Halloween Stories

       I have noticed that there are two kinds of horror: First there is the fun horror, the horror you go to experience at haunted houses, the kind that develops a cult following. It is so much fun because you get the rush of adrenaline from the tension (the same reaction you would feel on a roller-coaster or other simulated danger), and then afterwards all the hilarity of remembering your reactions, mixed with a healthy dose of relief. However, there is another type of horror, what I think of when I hear the term, which leaves you unsettled and uneasy afterwards. It is not about zombies, or sharp objects, or being startled, but about the human soul.

       Horror is an involuntary reaction. It is not controlled by reason, but by the senses. Think about navigating a haunted house: there are sounds (the sounds of distressed human beings works the best), there is visual input (the sets, and also the darkness, which gets your imagination scrambling) and there is tactile input (things hanging from the ceiling that you have to push away, as well as the plain fact that you are physically present.) Your mind might know that there is no danger, but your body is being tricked into tension, a tension that explodes when someone jumps out at you in a plastic mask. Slasher movies use as many of these tricks as they can, as well: other distressed humans, worrisome sounds, visual cues, and sudden scares.

       However, since horror comes from the subconscious, people are horrified by different things. Personally, I find myself laughing at slasher movies simply because my response to fear is to get super analytical: to point out the terrible acting, the cheap special effects, the inaccurate wounds, or even just the fact that it's a movie. Want to set me on edge? Be subtle. Don't show me the monster, or, better yet, show me a monster I can worry about: human beings.

       Well, I am currently trying to scribble a little something of my own for Halloween, but I also have to prepare for Nanowrimo, a job interview, and life in general, so please enjoy a few dark stories, in honor of the season. These are all picture-stories ("comics" doesn't seem like the appropriate term) because, as I mentioned, all the best horror touches as many senses as it can, so visual is better than just words.

       First, I would like to recommend His Face all Red, a dark little story by Emily Carroll. I read this on Halloween in 2010, and the imagery really stuck with me.

        Did you like it? Here is another by Emily Carroll: The Prince and the Sea. It is similar, except it starts out nicer, and ends up worse.

       Okay, well, I understand that things like that aren't necessarily everyone's cup of tea, so here, have some straight Korean horror: 2011 Mystery Short. Unlike the other two, which get under my skin, this one makes my heart jump. Every time. Yes, I know it is in Korean. No, you don't have to be able to read it. Just keep scrolling.

       Mwahahaha!

Psychologies and Things

       Today I have landed a job and purchased chicken, and I am excited for both. These, as well as gorgeous weather, conversations with family members and informative video consumption, have ensured that I enjoyed my day fairly fully.

       What have I watched? Of note, I watched a video from the Fashion Week Internationale series highlighting Seoul. The series seems fairly interesting, despite it's superficial discussions, because it focuses much less on fashion than it does on the differences between cultures highlighted by the events, so I might watch more. This one taught me some surprising things about the beauty culture of South Korea, and subsequently sparked an interest in Asian history, since it occurred to me that I really don't know much about the individual countries that compose "Asia."

(Continues beneath the cut...)

Dance Inspiration: Halloween

       I just realized that some of my favorite dances fit well with the Halloween Spirit drifting about this October, so I thought I would share them with you, bereft, as I am, from anything better to say. Enjoy.

       I did spend a certain amount of time trying to find a third to round out this display, to no avail. You are just going to have to imagine your own ghost waltz, or vampire tango, or mad scientist celebration.

Wanna See Something I Made?

       Before I came to Portland, I found a small, cross-shoulder backpack at the Salvation Army and snatched it up, aware of my impending launch into the world of the constant pedestrian. It was a tad big, but definitely an improvement on my dollar store back-to-school backpack. Unfortunately, it was also a diaper bag, and sported the cheerful Gerber logo in conspicuous white outline.

       Minor superficial flaws such as these pose no threat to the ingenious mind of a frugal crafter such as myself.

Before:

After:

       Now I have a moth buddy! He was inspired by the brilliant and beautiful creations of one Mr Finch, but I like his moths much better:

The Past Two Days

So, Monday, I woke up around noon. Then I grumbled a bit because I had planned to arise considerably earlier than noon. Then I tidied and considered all the things that I did not want to do, chief among them being ‘call about a job.’

I called about the job. I was invited to an impromptu interview. I panicked. I dressed hastily. I utterly failed to convince an old guy that I was not employed by the CIA, and I only sort of failed to catch the bus.

I was bright and experienced and obviously the best choice for a temporary employee, and I was perched on a swivel chair behind the counter as clients continued to stream past, doctors continued to stream around, and receptionists continued to direct the flow. My interviewer turned back to me every now and then when there was a lull in the action, and asked me “so tell me about yourself” and “what plans do you have for the next five years?” I was invited to return for a trial day. I missed the bus home. 

I bought sustenance (chiefly, water) and read “Lepanto” out loud to myself as I waited for the next one. I spoke with a stranger, and we slowly became less strange to each other on the ride home. I unlocked my apartment, set my alarm clock for early and collapsed.

I writhed for a bit, sleepless.

This morning I got out of bed and got ready and felt underdressed and successfully caught the bus in the rain. I filed and fed a shredder. I considered the fact that my adult life seems to consist of the thought “O God, no!” and the feeling that I could do great things, if only I could figure out how.

I sang to myself at the bus stop (The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Les Miserables), and read “Ceasar’s Antlers” on the bus home. There was mail waiting for the previous tenant, who seems to have skipped town and abandoned all his bills, including his student loan repayments.

I ate ramen. I am writing this. I have now decided to stop writing, leaving this poor post with the faint feeling that it has been abandoned, unresolved. 

Sunday

It is Sunday, and I am making ramen for lunch and writing an essay on the co-dependence of Faith and Reason.

Here, have a video of Alain de Botton, an atheist, explaining what atheists should glean from religion:

You know, Neil deGrasse Tyson had an interesting point when he said,

"It is weird that the word "atheist" even exists. I don't play golf. Is there a word for non-golf-players? Do non-golf-players gather and strategize? Do non-skiers have a word, and come together, and talk about the fact that they don't ski?" 

I think his point was that there should not be a word, but all I can see is that being against religion is fundamentally strange. There are simply voids and questions that are not just untouched by science, but not meant for science in the first place.

A Wave of Reason

I love how much I can love this video, eventhough I don't necessarily agree with everyone in it.

Lightning

Sometimes I get struck, like as if by a bolt of lighting, by the phenomenal beauty of human life; what we can do, think, know, experience. Real life is so, so much better than any fiction that could ever be imagined, and there is so, so much more to life than sex and entertainment. I just...

Sometimes, I cry because I am not God. Sometimes I am just overwhelmed by the disparity between what there is to know and understand and live, and how much I reasonably expect, in my short little time here, to know and understand and live.

Visual Inspiration: People with Elephants

The Pensive Pen (Whether He Liked it or Not)

Edward Gorey is the illustrator whose work you have seen but whose name you might not know. An artistic eccentric who spent only one semester in art school and, at least at the beginning, self-published his work, Gorey has become well known for his intricate, nonsensical drawing and macabre humor. Personally, I have never liked his drawings, but after seeing a gallery of his works at the Portland Public Library yesterday, I have developed new interest and respect.

(There is more below the cut, because this ended up longer than I expected...)

Visual Inspiration: People With Animals

Lucien Freud, self portrait

Audrey Hepburn with Pippin

Kevin Richardson

meanwhile, in Peru...

Visual Inspiration: People

I have several folders on my computer filled with images that I find beautiful and inspirational for one reason or another, and I want to share them with people, so here, have some portraits!

photo by Paolo Roversi, Vogue Italia, 2003

Cate Blanchett

Pierre Balmain, fitting Ruth Ford

A Thought

I think the definition of beauty is "That quality that makes life worth living."

Changes

I started this brand new web log specifically because I have suddenly catapulted myself more than four hundred miles from everyone and everything that I have ever known in quest of a fresh start. I wasn't running away from anything in particular, but I thought that I needed a good kick to get me going towards more than just a mediocre life, so here I am!

It doesn't feel like home, yet, but it will. Also, for the record, I cried the first night, and I never cry. There were extenuating circumstances that I won’t bore you with, but I am also kind of glad that I did. It proves that not only am I capable of normal human emotions (haha!) but that this is a real turning point in my life. I just have to capture that initial energy and harness it to something good!

Introduction

I have tried, fairly unsuccessfully, to keep various parts of my online life separate: an art blog here, an account there, and anonymous online diary elsewhere… but not only is this fractured arrangement hard to manage, it’s kind of boring. The best art blogs involve not only the author’s creations, but her inspirations and life snippets, too; philosophical blogs can be heavy without news and light hearted truth sprinkled in; and no one wants to read pages of a teenager’s diary unless she has a really interesting life. (To be honest, I couldn't stomach “The Princess Diaries” books even though she was suddenly royalty!)

So here you go, world: a blog maintained by me. Sometimes I will wax philosophical, sometimes I will post art, sometimes I will show you things that I like, sometimes I will talk about books, sometimes I will talk about movies, sometimes I will subject you to my fiction writing, sometimes I will subject you to my scientific writing, and sometimes I will just record what is going on in my life.

Still here? Great! Please, please feel free to comment whenever you feel like it because monologues are so frivolous compared to conversations!

Peace,

            Maria

PS. I was going to name the blog “Truth and Beauty,” because that has been my motto ever since I decided to depose “No-one is going to help you so do it yourself.” However, it was a little too pretentious and suggested that everything here would be true and/or beautiful, which is my aim, but not my claim. Anyway, I went with Philosopher (for all my babbling), Creator (for all my art, writing and and crafting), and Pirate (for all my adventures, travels, and unapologetic plundering of other people's ideas.)