Seven things.

Passed on from Robust, damn his hide:

Seven things to do before I die

  1. Hop the pond. Multiple times, obviously, since foreign worlds can’t all be seen in one go.
  2. Retire from work and spend the days puttering around the house/commune/woodshop, giving young whippersnappers sage advice (due to my wisdom at venerated age, naturally).
  3. Form a commune. I want to live amongst my dearest friends when I’m old, the same way I did when I was young. Like bookends on my life. Cheaper and safer than a rest home, too. Who says family can’t be created instead of born?
  4. Fall in love again. It was fun, those times, and having some more of The Secks™ might be nice too. Y’know, in theory. Since I don’t recall so much the practice.
  5. Put on a real haunted house. Each year we do Halloween, but it’s really just a decorated version of our place, not a storybook journey with actors and plot. It would be awesome to do the whole deal. A grand entrance and introduction, a party game of some sort (like a murder mystery or horror movie happening), and a resolution—a grand finale, as it were. It would take a lot of work and require a lot of other people.
  6. Write a book that I like when it’s finished.
  7. Knit myself a sweater that I love out of yarn I adore. And never give it away.

Seven things I cannot do

  1. Sing. My fingers are highly-skilled instruments. Vocal cords? Not so much. Karaoke is a spectator sport.
  2. Play the piano. I should have specified: my fingers are highly skilled instruments of geekitude. They can’t play a note. Damn fingers.
  3. Forgive and forget. Sometimes I can manage one or the other, but never both. I bear grudges when affronts are grudge-worthy, and sometimes when they’re really not. I could sometimes forgive when I don’t, but I wouldn’t want to Sunshine Spotless Mind it all away. Too creepy.
  4. Rice and biscuits. The simple preparation of these two southern staples eludes me.
  5. Clowns. They’re not really smiling under all that makeup. Weird fact: I love the circus. Forget sitting ringside, of course, but the rest of it’s cool.
  6. Hair, makeup, and fashion. I watch What not to wear, but it just doesn’t seem to rub off. I think I’d actually have to (a) care and (b) shop without dressing-room-rage. So not worth it.
  7. Back down when I [think I] am right. It’s been said that I am terribly tenacious. Sometimes this is advantageous. Sometimes it is not.

Seven things that attract me to blogging

  1. Blogs got some funny shit. A skilled comedic voice can carry even the most mundane material. Some of my favorite blog writers are tackling subjects I’d normally not have an interest in; it’s their wit that makes me come back regularly. I’m thinking of Dooce or finslippy (both mommy blogs, of a sort) or blogjam, a cooking/travel missive, or Tucker Max (Sure, he’s an ass, but a damn talented one. Despite the horribly cruel things he says and does… I find myself laughing. Then wanting him dead. Then laughing.). Treasure in the dime-a-dozen bin.
  2. The hope that it would answer the question, “Can I write?” Not for grades, not for family/friends, but can I actually write things that people who don’t know me would read, for pleasure? I’m not sure this is a hope fulfilled, since things get a bit incestuous and you’re fabulous-no YOU’RE fabulous out here. So it’s hard to know.
  3. Knowledge is a currency in society. Watching the way technology changes human relationships is fascinating. You can meet people who literally have their entire life stories online. How does that change what it means to “get to know” someone? Is it why I’ve never known my neighbors the way my parents did? Groups now form without regard for race, size, geography, income bracket. Do you have to F2F to be a real friend? Do you “know” someone just by reading their blog? I believe you can. I believe blogs are the fantastical stories of everyday people. Like novels, only real. And there’s crossover between the “worlds.” Where does it lead? Hell if I know, but the ride should be fun.
  4. I’m an information junkie. Hearing the voices of the franchised press is important, but I think the radical voices of the new press is also worth my while.
  5. Blogs as art. Like Postsecret, Royal Remarkable™ or Hungry Photographer or You knit what? or Something Positive. Video, audio, scribbles, cartoons, paintings… whatever.
  6. It’s a place to put stuff. Bonus: easier to store than notebooks; not as susceptible to flood or fire.
  7. And, duh, because I’m narcissistic. That’s a given.

Seven things I say most often

  1. Unfortunately: Dude. I am neither from California nor a surfer. I don’t know why it ended up in my vocabulary with such frequency. I blame the movies. And college.
  2. Now. I constantly use it as an adjective. I know because I find myself constantly editing it out. Now, that’s just wrong. Grrr.
  3. Grrr. Variable number of rs, of course, but the tiny note of frustration is due to Buffy—with or without the following ‘argh.’ Thanks, Joss Whedon.
  4. That’s retarded. Another linguistic bad habit I’m trying to break. I think it happened after I read the the tard blog, also known as reason #2456 that I’m going directly to Hell.
  5. Does that make sense? I used this phrase so much, I had it levelled against me during an evaluation (it indicated I wasn’t secure enough in my own decisions). Too bad I hadn’t read about gender-based linguistics back then. Apparently that particular phrase is high on the list of things women say that are often misunderstood by men because of differences in communication style. Consensus, Mars, solutions, Venus. Etc.
  6. Eh? General word of confusion or puzzlement or deafness. Facial expression is fairly required for proper translation.
  7. Get down. Get down get down getdown. Getdown! To the cat. Who likes counter-surfing.

Seven books pieces of literature I love

  1. A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle I love all the books in this series dearly (and violently, since at least 2 of the copies I own are falling to pieces with use), but this is my favorite. I was always enthralled with the horse Gaudior and with Ananda (which is incidentally the perfect name for a yellow lab). I met L’Engle once, when she gave a talk, and she was as delightful a lady as her books are stories.
  2. King Lear by William Shakespeare Witches, portents, and crazy people. Woo!
  3. Brave New World by Aldus Huxley World-rocking pessimism. In the hands of a blonde high school senior, it’s a weapon of irrefutable goth-ness.
  4. Sandman by Neil Gaiman The combination of Neil’s fantastical stories and various artists’ penwork thrills me every time I pull one from the shelf.
  5. Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll Love the verse, love the tales. Want a Cheshire Cat.
  6. The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot Surreal. Beautiful. Perplexing.
  7. Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls I must have read this book hundreds of times, from childhood till now. Still makes me bawl like it did when I was ten.

Seven movies I watch over and over again

  1. The Princess Bride This is on everyone’s list, for obvious reasons. “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” I can, in fact, repeat large chunks of dialogue verbatim from this film, but I will resist the urge to do so.
  2. Platoon Seems like a weird choice for me, but Platoon is in fact my favorite movie of all time. The symphony that plays as Elias is killed gets me every time. Best place I’ve ever heard it? As between-set music at a Cure show.
  3. The Lord of the Rings trilogy Some of the best movies ever made. I think it’s beautiful how Peter Jackson turned his love for Tolkien’s world into these vivid, gorgeous films. And like I re-read the novels every so often, the films enjoy repeated viewings and make great background noise for creative projects.
  4. Willy Wonka/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Two-for-one here. I’ve really only seen the newer version a couple of times, but once was enough to know I should own it, and I watched it again within a week. The ‘71 Wilder version I’ve seen several times, especially since it’s been playing recently on TV. Simply delightful, regardless of production era.
  5. Bleeders It’s the worst B-movie horror flick ever made, and I must inflict it on people over and over again due to its sheer insanity.
  6. Rocky Horror Picture Show It was less a movie than a weekly engagement, really. Watching the film at home on TV just seems to lack some… drama. (Read: nekkidness)
  7. Baraka/Koyaanisqatsi/Powaqqatsi/Naqoyqatsi Eye-candy. In the same category, though it’s a feature film: What Dreams May Come.

NEW! Seven things about [holiday of choice] that were really cool

So I couldn’t resist adding my own 7×7, since really there’s only 6 questions, with the 7th being an administrative function to aid in meme reproduction.

Also, this is a writing assignment my mom gave her kids during the holidays. Mom, ever the cynic, said that the responses she got, in some cases, moved her almost to tears. From some people, this wouldn’t be very impressive. Mom, however—not much of a crier, see also cynic.

Her responses were from 2nd graders, so perhaps it won’t translate to adults. And mom did say she got a laundry list of expensive gifts from some of her kids. But I’m curious. What do you have to be thankful for from the holidays? It could be from the last 30 days or 30 years ago; something you got or something you did.

And: Audience participation. All you strangers (and friends) reading along: post your answer to this question in the comments (or linkback or whatever). Link to your full set of 7×7 from it. I wanna see what we got. (Note: we probably got stupid spam bots and search bots, but whatever. Let me revel in my nascent noteriety, ok?)

Not-so-straightaway, but here’s my 7 things I love about the holidays:

  1. Roasted beast with mushroom gravy and red rice, my favorite meal of all time. That I now get to help make major portions of. Without supervision. Cause I’m trusted in my mother’s kitchen. Highest of all maternal culinary honors.
  2. Making my mom so happy just by having the “kids” (and the “grandkids”) all under one roof for a night. Weird as it is to sleep back there in that tiny bed, to play Trivial Pursuit at the kitchen table, to fight over the remote… it’s nice, too.
  3. Turning the Christmas Bear upside down. I’m sure the symbolism is pure irony, but my brother and I have a long-standing feud over our family’s secular Advent calendar. I turn the little bear marker up on its head, my sibling protests loudly and straightens it. Hilarity ensues. We never tire of this game.
  4. Trees. My family’s tree is filled with memories, and mine is certainly well on its way to that sort of collection. And the process of finding it can be delightful.
  5. Our mandatory vacation On a completely selfish note, my company gives us the week between Christmas and New Years off. I look forward to this vegetatitive period all year long. It is a week of sloth and video games, gatherings with friends and loved ones, and cookies. Lots and lots of cookies.
  6. Buying presents. I love playing Santa. I’m terrible at restraint, and occasionally completely kooky with my choices, but I love the delight on someone’s face when you gift them with something wickedly clever.
  7. Rigging up the lights. The tackier the better. I drive around for hours around the holidays getting ideas and going to see old favorites. And, now, spend hours putting out our own display.

Seven people to whom I pass this meme

  1. bwb, because he loves making lists of things (almost as much as K who has already been tagged. Drat.).
  2. ireaa, because she hasn’t been tagged and I know she’ll spread it around, the ho.
  3. noreally, because he would be jealous if I tagged L without tagging him, and because maybe he’ll post in his blog again.
  4. Mr. Saturday, because he too hasn’t posted in aaaaaages. (He posted before I got this post posted. Drat.)
  5. Samiam, because she can use it as a writing exercise.
  6. That guy I saw walking his dog this afternoon, because I can’t think of anybody.
  7. Anyone else who wants it. I’m not very good at this viral marketing concept, I see.

2 responses to “Seven things.”

  1. brian Says:

    My seven. Your comment space is really teeny. It makes my handwriting appear large.

  2. brian Says:

    I moved it. My seven in a new location.

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