another year, another beer

2009 is about over. Time for another year to screw with my mind and rock my world.

No matter the age or level of wisdom, each moment had is a learning experience. The past year has come with its own lessons, some of them new, some old and some have simply been confirmations of tested and untested theories or addendums to past beliefs.

Over the past year I've learned...

• Accepting change comes with letting go of formerly held beliefs
• Love is not enough
• Indulgences make life easier
• Even teachers and people with advanced degrees cannot figure out the bloody difference between their/there, it's/its, your/you're, etc.
• Sometimes it's accidental
• Addictions are a crutch
• There's a reason we need a crutch
• Weakness is not shameful
• Sometimes I'm not ashamed, even when I really, really should be
• You don't have to be a sociopath to not feel guilty when you've done something wrong
• Or maybe I am a sociopath
• When you are one person all your life, it takes more than a handsome face and loving arms to change you into a different person no matter how badly you both want that change
• Even if you love 99% of one thing, that missing 1% can be just enough to change your mind
• On the other hand, sometimes that 1% is trivial
• Comfort and familiarity aside, there's a reason we fit, a reason we work together even when we don't want to
• I am finally 100% sure that I am totally done for
• Convenience is often a major factor
• Some attachments are actually good
• Independence is the hardest thing to let go of, nothing else even comes close
• I am incapable of turning the other cheek
• Sometimes revenge has a taste other than "sweet"
• It's not 7, it's 6
• None of them mattered
• I love living on Guam
• I hate living on Guam
• If you ask a person with no fingernails to scratch an itch, it won't feel good and you will be left unsatisfied
• I was right from the start, you really are the one
• Everything is better with you
• Sanity = my homeys
• I am not above anything
• You are the only one who is worth it
• You are worth anything
• You are still my home
• I really am ready

Happy New Year, everyone. Make it count. Do what you do. Live your life. Don't take it too seriously. Let what happens happen and figure out where you fit in all of it. Sometimes taking a step back and observing the way the tides move is the most important part of learning and living. Make mistakes, laugh at yourself, remember where you've been, let it go. Move on. And don't be afraid.

"Je ne les crains pas. C'est pour cela que je suis nee." -Jeanne d'Arc

Look it up.

trimming it down some

In fitting with the streamline theme I plan on working on for the forseeable future, I'm playing a requiem for my parenting blog and moving the stuff on over this way.

The first throwback: Flipping out. It's just something I do from time to time.

life is seldom all rainbows and sunshine. even the happiest people find themselves feeling the cracks in their foundation get larger and larger and suddenly have barely a second to decide whether they want to indulge in an nervous breakdown or not. many people don't want to admit that they have such emotions, let alone show them to others. often, the last people we want to be witness to such a moment of weakness are children, especially our own.

among many of the reasons why we choose not to show our kids such things is believing that we should represent strength and stability to children who are still learning about the world around them and the way they should respond to that world. if mommy and daddy can't handle the stress, why would they think they should be able to?

so when i find myself in the middle of a breakdown i no longer have the strength to fight off and i am unable to get myself into a room that has minimal childish traffic and there's a little boy asking out loud, "why is my mommy crying?" my first instinct is to wipe away my tears and pretend everything is okay. then i realize that no amount of hiding myself now is going to change the fact that i was already caught. kane starts offering me candy, telling me not to cry and then looks knowingly at his daddy and says, "mommy just needs to lie down." (son, mommy needs to lie down for several years...)i start to wonder about the effects this will have on my son. and then i realize that just as with all things, such a spectacle should be accompanied by one very important thing: communication.

when the shoe is on the other foot and kane or drew find themselves too upset to function, i neither ignore nor coddle. i try to remember that this is not some animal to train but a human being with real emotions, valid whether we like to think they are or not. i do my best to redirect their frustration and try to calm them down, using words to express those feelings when applicable. these aren't things only children can benefit from. these are things we all need. and what could be more comforting to such a young child than knowing that mommy and daddy get upset sometimes too.

before the wave of emotion even passes i make sure that when my son is trying to understand how i feel and why i'm crying, i acknowledge his questions and accept his help. if he feels he can comfort me, it stands to reason that it will make him more inclined to let me comfort him. when i am able to be calm and speak reasonably, i confirm what he's already beginning to understand: adults cry when they are sad, too. i let him know it's okay. i let him know that being sad is momentary and i will now always be this way. i let him know that we can make decisions and look at the world more positively and start to feel better. and i let him know that everyone needs help and comfort sometimes.

there's no shame in showing weakness to your children. there's nothing wrong with letting them know that you are just like them. it's a raw form of communication that shows them what you may not be able to "just tell". and communication when expressed appropriately is never a bad thing.

let them play again...

...in some other way, and let them be happy."

that was quoted from the afterword of a scanner darkly, one of my favorite novels by my favorite science fiction writer, philip k. dick. a scanner darkly is a semi-autobiographical novel about drug use and drug culture. the novel, itself, is not the central point to this specific blog. the afterword, however, is one of several inspirations for me to post this entry.

the above quote referred to a list of some of the author's loved ones, "some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did." (copyright philip k. dick, 1977) these people were addicts, as dick once was as well. "what they did" was drugs. their punishment was the natural effects of the drugs they did. fitting in with the overall theme of the novel, it's an indictment of a society that creates problems, gives us the tools to get through those problems and the reality that some of those tools caused more pain in the end than the very pain those drugs were used to alleviate.

i'm also writing this while watching sober house, a reality program about celebrities living in a house meant to be a transition place between rehab and the real world as they have not experienced it in a long time: as a sober person. i watch these people, some of whom i consider amazingly talented, all of whom have lost close to everything because of their drug use. sadly, part of what they lost is what made them famous. they lost their drive, their ambition, often their talent. very often, they lost the people who aided in their fame: their closest loved ones and fellow collaborators.

people often excuse this drug use and behavior. a person creates a masterpiece be it a song, film, work of literature or visual art and their fans are sometimes quick to believe that drugs were an integral part of that work. often, it can be. my own experiences with drugs have either relaxed me to approach what i was doing with ease and less stress; or energized me so that i could keep up with the demands of an overladen schedule; and sometimes it felt as though it opened my mind to consider and appreciate ideas i wouldn't normally have when sober. the last of those mentioned effects have been spoken about ad nauseum.

talent is talent. inspiration comes from the mind and from experiences. and it can be argued that without those experiences, some of our favorite works -- a scanner darkly, for example -- would never have been created and we would never have the benefit of enjoying such works. consider, then, what the artists' intentions were when in the midst of conceptualization. consider, then, what a huge insult it is to the artists when people believe such talent comes mainly or even partially from drug use. several tests have been done to study and record the effects of various drugs on artists. an overwhelming majority of them reported some sort of improvement in their craft in technique, approach and content. but what degree of improvement was there? what would patrons and consumers think of the difference between sober pieces and those that were created under the influence?

on top of everything else, people see correlation between talent and drug use without attempting to understand the effects those drugs have had on their lives as a whole. i have yet to encounter any artist in any field who functioned better, as a whole, in the duration of their lives and all aspects of it, when under the influence.

i have met people, mostly amateur artists, who claim they have drug use to thank for any part of their lives whether they had talent or not. all of those people were still under the notion that what they did was good, inspired and worth notice. none of them realized how wrong they were. personally, not only does that show me a person who is living under a delusion that they have achieved one thing or another when they haven't, but it shows me a person who was not strong or sane enough to handle drugs in the first place. they were never better for the use. they were, in fact, worse than before and before, they weren't that good to begin with.

it further makes me consider my past drug use and the drug use of people i love or once loved dearly. it brings me to a deeper and darker part of my mind and causes me to recollect on all of our experiences, together and individually. i don't often share my personal experiences with people who know me and i don't intend to here either. if you know me and want to know, you can just ask. i also won't share the intimate details of loved ones whose lives have been ravaged by drug use.

details are not needed to illustrate what i believe most people already know but are too scared to acknowledge. they are fearful of seeming straight, conservative, rigid or boring. they are fearful of admitting that with their experimentation and curiosity they are leaving out some of the most painful and scary parts of use. they are fearful of what their friends may think while all these friends are just as blind, just as deluded.

people make mistakes. people turn to drugs for so many reasons. life is not normally pleasant. sometimes it's damn exhausting and soul crushing. sometimes we hurt so much that we turn to different things to make the pain go away. we don't want to feel unhappy in the real world so we decide to turn to other things to make us happy in our own minds. no person who's lived that life for long has ever been happy, truly. no person who lives in their fantasy can appreciate reality. no person who has escaped that fantasy has been able to instantly leave that made up world and face the real one with integrity and dignity. the slow and arduous path to sobriety is often the most difficult journey a person can make.

some people just want to know. they want to figure out the hype. they are curious. they see their friends indulge and they hear stories of their experiences. very often, especially with infrequent or initial use, those experiences are interesting and enjoyable. so they want to have that experience, too. they want to experiment. and they never consider what will happen when that experience is over and they realize how much of their life they squandered away, either the days spent outside of reality or the days they have lost out on when their health starts to deteriorate.

all things considered, i sound a bit hypocritical. and truthfully, i am. but there's still one more side to it. when it comes to drug culture i first and foremost believe that one cannot consider himself to be a part of that culture until he's seen or experienced close to all of the effects of drug use and addiction, the good, the bad and the very, very ugly.

as we lose people we love day to day and attend more funerals and comfort more people for those losses, we think about the events that led to that loss. in most cases we are witness to lives and deaths that were not the fault of those who passed. death from drug use, however, belongs in the hands of the user alone. as dick said, "they wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another--run over, maimed, destroyed--but they continued to play anyhow."

remember all those people: loved ones, friends, strangers and idols who enjoyed a brief moment of joy and lost everything they had because they couldn't stop playing. remember their legacy and that part of it is allowing you a glimpse into a troubled mind and life that was too sensitive for this fucked up world. consider that most of them would not want you to idolize and replicate their mistakes that were interpreted to be part of their greatest accomplishments. consider that those works that move and touch you also should also teach and motivate you. consider that the best way to remember and honor them is to learn from them and live the life they didn't. appreciate the world around you through clear and open eyes. appreciate what you were given and make the best of it.

but also remember that although this is an affliction that we have brought onto ourselves, that this world, by nature, supplies the very things that hurt us most and disguises them as the one thing that can make everything better. remember that the punishment all of us receive was not only brought on by choice and action but also by cruelty and irony. remember that underneath everything is a person who feels and hurts. remember that underneath is a person who deserves love and a person who can love.

in closing, i'd like to take my cue from dick. i'd like to remember the people who were very big parts of my life, those i may not have known but whose lives touched those of the people i love most, who also paid too dearly for what they did:


to c.f., deceased
to m.g., permanent liver damage
to a.d., deceased
to d.d., deceased
to d.f., deceased
to r.t., missing, permanent brain damage
to j.q., permanent brain damage
to c.s., incarcerated, permanent liver damage
to a.b., permanent psychosis
to m.s., permanent psychosis
to everyone else who've lost any function of life or life, itself, to drug use
to those who've lost their loved ones to drug use
to those struggling to save those they love
to those struggling to save themselves
to those who struggle still, even while sober
to those who relapse and face the demons they fought so long to keep at bay
to those who don't realize, yet, how much they've lost

preemptive strike on broken new year resolutions

The new year is upon us and with it comes the desire to make resolutions. And with that come the promises one often breaks more often than any other promise made. We try our hardest to take other's secrets to the grave, fulfill the requests of loved ones who need our help and support and remember how strong the word "promise" should be. But we break the promises we make to ourselves. We either sacrifice or indulge when it comes to our own desires when really, those are the few promises we should stay faithful to.

Last year my resolution was simple: Lowered expectations. What kind of expectations?

I expect mutuality and reciprocation. I will try to compromise and give you the things you want if there's effort on your part to do the same for me. More, I expect only a certain degree of that reciprocation. It would be nice if you could try to understand the two things I ask of you when you give me a long list of things you need from me. I don't expect you to bake me a last-minute birthday cake, completely free of charge, as I did for you. But a simple, "Happy Birthday" would have been nice. I expect that my step-son be treated equally as my biological children. Alternately, I also expect people to treat my children the same way they would treat their older brother. I expect people to respect that my husband and I are our children's only parents and therefor, we make the rules. I expect that when I try to explain something to you that you listen to every word I say. I expect you to only consider the words I am saying without making assumptions. I expect even more when those words are not said, but written. I expect you to carefully read every word in an email, letter or other kind of message and I expect an attempt to understand those words. I expect people of a given vocation to respect the works of others of that vocation. I don't expect you to laugh at and insult the efforts of those who have probably worked harder and achieved more than you could hope to in all your life time. I expect mutuality and reciprocation even when it does not involve me. I expect to engage in debates with people who know what they are talking about. I don't expect loosely-based observations and anecdotes as proof. I expect people to understand the difference between the ideas of lay-people and the ideas of experts. I expect people to get the facts before they spread propaganda. I expect people to protest against things only when they understand them. I don't expect antagonism before you even know what you are actually speaking out against. I expect logic. I expect people of a certain age to understand widely known phenomena. But I still expect a certain degree of rechecking the facts before talking about that phenomena. I expect that if you are going to ridicule the actions of others, you choose not to take part in a similar action. I expect people to have as much of a distaste for hypocrisy as I do.

Actually, those are the things I expected once upon a time and my resolution has been to let go of all of that. Being pleasantly surprised when someone surpasses lowered expectations is much better than the disappointment felt when people do not meet expectations. I also realize that sometimes we don't know what we're doing when we're doing it. I'm clearly not above that. I know that some of my disappointment was at situations run by people who did not know what the consequences of their actions were. I also know that everyone else has their own expectations and their own lives, each with an entirely separate sequence of events and moments that have shaped who they are in a way completely different from my own life's experiences. Why should others live up to my expectations? They have their own lives to worry about. Thus, lowered expectations allows all of us to simply live the lives we need to in order to get through this mess.

This coming year I have a new one. It's actually phase 2 of the previous year's with a similar goal. Streamline. Efficiency. Simplify. And mostly, appreciate.

This is regarding any social sphere I am, have been or could potentially be a part of. In 2010 I plan to cut my losses, move on from acquaintances that are more trouble than they are worth, understand that no one is better or worse than the next but simply different and that differences are sometimes just a sign that despite our best efforts - or shoddy efforts, if that be the case - sometimes we just cannot get along.

This was partially inspired by a piece of technology nestled in my mom's room aka the computer room: The computer and all the things it's connected me to.

My computer has afforded me some wonderful connections. I have old classmates online, some of whom I haven't spoken to in years. Some of whom I didn't particularly care for all those years ago. The beauty of it all is that despite the fact that it once again shows my age, we've all grown and matured and lived long enough to get the hell over it. These virtual strangers have become my friends. And we would say hi to each other face to face now, all because we've made a reconnection in a more comfortable place and stuck to it.

There are very close loved ones I haven't seen in a long time and if life permitted, we'd still desperately love to live closer to one another so that sharing our lives wasn't done so over oceans and expanses of land.

There are people who live right around the corner. But life is busy. Our calender's are full. We have things pulling us in many different directions and getting together is rather difficult. So we pop in every now and then with a few taps on the keyboard or mobile, simultaneously juggling work, parenthood, marriage, etc.

In that group are friends I've never even known in real life. We found each other via the web, connected by similar lives and interests. Very few make an impact but I'm lucky to have known them.

We've developed or maintained a glimpse of our recent lives, shared in eachother's blessings and accomplishments and offered support with a few lines when life was more difficult and less joyous. We've had good conversations over a few beers, laughed at each others' jokes, stories and antics. We've mingled in groups, making our way from one person to another, making sure we've covered all of our bases.

And that's all been worth it. But that doesn't cover the acquaintances that haven't been.

Mutual interests aren't enough of a link when we are otherwise so different that whatever link we have is overshadowed by personalities that just don't mix. There are virtual connections to strangers over the Internet that sadly do nothing but reinforce every stereotype and preconceived notion we've had about "those kinds of people". There is the family we choose and the family we are born to and most of the time, the family we are born to has a natural love for us and has been given enough time to further develop that love. But sometimes we realize that blood is not strong enough to give fuel to that love. I've had co-workers who are so awesome that all others pale in comparison. We learn that that kind of connection is natural and cannot be forced. We learn that sometimes the place where we work is just that and nothing more. There are faces of the past who still live there, who have not matured enough to forget what had happened or realize that not only do those things not matter, but they never did. And of course there are those who don't meet those expectations I mentioned.

Sometimes we just move on, knowing that the connections we have are enough, knowing that we will make even more connections as we grow and live. It's a milder form of cutting ties and burning bridges. It's knowing that some things are worth the effort and others are not and in a world of over six-billion people, there are certain things that are and always will be true. No one is alone, not even those who desire nothing but solitude, as we have the influences of the many who came before us in a world shaped by people presently here. We have friends and family and all kinds of acquaintances who fill our world with experiences that would not have been possible without them. They are worth the attempt to make new connections. But when new connections don't work out, then that's okay. Look forward to the next meeting and the next person ready to contribute to your world as you contribute to theirs. But don't stress the fact that some people won't make the cut. Don't stress that sometimes you won't make theirs.

And on top of anything else, appreciate what you do have because no matter what it is, you have been blessed.

battling demons in face paint and big shoes

As children, the world is an infinite source of wonder, enhanced only as much as our imagination will allow (and children are pros at imagination, God willing). It's never a good thing when any small part of the imagination takes a negative turn and something meant to bring joy is turned into the things nightmares are made of. Life begins to suck just a little bit the moment the idea of something fun is turned into a reality that is anything but pleasant. For me, that moment happened when I was six or so and something terrible happened. I haven't been the same since. Every other part of this event is blurry to the point that I've been unable to really recall most details. All I know is that there were children and balloons, pizza and fried chicken and mojo potatoes, presents and laughter. (Yes, we were at Shakey's. Every birthday party was at Shakey's.) The entertainment arrived and he began his show. He was wobbly and I'm sure we all thought that was part of his act. That is until he wobbled one last time and collapsed. I remember gasps and screams and crying. I'm not sure I reacted aside from being scared stiff. I also remember thinking that this was the first time I had seen someone die in front of me. Turns out the clown was drunk and he passed out. And I don't mean that figuratively. It was a clown. And for all intents and purposes, a dead clown.


Thus a fear was born. It has a name but is not even recognized in psychological circles. The experts who decided that can kiss my ass. Coulrophobia is real. enough. It's real and it sucks. I've never seen It or Killer Clowns from Outer Space. I would normally love Commedia dell'arte but can't really enjoy it because of Arlecchino. Circuses freak me out. I once threatened to punch a clown who approached me while my friend tried to tell him how serious I was and talk me down at the same time. I have a visible, audible reaction to even a still picture of a clown. You have to admit that they do look fricking scary. There's a reason there are horror movies about them. So don't even go there.

And then it gets really weird.

Examining different parts of my personality, as I am wont to do, I've discovered that when it concerns moving picture and literature, aside from genre or movement, there are two recurring themes in what I like. Most often they occur separately but when they do appear in the same work together, I am usually through the roof in ecstatic fandom. Those two themes are traveling carnivals/circuses and America the 1930's. The one work that blew my mind with its awesomeness was Carnivale, an HBO series that ran for two seasons between 2003 and 2005 before being cancelled do to high costs of production even though the program was a big success from its debut. If you haven't seen it, check it out. It's breathtaking. It's flawless. It's so good that I am mentioning it in this blog entry despite the fact that it is not at all relevant.

Of course the relevant part of that tidbit is the whole carnival/circus deal. Obviously, it's because they usually have some kind of clown-like weirdo terrorizing patrons. It's a morbid fascination. A clown in any other venue is cause for a violent reaction. And even in a carnival setting, I cover my eyes and cringe (or scream) when I see a clown. But I admit that I also peak through the cracks between my fingers as tears well in my eyes. (Yes, sometimes I am close to crying. Or, again, screaming.)


And that hasn't been the only thing that seems paradoxical. More years ago than I'd like to admit, I had to think about my senior quote to appear beside my picture in the yearbook. Being someone who loves words, this was actually a very difficult decision. Nothing stood out more than others. There were many quotes I liked equally and I could have gone in any direction. As someone involved in the arts, should I use an artsy quote? Or a literary quote? Something about being a woman? Something humorous or something serious? Maybe a quote from anyone of my favorite songs or a nod to my favorite genres. I didn't do any of those things. Instead I went against my usual character and used a commercial ad from a clothing company. As a teenager who really didn't care much for fashion, it was unexpected. It was also simple. Maybe a bit trite. But it really did make sense. In seven words it said a lot about my state of mind, or at least the state of mind I convinced myself was real. Maybe not real but close enough.


It was even for a brand I didn't know anything about. I didn't own any of the label's products. I couldn't even tell you if I've ever actually seen this brand in real life. Perhaps you remember this:




That's my senior quote right there. That's a brand I am unfamiliar with. And yes, that's a clown. In a straight jacket. The message meant to be conveyed is that this clown is insane. Insanity is scary. Clowns are scary. You draw those parallels. It's not that hard to see the horror in this ad.

I cannot tell you why this happens. I cannot begin to understand why what is arguably my biggest fear keeps popping up in things I like or why they only occur in certain forms. And if I were honest with myself, the reality is that I don't like these things in spite of. I like these things because of.

It's sick and twisted but very, very common. It's the horrible accident you slow down to watch. It's scary movies and messed-up images and the knowledge that something that freaks you out so much also gets you excited. It's the adrenaline of fear. It's a naturally occurring irony that I accept even though I am not too proud to say that this fascination has not really helped me battle those demons. It has intensified my fears rather than dispel them. But I keep telling myself that it's helping me conquer those fears, anyway, even if it's a big old lie. Besides, as a parent more in touch with a sense of mortality and responsibility, I've begrudgingly retired from more dangerous adrenaline addictions and stupid antics. Perhaps my fascination with this fear and the means with which I am able to reason my way through it is all the rush I can allow, now.

And maybe one day I actually will get over my fears. Because it was pretty difficult trying to find a picture of that ad, copy, upload and position it in this entry with my eyes closed.

Twilight Madness: The New Frontier in Vampire Fan Hysteria

Cool it, Meyer fans. I'm actually speaking up for the craze this time.

I have this issue with snobbery. I like to consider myself a recovering elitist. This applies to those situations outside of human relations. I was once a music snob. I was a movie snob. That's toned down, some. But the literary snob in me is still floating there on the surface. It's a bit expected, though. Being an English Lit major, it's a an occupational hazard. And thus I was thrust into a program that often had me forgetting one half of arts and entertainment: the ENTERTAINMENT!

Whether happily or begrudgingly fed literary classics and expected to discuss and research and analyze ad nauseum, I've been trained to look for that which is hidden, things not expressed by the definitions of the parts (the words) but those hidden beneath the text in the author's subconscious. I look for things everywhere, even when it's not there. But not every dog-eared paperback tossed on to the floor from my bed has to be an in-depth study. It doesn't have to be an artistic work designed to push boundaries and ask questions and force the reader to question one's own set of morals and the life he has led. Sometimes it just has to give us a magnificent mental picture, one so vivid and so lively that there is almost no question as to what the writer wants you to see. And sometimes it just has to fit into a pattern that has been proven repeatedly to provoke a captive audience and draw us fiercely into the story that we become emotionally involved with the lives of characters who now exist in the minds of millions of strangers. There is significant artistic merit in both of those abilities.

The latter is what Meyer's books are. This is what the Twilight series was meant to do. One thing cannot be argued, no matter how unskilled of a writer she is or how trite -- or sometimes, bogus -- her ideas may be. If Meyer is anything she is a woman with a decent understanding of what young women generally want in a fantasy. Beyond that, she knew how to present this idea in a package so pretty and inviting that her influence has reaches none of us were expecting. True, this is a collection of novels that were quite obviously written in very little time, with not much thought and almost no research. More, it did scream "debut novel by an inexperienced and unlearned writer". It is brainless, effortless reading and that cannot be argued. But only the pretentious and the image-conscious are afflicted with the problem of demanding constant, elevated, cerebral stimulation. And pretentious and image-conscious are not anywhere on my list of attractive traits. Rather, I tend to believe that it's the person most secure with himself that is able to let go and accept stimuli with an open mind. Even intelligent people enjoy brainless entertainment. Sometimes it's exactly what the intellectual needs.

I have many criticisms of the books and subsequent movies, some of which are directly related to its commercially formed content and fancy packaging. The first being in that such a pretty package, it's lost all sense of reality. While it could be argued that the point of fantasy is to be an escape from reality, the fact is that in every work of fiction -- fantasy or reality-based-- the author's aim is to show a sense of humanity. That's the one part that connects the reader to the plot. All of our favorite fantasy characters, good or evil, represent some connection. Meyer's characters didn't do that for me. Their alleged love for each other was overridden by a sense of biological need devoid of actual chemistry or an attraction that makes any sort of sense. It had me questioning how deep this love would be had Edward not been a vampire and had Bella's blood not been so enticing. There was little explanation in the way of why her blood was so smelly or the fact that Edward could not read her mind, emphasizing that sense of an uncontrollable lust. Perhaps this carnal attraction was a metaphor for the emotional desire that becomes a physical need in our idea of real-life love. But her emphasis seemed misdirected and not very artistically expressed. Thus that has become my only real criticism for the works as a whole. My bottom line is that Meyer is not a skilled writer. She is, however, skilled at understanding the young female mind and that is the crux of these works.

Another criticism is the Edward and Jacob love among the female population. Going back to the target audience, I understand immediately why teenage girls developed wild crushes on these characters. Then these crushes took over an older female population and that had me a bit confused. Except, really, it's not that strange. All I need to do is catch some movies from the 90's starring Christian Slater or Stephen Dorff and I am instantly that teenage girl, semi-giddy of the men who were to be the loves of my life. It's more than a flashback. Those crushes were arguably more intense than any recent attraction to Jason Statham and Gerard Butler. And that girl is still in me somewhere. There is a part of me still attracted to Jordan Catalano (I have my own issues with strange attraction, shut up.) Besides, there is the simple fact that men seem to be above reproach when it concerns younger-than-average objects of attraction. Why shouldn't an older woman understand that draw of a young, mysterious man if for no other reason than Edward and Jacob seem to try a whole lot harder than the average grown man? Let's face it, while men love to laugh at our silly childish fantasies, the reality is that the average man could stand to learn a thing or two from Edward Cullen. As if male fantasies aren't just as silly and eye-roll worthy.

Among all of that, there seems to be one source of disfavor among the anti-Twilightians and that has to do with the theory of vampire folklore canon. This is actually the one part of the harsh criticism of Meyers' novels that I disagree with vehemently. The vampire purists are claiming that Meyers raped the image of vampires with Edward's sparkly skin and ability to love a human beyond blood-lust. They call into question how a vampire would be able to deny his own nature as what should be a predatory creature. They are disturbed with the way Meyer has changed the genre. And I say that these self-proclaimed vampire purists know very, very little about the mythos.

Vampires, as we know them, have not been around for very long. This alleged canon is barely a couple centuries old. Garlic, mirrors, graves, the ability to shapeshift into an animal, the aversion to sun, superhuman strength, all of it is a recent occurrence in a world with tales and legends that are often thousands of years old. While it is true that vampire-like creatures have existed for ages, they were hardly anything like any of the vampire characters we've seen in movies or read in books. With 19th century writers such as John Polidori and Bram Stoker, a new creature was born, one that most people associate with the notion of vampire.

So the question remains: If Stoker and Polidori and their contemporaries could change the idea of vampires, from the those that existed for centuries before, and create this brand new character that we now recognize, why can't Meyer do the same? Where do we draw the line as far as how mythos is changed? Why are there limits?

And really, are sparkly vampires that much sillier than an aristocratic Dracula? I think not.

There is, however, one thing I'd like the fans to consider when dealing with those of us who are not fans. Just keep in mind, while more mature fans probably resent being lumped into the same category as little girls with curfews and Algebra homework, we don't always like being associated with the rest of the people who dislike Twilight. Not everyone is cut from the same cloth of forced non-conformity in an attempt to be interesting. While it's pretty lame to jump on a bandwagon of trend and popularity, it's equally as lame to join the ranks of critics just because something is popular. I know that. I'm fully capable of having reasons to dislike any work of art based on my own experiences and thoughts.

So while I'll never be one willing to spend a single cent on the series or anything that comes from it, and I have no problems admitting that had I a daughter, I'd probably shield her from the Twilight mania if only to save myself from the residual exposure, and though I know that I went into reading the books and watching the movie with a full helping of skepticism, I am not above understanding the hype. I don't agree, per se. But I get it. I'd just rather return to sender after having got it.

And here I wait for a modern vampire story and movie I can actually get behind that didn't come from a comic book (Blade was truly awesome). I really appreciate the legend behind vampires and the legends that were its predecesor. I just wish that someone would put it all together in something I appreciate so I can move beyond German expressionism and find that connection I mentioned before. Because there ain't a damn person in any of my social circles that wouldn't look at me strangely as I weep and sob over an almost century-old silent film.

F.W. Murnau has some explaining to do.

Now that's what I call a vampire.

jon and kate plus eight...million

A couple years ago, the world fell in love with the Gosselins. Here was a pretty attractive couple with eight gorgeous kids living a life many of us both dread and sometimes even hope for. Many people tuned in and watched in wonder as Jon and Kate dealt with having to take care of six babies while still trying to raise their older and still rambunctious twin girls. People, those with kids and those without, cringed at the mess and stress of having so many children under one roof. Some of us got past the craziness of their house and simply saw a family that had more people to love and be loved by. And I know I wasn't the only parent out there shaking my head at the irony of having that many kids in one shot and how it often leads to endorsements and the chance to provide for that many kids, financially, while I can barely afford the two I have. No one offered me instant money. I have to provide for my family the old-fashioned way.

As we intruded on their lives, even with their permission, we got to know them more and more. And as with those on the outskirts of celebrity -- 21st century reality stars, not quite "one of us", not quite "one of them" -- while they lived publicly, they struggled publicly. All the inner workings of an everyday relationship became public access and the viewing public are given carte blanche to view, analyze and opine over what is just a slightly out of the ordinary home.

With the recent knowledge of their separation and the alleged reasons for it, a mostly adoring public became quite a savage one, picking apart every part of the Gosselin's worlds. Of course it's only natural to believe that if someone is gonna put it out there, they should expect a reaction. Their lives have been, for the most part, an open book. The Gosselins should have expected people to have strong opinions about the things they've done. However, they probably didn't expect their lives to take any of the turns they have and thus, were not prepared for the inevitable reaction.

Which begs the question: Should they have done something differently so as to avoid criticism? It's a Catch 22. If they put on a front for the public, suppressing some of the most natural emotions and instincts, wouldn't people dislike them, believing their lives to be only an act? Having remained true to a certain extent, they still were under fire by the over-zealous and highly opinionated public they invited into their homes because they believed theirs was a story worth sharing.

I'm very aware of the fact that their decision to make their lives so public was at least partially motivated by dollar signs and a more affluent lifestyle. Can we truly blame them? Consider all of us without kids or with just a few. Any extra money we bring in may be used for savings or we can choose to use that money for extravagances, large or small. But the Gosselins couldn't afford that initial luxury anyway, not with the amount of children or the occupations they had. They didn't just have eight kids spaced out throughout the years. That's the cost of taking care of a baby multiplied by eight, all in one shot. This is in addition to how much it costs to make room for that many children. Even if the Gosselins intended to use the promise of money for luxury, how can anyone be so naive or judgmental as to not understand the lure of financial stability not just for their family, now, but for their family as they grow?

Beyond that, the Gosselins were criticized for many other things. The first started with the very conception of both their children and the program. They and others who use fertility treatments when they cannot have children in what is considered the "natural" way, offend many people who believe that their decision goes against nature and/or God. Many people believe that with so many unwanted children in this world, it's selfish to go to such extents to have a biological child when they could have spent that money trying to adopt a child who desperately needs a home. I wonder how such people forget how profound it is to have a child that has genetic connection to his or her parent. I wonder how they can ignore the many couples in this world who want to share their love by creating a human being that is the personification of that couple's love to one another. I wonder why they don't consider the pain of women who have had what they considered their God-given right taken away. Children who are adopted through any means are most often just as much a part of their families as natural children would be. However, expecting any person to gladly give up their right to have their own biological children is ludicrous and unfeeling. The cruel irony of those opposed to fertility treatment is that while they believe such parents are being apathetic about the many children who exist who need good homes, the same opposition is being heartless toward the parents who desperately want biological children of their own, ones they've felt a bond with from conception.

We've also viewed a woman become slightly unhinged at times. Kate got herself a bad reputation as being an over-bearing, obsessive control freak who mistreated her softer-spoken husband and viciously restricted her many children. The woman has eight kids who are all very close in age. We were not watching some seasoned mother raise the tenth child of a long line of offspring that range in ages from adulthood to infancy. Eight small children under one roof with only one set of parents. That is a serious situation that would test the most calm, cool-headed person. Of course she's controlling! She has to be! I lose my mind rather often with just my two. I've resorted to begging. I've kicked toys around the house while others could have sworn they saw my clothes threatening to rip over skin that was expanding and quickly turning green. Let's not even get into my losing my cool when dealing with my husband.

And when their lives started to fall apart, when two people who once loved each other deeply started buckling under the pressure of that many children, that much stress, that much scrutiny and that little privacy, it became even more fodder for those who love nothing more than to ignore their own lives to find fault in everyone else's. As if they were the first couple in the history of the world to find themselves falling out of love with a person who was changing too quickly to keep up with, or to be too consumed with stress to show love and affection, or to concentrate too much on their kids that they lose sight of the person who they made those kids with, or to find themselves moving on and finding solace and comfort in someone who wasn't too busy, selfish or short-sighted to show love, we thought we knew so much more about the Gosselins than they knew about themselves. We knew more about how to make marriages work just as we knew more about how to properly raise that many children.

And then, by far, the worst example of this type of scrutiny are those comments made by the media-mongers, the people who are in the very business that promotes such an open-door policy to the Gosselins' lives. With the recent news of Jon allegedly stealing money from their account, he came out with proof that he was innocent. And as he sat at a table with four of those media-mongers, Bethenny Frankel, another pseudo-celeb who lived her life in the public eye, had the audacity to criticize him for doing so in public. Why no one pointed out that woman's sheer stupidity is beyond me. How she could sit there, invited to give her opinion on what would normally be a private situation, and criticize the person who gave her the opportunity to be there, making money off of someone else's pain, is one of the most obvious examples of what morons people can be. Though, to be fair, it's not like Frankel was ever accused of having a triple digit IQ.

Let's not even get into Nancy Grace and her BS. I don't care what kind of experience she has or where she's gotten the idea that she has a brain worth sharing. Right, viewers gave her that idea. Viewers also made Perez Hilton a celebrity and had Jerry Springer as the reigning king of TV for a while. The woman didn't even know what a bankers box was.

I understand that a big part of the concern is about the kids. They will probably never have normal lives. They clearly won't be living the ideal. But why stop there? Why stop at criticizing Jon and Kate for the lives they've delivered their children as though they are being selfish? What about the many other parents who aren't giving their children ideal lives? Parents who have busy occupations. Parents who have dangerous occupations. Mothers who choose to work instead of stay home with their kids. Aren't they equally selfish? Are soldiers wrong for being parents? Look at famed politicians' children. Should the President be denied the right of being a parent? Should anyone in the public eye be denied?

What will everyone say when those kids grow up to be well-adjusted and happy despite the scrutiny? And there's one thing that people are missing. Those kids have each other. Eight children going through the same thing together, a ready-made support system. That gives me a least a little hope. Though once again, Jon and Kate aren't the only ones potentially hurting those children, are they? If you find it unpalatable for parents to submit their children to such a life, wouldn't it make infinitely more sense to not be a part of that life? Wouldn't it be smarter to not give your own very public opinion? Seems to me that the harsh words of the media stand to hurt those children much more than anything the parents are capable of doing.

Whatever the lives any of the Gosselins live, publicly or privately, they only have to answer to each other, their loved ones and, yeah, the legal team helping each person handle such affairs. None of us will ever truly understand the lives they live. None of us will ever truly understand how they feel. It's the height of ignorance to assume we know more about anything, from their lives before, to the lives they lead now, to the potential of that life in any direction in the future.

Everyone has opinions and we are certainly entitled to our feelings. Apathy is not often considered a preferable trait. Opinions are one thing. Entitlement is another thing, entirely. And one of us are entitled to know better than the Gosselins are. Especially when none of us have ever lived their lives or one even remotely the same.