? This year's is in Mississippi (it's today). I WANT TO GO TO THERE.

Ink

Why in the world am I so enchanted with tattoos? Why do I love the idea of permanently (or at least semi-permanently) inking something onto my skin?

I have no idea.

BUT I have given it a lot of thought lately because of the Tattoo thread on one of the NaNoWriMo forums.

For those of you who are queasy at the thought of needles, disease, and up-keep, I'm right there with you. I don't have a phobia of needles, but I have to bring a book with me to the doctor's so I won't flinch when I get shots. I also fear the possibility of unsanitary conditions and having to get a tattoo re-touched.

...So why am I still leaning toward getting one (or several) eventually? (I won't say I WILL get one but I'm leaning toward it right now. That means, however, a lot of research, finding a great tattoo artist and paying out a lot of cash for a decent tattoo, all of which means I can in no way take this decision lightly)

I think the main reason is that I want a physical sign of my inner belief. I want things that mean something to me to be on display. This invites discussion, and gets me in with a crowd that I desperately love but might not have too much in common with.

It really is about displaying belief for me. I've been playing around with some designs today and I've found a few I'd be really, really happy to have.

I've also thought about getting white ink (it looks more like a raised scar), which is good for pale skin, but it needs more upkeep and honestly I'm not as thrilled about that. So we'll see. There are also pastel and color tattoos so I guess I'll keep those in mind.

I've thought about displaying faith before -- I imagine sometimes what it would be like to be in a place of prominence (TV star, writer, etc. HAHA. Well, you know. I can't help it) and I think about how I would like to appear - I'd probably always have a rosary handy, because once again, it invites discussion, but it takes me out of the picture a little because people can be drawn by it and ask and I don't have to shout from the rooftops that everyone's going to hell unless they repent. I can be kind, and gracious, and loving and wear something that people can see. Making faith visible is, as you can tell, really important to me.

That's why I love our Anglican church so much - the liturgy, the sacraments, the rosary, the robes, the cross, I love it all because it's symbolic and the artist in me delights in the expression.

So that's really why I want tattoos.

Here's a couple ideas I have, along with a short synopsis of what they mean.

1. Lamppost with the words "Into the Light" - The lamppost, of course, is a reference to Chronicles of Narnia, which were the first books I remember reading. They shaped my early childhood and later, I gleaned theology from them as well. They mean a lot to me, and I deeply respect C.S. Lewis for 'baptizing my imagination' with fantasy. "Into the Light" is my own personal motto.

2. A badger head with "Always" - The badger since I am in HufflePuff (there's a spiritual connection to this story but it is long-winded) and "Always" for Snape. Rowling has also helped me come to terms with the death of a loved one and is an inspiration for me as a writer (seeing as her beliefs are clear in her books). The badger symbolizes tenacity and Snape symbolizes the power of love - a greater magic than any other, as Dumbledore said.

3. A swallow with some words (haven't decided yet) - I had a dream about having a swallow tattoo above my knee with a pretty script in an oval around it, and when I woke up I was deeply disappointed that it was not there. Swallows, in Christian literature, symbolize the resurrection (since they return on Easter, according to medieval literature).

Those are the three I've been designing today.

Of course, there are fantastical ones (like the little fairy with "I Do Believe in Fairies" that I wanted at one point) that would be neat to have, but the above three are the ones I'm concentrating on designing right now.

You never know when you might need a tattoo design.

Twin Pistols

For lack of a better title, I'm naming my NaNoWriMo novel (6 days!!) "Twin Pistols".

I wanted it to be a fun, screwball comedy holiday story about a girl and her great-aunt.

Unfortunately, I can't write anything light.

So what it's turning out to be (and it still might be a screwball dramedy...?) is a story about a girl who is sheltered and naive who meets her 'hero' and realizes that you can't idolize someone without being disappointed. (I'm hoping it will end on a redemptive note)

I'm not sure where this is going/coming from, but at least it's deeper than what I had a week ago. Trying to figure out subplots, flaws, and character quirks does not come easy to me, but I have progressed in my writing to realize what my weak spots are and I hope this means my writing will continue to get stronger.

I've also decided to do some basic character sheets, a virtual collage (thanks to Pinterest), and maybe a mind-mapping technique for scenes. We'll see how much time I have this week. I'd also like to do a summary and outline, but I think I might be like R.L. Stine and only see a few scenes at a time.

I am counting down the days until NaNoWriMo, and I have the evening to myself tonight, so here's hoping some more planning gets done.

Battle on the Tower/Star Wars Remix

I think the culprit is definitely cheese. Had a slice with dinner last night as well as a cup of broccoli cheese soup and here's what I dreamed:

I was at a castle, in the middle of a cold, rainy night. Harry and I were racing up and down the towers and staircases, flinging spells behind us as we were chased by what looked like Cardinal Richilieu (or someone thereabouts) and his gang. Voldemort might have been there too. So we finally got out of the castle, and I jumped in the way of a spell to save Harry but it didn't hit either of us (thank goodness) and we started leaping down the stairs into a dank, deep place where we couldn't see.

Richilieu & Voldemort's men finally cornered us underground and we made our way into what looked like a metro station entrance - there was light, the walls and floor were a dirty beige, and there were people milling about, including our friends who had also gotten caught: Princess Leia, Han Solo, and Luke.

They put us in a metro car (it looked like a trailer inside, complete with raggedy carpet, a kitchen and bathroom, and a living room) and started taking us waaaaay deeper than we ever thought possible. We started discussing PuddleGlum and the Silver Chair and wondered if we were about to have a similar experience.

I was sitting on an old stuffed chair covered in a blanket and someone noticed that there was smoke coming from beneath the chair. I got off and lifted it up, and there was a huge hole right under the chair. The blanket was caught in the machinery of the car and it had caught on fire. I immediately went to the bathroom and grabbed a plastic cup from there, and then a plastic bowl from the kitchen and filled them up. When I got back, I stood away from the hole and poured the water in (I knew the steam would be really hot).

Apparently they thought it was amazing that I would know to stay back from the steam because some prison guard had gotten hurt by sticking his face over the fire and pouring water on it some time ago. I explained that I had dealt with steam before while building the bottom of a dollhouse (don't know where that came from, as that is not true in my real life).

Then I sat on the floor next to a prison guard who was crocheting, and he showed me a book full of crochet stitches and I mentioned I'd brought my crochet needle (and knitting, but I worried they'd take my knitting needles away as they were pointy). He offered to lend me the book and we sat happily crocheting until the trailer car stopped.

Then we were herded out into a big space that must have been miles and miles under the earth.

It was dark, and empty, and I didn't know how long we were going to be here, but we were together, and we would come up with a plan to escape. And then we'd escape.

Unfortunately, this is where I woke up.

Hogwarts Theology

It happened again. I ate cheese for lunch and then went to Chik-Fil-A at dinner time, so not sure what exactly triggered the dream I had last night.

Anyway...here it is, in all its nerdy and confusing glory:

My family and I were at HOGWARTS. Yes. Yes, we were. All of us. Except, I think, my dad.

So there we were, and we were up a few stories and it was dark (might have been near the third floor corridor that was so dangerous the first year), and we were at a little cafe nook, which sat on one side of the square gallery (there were stairs beneath and stairs above). I was showing my siblings (who all loved the books) around, and talking to my mom (who was the bartender. It was weird).

I explained to my mom that Harry's two different lives - the one with the Dursleys and the one at Hogwarts - were like post-christian materialism (Dursleys) and the spiritual life (Hogwarts) - as in, Harry is living in a materialistic world, and then experiences the supernatural, and starts living in that world while still being a part of the 'real' world. It made more sense in my head (I think I did read somewhere that someone made the connection between "Diagon Alley" and "diagonally" and how the Dursleys typified the materialistic, post-Christian worldview of many Europeans, but I've never heard the 'spiritual life' argument for Harry's life in the wizarding world).

So my mom kept cleaning glasses, and finally said, "Well, I guess I should read them with you...oh yeah, you wanted me to listen to the audio books." She did not sound enthused, and I remembered that she was NOT an audio learner (which she isn't). So I said, "Hey, I'll read them to you while we do some crafts together! We can make bracelets and crochet and knit and sew..."

At that point, Professor Snape was tramping down the corridor, his cape flapping behind him. Then I knew that we were in the Half-Blood Prince and I knew what was coming up, and I started crying. I mean, seriously bawling.

And then somehow potions became involved (tried to brew 2 yesterday on Pottermore and only succeeded with one, but didn't lose any house points - gained 3 for the correctly brewed one!), and I don't remember any more.

X-Men, Vampire Slayers and Hogwarts Students

Ok. Last night was ridiculous.

After Warhammer, the boys and I piled into cars and headed to Waffle House at 10 p.m. Which, I have to say, is much more early (ergo, reasonable) than usual, so better for our stomachs. Stu and I split hashbrowns and cheese (does American cheese count? I don't think it's *really* cheese...), waffles, and bacon. Delicious.

But of course, my dreams were insane. When aren't they, really?

Here's what happened:

I was at the house I always dream about (the one I lived in the longest...makes sense, I guess), and we were expecting visitors. Or at least, I was. I was part of a staff that hosted in the house - for various groups of people/students. (I guess it was like a mid-way point to their schools or something. I guess we were a train station of sorts) I poked my head out the back door and realized we were *IN* a train - the house was actually a moving train car. We were near the back.

Anyway, I slid open the door and peeked out to see one of our students huddled in a heap of lumber. I was about to go talk to him for a secret meeting (Oh yes, I was also a part of some Order or other...not sure if it was Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army, the X-Men with Professor Xavier, or the Scooby Gang, but it was definitely one of those), but then I turned my head to the right and saw a bunch of rather unsavory characters - some of the evil X-Men (they were young at this point) and Draco Malfoy.

So I covered up my surprise and asked them all into the kitchen, where we began feeding the good (and bad) highschool students. And they were from everywhere - we had witches and wizards from Hogwarts, students from SunnyDale High, and of course students from Professor Xavier's school. I served them and then made my way to the other side of the car, to open the front door to go out on the porch.

This side of the train car wasn't moving, so I'm not really sure if we were trans-dimensional or not. Who knows.

There was a mixture of students out here as well, so I gabbed with another waitress about how "cute" this class (I meant every class...maybe they all went to the same school) was. What I was really saying was how many 'bad guys' I was starting to recognize. The other waitress sort of elbowed me and gestured that we should get back to work, but as soon as we went inside, we knew that they knew that we knew, and the battle had begun...

Unfortunately, I don't remember anything past that.

Darn.

New Beginning?

Had another crazy dream last night - I only had cheese and crackers for dinner, though. Apparently cheese is the culprit...?

I dreamed, once again, that I was in our old house (This house appears in my dreams a LOT. It's the only house I've lived in that I continue to dream about). Instead of helping my family move out, however, Kathy Bates (who looks remarkably like the worst harp teacher I had) was getting rid of my (and my sister's) stuff and re-arranging the house to her liking (even though she wasn't using every room). She moved our stuff around, got rid of some of our stuff, and brought in new things.

I was upstairs for the entire dream, in my brothers' old bedroom and the loft. I walked into their room and saw two dolls dancing. I let them know I had caught them (I've always imagined dolls coming to life behind my back/at night) and handed them another doll (a baby one) that needed repairs. They cleaned it up and while I was looking through boxes of things, a tiny, cuddly badger came into the room and jumped around, happy to see me. I baby-talked at it while it snuggled my cheek, and it was the CUTEST THING.

...and that's about all I remember.

When I really start to think about it, I see a lot of meanings coming together for this dream. I'm slowly untangling all the threads, ever hopeful that what it all means is that I'm moving on. Becoming more stable, becoming better, more positive, and strong.

The Saddest Dream

I had Domino's bacon/sausage/extra sauce (I blame the extra sauce) pizza last night, along with a bowl of Cookie Crisps (I don't know...I've eaten a lot of sugar lately for some reason...), so this is what happens:

I dreamed I was at a house in the country with my family and some of their friends that I remember from growing up. The house was old, with vines growing all over it, and a partially fenced yard in the back. The house was down the road from a new development (some of our friends lived in the development) and we had our friends over to help us clear out the backyard, which was full of tangled weeds.

I was on the left side of the yard, above the house (there was a sort of hill, and the house sat midway between top and bottom), and as I circled, I saw a gigantic GRIZZLY BEAR in the fenced-in area directly behind the house.

I quietly made my way back to the front of the house and warned everyone to stay out of the way until it left.

That was not enough for the boys, apparently. My dad and some of his friends grabbed some guns and went back around the house.

I never heard gunshots, so I don't know if they killed the bear or not, but the next thing I know I see a tiny cub, walking on its hind legs. I was holding two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (I'd eaten the crusts off of both), and it looked up at me, one of its front paws in its mouth, and I surrendered a sandwich.

It had never eaten a sandwich before, and at the first bite it closed its eyes and wriggled in delight. It loved the grape jelly. Each bite was wonderful, delicious, heavenly. We finished our sandwiches together and then someone came to tell us that the big bear was dead.

It turns out the little bear was a Talking Bear. The big bear had been his grandmother, and I felt so sorry for him. He didn't cry, but he got down on all fours and began sniffing and started searching for something. I followed him, past these amazing pink blooms on vines that hung over the trees that produced a sort of melon. I asked what he was looking for.

"I want to bury grandmother under the grapes."

There was a muscadine grape plant behind the house, and all of a sudden I got very, very sad. He'd just had his first taste of grapes and loved it, and now he was burying his grandmother beneath something he had just learned to love.

We went to the right side of the house to a path where my family were preparing for a cookout. The baby bear grabbed some plates and cups and followed me up the steps. My father spoke harshly to it, which made me intensely angry. "You stick close to me from now on," I said to the baby bear.

We sat down beside the steps and I cuddled him in my arms, trying to comfort him. I explained to my family that he wanted his grandmother to be buried beneath the grapes, so my dad and friends got out their shovels and started to dig while I rocked the bear back and forth, back and forth, thinking about the grapes and grape jelly.

I woke up with tears in my eyes, and here I sit, still crying.

I know it's silly, but it was achingly sad.