Ok, I know for the last couple of weeks I've reneged on my promise to include a top ten list on my blog every week. And I did have one started two weeks ago about places I wanted to visit and why, but it really seemed so futile, I decided to scrap the list for a later date. Instead.... I realized last night that over the years I have started many a journal--not including my blog--and have never followed through with my intentions to put in writing my deepest, darkest secrets. I believe the reason I've faltered in my conviction to keep a diary is that I've been much too honest in my life. People have told me that I'm a mystery, but I cannot possibly see how this is true. I've held nothing back about who I am, what I am, what I love, what I hate, etc. And to be truthful, there is always a fear that if I write something revealing about myself, someone will find it, judge me, and my entire world will blow up in my face. This scenario actually cuts pretty close to the bone. My real problem is that I need to write. There is something that tugs at me, urging me to delve deep within myself and the only way I can understand myself is if I write it down. And I've discovered that I need to know that someone, anyone, might read it. I don't just write for myself--which is cathartic, don't get me wrong--but I write hoping to find an audience. I'm an isolated creature. Not in the sense that I'm anti-social, but in the sense that I feel alone in the world. I reach out to others and others reach out to me, but I feel so often as if I'm frantically grasping at straws to find a connection. Even with the people with whom I'm most intimate, I cannot fully express myself, be myself. This is why I write. I become an anonymous voice hoping that someone out there will read it and understand. We had a visitor this weekend. We were all out to dinner and this person made a comment (a sneer) about Jewish people. I was so offended. I knew I was within my right to counter the bigoted statement and state my disgust with her myopic viewpoint, but I held my tongue. Why? Out of respect? Why should I respect such a person--even if she is my elder? Out of politeness? She threw politeness out the window with her own statement. Fear. Utter fear. Fucking unbelievable that I should be afraid to stand up for what's right. I'm ashamed of myself and hope that when presented the opportunity again that I will have the courage to speak my mind. In that moment, I felt utterly alone. I felt that my world was populated with people with whom I could never relate. I wanted to break out. Seek out a world in which I knew I'd find others like me. Others who would encourage me to be myself and whom I could admire for their tenacity and fortitude. I thought I was such a person. I guess I was wrong. This is why I write. To examine my life and my choices. To ascertain things about myself and why I do certain things, believe certain things. And to learn from my mistakes so that next time I will conquer my fear and become that honest person again who holds nothing back and doesn't need to write anymore.

Well, I just finished another book last night as required for the new book club I've joined and as is my custom, I'm here to report on it. Ken Follett's lengthy A World Without End, while not a masterpiece in literary rendition is still quite entertaining. I read the 1000 + book in less than a week so that seems to prove that it was far from tiresome. I've come to realize that for purely entertainment purposes, Ken Follett's novel is just the sort I tend to turn to. It's an historical fiction set in the mid 14th century. The story focuses on the lives of several characters in the made-up town of Kingsbridge, England. The reader is thoroughly informed of medieval architecture, religious practices and beliefs, and trade customs all while being drawn into the lives of peasants, noblemen, smiths and craftsmen, and the clergy. And while the characters might appear superficial at first, over time they become much more fleshed out and believable. Of course there are the clear-cut villains and heroes as is typical with "supermarket" fiction, but I found that I didn't entirely sympathize with the plight of the "good guys." In fact, for the first half of the book, I was quite annoyed with the two main characters, Caris and Merthin. The lovers are doomed due to both fate and themselves. They hit obstacle after obstacle and just when they seem to overcome one hardship one of them throws a wrench into the mess. They just can't get their shit together! I did enjoy that Caris refused to fall into the traditional role of the subservient housewife, but oftentimes, she seemed to take her liberal stance a bit too far. Sometimes I wanted to strangle her. And Merthin is mostly an intelligent, morally sound man but he is so easily reduced to a male bawd at the sexual whims of any attractive female. Something I really enjoyed about the book was the detail in which things such as architecture and construction were explained. Follett did an incredible amount of research in order to convey not just the appearance but structure of churches and bridges of the times. The reader also learns of wool making and dying and medieval medical procedures. There is also a fair amount of sex, which in my opinion, aids in making a good book even better. Finishing a book like this is always difficult for me. I become so engrossed in the characters, story, setting, etc. that I hate to let it go. I don't like to move on. I just want to keep reading about them. It doesn't happen often so when it does, I know something magical has happened.

In honor of my present reading material, The Professor and the Madman, this week's top ten list will address my favorite words. My reasons for choosing these words vary. Some I like simply for the way they sound. Others I chose for their definitions. Others are chosen due to the fact that their sounds and their meanings don't coincide. In no particular order, because it is just too difficult to decide, here they are: 10. ratiocination (n.)--To reason methodically and logically. I first heard this word as an English Literature student in reference to Milton's "Paradise Lost". I fell in love with this word, not just for the meaning, but for the fact that if you throw this word into everyday conversation, you tend to get some strange looks. 9. mellifluous (adj.)--Having a smooth, rich flow. The word itself is indeed mellifluous. It really just rolls off the tongue. Perhaps I like it because I myself never speak in a mellifluous manner, but rather more staccato, which is also a great word, but didn't make it onto the list. 8. philology(n.)--The study of literature and of disciplines relevant to literature or to language as used in literature. I, in fact believe myself to be somewhat of a philologist. That is, something more than a linguist (which I'm surely not), more than a theorist, and more than a lover of literature. It is all of those things. And it is fun to say. 7. lugubrious (adj.)--1. Mournful; indicating sorrow, often in a way that seems feigned, exaggerated, or ridiculous. 2. Gloomy; dismal. Just saying this word puts me in a lugubrious mood.  6. quixotic (adj.)--1. Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; idealistic without regard to practicality. 2. Capricious; impulsive. Another word that is fun to say, it is almost a complete antithesis to the concept of "ratiocination". I wish I were more quixotic. 5. ju-ju (n.)--1. An object superstitiously believed to embody magical powers. 2. The power associated with a juju. I don't believe any comment is necessary. It's just a great word. 4.  vex (v.)to irritate, annoy, provoke.  I'm often vexed.  Not by life's usual predicaments, but by my own actions and reactions to those predicaments. 3. doppleganger (n.)--1. A ghostly double or counterpart of a living person. 2. Alter ego; double. Mostly, I love the idea of a doppleganger. So many literary works address this notion and I find it fascinating. I could have a second self wandering about the planet. How delicious it would be to meet such a person. I'd probably kill him or her. 2. cacophony (n.)--Harsh or discordant sound; dissonance. A fun word to say and actually not at all cacophonous when heard. 1. gravitas (n.)--high seriousness. I actually have to say this word with a gravelly voice. And slow: "graveeetaaas". This was a difficult list and one that is constantly in transition.

A Few of My Favorite Things... As promised, my top ten list for this week will include my favorite things. This doesn't mean my favorite song, my favorite movie, etc. It means the random things in which I take pleasure. This has been quite a tour de force in self-exploration. I had to really dig deep within myself to figure out what it is that I truly love and appreciate about life. Here goes: 10. Hats. I'm a hat girl. I have 'em all...newsboys, trilbys, baseball caps, cowboy hats, santa caps, fishing caps, players, collettes, and spays. And I wear them. That is the key. You can't have a collection of such adornments and not adorn. 9. In the same vein, I have a proclivity for collecting and wearing scarves. However, this does not extend into what the French call "foulards". That is to say, no silky, gauzy neck scarves for the summer. ONLY long winter wrap around scarves that keep me toasty...even indoors. 8. There is something both eerie and peaceful about a solitary late night drive through the desert. It took me a while to figure out that it was a favorite thing, but I love the night, I love to drive fast with no traffic around and I do enjoy being alone so there it is. 7. The soft tickling of grass under my feet and between my toes. I definitely live in the wrong place for such a favorite feeling, but every time I see a healthy blanket of green, I feel compelled to take off my shoes and indulge myself 6. I live for stormy, dark, nippy, grey, foggy days. Again, living in the wrong place for that. Perhaps that's why I love them so much. 5. Oh how I melt at the sexy sounds of a muted trumpet. And yet the the soulful resonance of a clarinet makes me question my choice for #8. Let's just leave it at really great sensual jazz melodies. 4. The smell of figs. It's absolutely the best perfume in the world. Yes, fresh baked bread, chocolate and rose petals are all nice, but nothing compares to that of a fig. 3. Breaking the rules once in a while. This is a tough one to explain. It doesn't mean breaking the law or anything that drastic, but it means doing something naughty or being unexpected. For example, laughing when you're not supposed to. I would always laugh in church. I would have terrible fits that I would have to stifle but I look back on it now and I get a kick out of such instances. But what I really mean by this is being myself. People look at me and expect one thing and if they were to stick around to observe the "real" me, they would get something quite different. I know I come off as youthful, classy, refined, serious and aloof. And perhaps I am those things, but I'm also a pretty chill chica who can cuss like a sailor when angry, listens to hard rock music, and can burp like nobody's business. So my 3rd favorite thing is not fitting into the box. 2. My blanket. I sleep with my childhood blanket. I cannot be without it. I had it the day I came home from the hospital almost 32 years ago and I will have it until the day I die. Just call me Linus. 1. I had honestly thought my blanket would be my first favorite, but I re-evaluated my choice and I have to go with....dreams. I love dreaming. I don't care if it's a good dream, a bad dream, a sexy dream, a scary dream, a recurring dream, a dream about the past or a dream about the future. It can be about something that has happened, something I fear happening or something I wish would happen. The thing about them is that no matter what they are about, they always reveal more about to myself. If it's a great sexy dream, I can savor it for days to come. If it's a tragic depressing dream, I can breathe a sigh of relief that it isn't real. I know that this is further evidence to the fact that I'm an escapist, someone who prefers a chimerical world over the practical world. But it's what keeps me going. I'm a pragmatist by day, so my nights are spent in fantasy. So, there it is, my top ten for the week. The lists, I'm sure will become less profound and more frivolous.

Today was a bad day and I just need to vent. Sometimes we all just need to vent to someone and this is my "someone". Some people vent to others and receive sound advise, words of wisdom, or perhaps just an understanding ear. Me? I rely on myself and my writing to ground me. Maybe Friday the 13th really is a cursed day. Maybe I'm just emotional right now. I'll be brief as I hadn't planned on writing today. What set this horrible day in motion is that my dog had to go to the vet today. We discovered Tuesday that Dante's brow above his left eye had swollen quite a bit and we thought that he and our other dog, Moses, had gotten a little rough. His face continued to swell and we knew that he had been bitten by something. It turns out he was bitten by some sort of spider, but the vet had thought it was a snake at first. We are so lucky that Dante didn't die. Thank God he's young and healthy. Relationships with pets are strange. You never really realize how much they mean to you until they are gone. Here are my beautiful boys (Dante on the left with the white patch and Moses on the right:

And here is a computer painting I did of them:

These computer paintings have become one of my favorite hobbies. I do them on an internet site. I started doing them a few months ago and I'm addicted. I hadn't done any in a while because I couldn't get into the site, but now that I'm back online, I'm doing a bunch. I love my boys. Aren't they cute? Even if they're blue....

This blog is going to be about movies. I know I usually write about books, but movies seem to be more accessible to most people. My inspiration for this blog comes from one movie in particular. Last night I watched "Lars and the Real Girl". It is exactly the kind of film I love. Lars is very much a person "on the outside", as I like to call it. He is not "normal" or in any way conventional. But what the fuck? Who is? That's my philosophy anyway. The thing is, people are so scared by the abnormal. They are so quick to label different as crazy. If that were the case, I would've been committed a long time ago. I enjoy the quirks in people. I enjoy the beauty of those who are unique, who catch you off guard, who are so very unexpected. So Lars, in all of his oddity and "insanity" finds that people really do love him and are willing to accommodate those endearing quirks. If only humanity were really so compassionate, accepting, kind and altruistic. This film gives me hope that there will be people who watch the film and open their minds and hearts and stop judging based on their own fears. And who would've thought Ryan Gosling would become one of the best actors of our time? Just wow. And any movie with Patrica Clarkson is not to be missed. That woman has so much class and I swear I could just listen to her talk all day. What a wonderful, rich soothing voice she has. In ways, "Lars.." reminds me of "Juno". I hadn't known what to expect about "Juno" and didn't think I was a big fan of Ellen Page, but I fell in love with the movie and with her. In ways (aside from the pregnancy) Juno reminds me of myself when I was a teenager. She's quirky, yet accepted; ostracized yet admired; too mature for her own good; gives off the air of not caring what others think, yet deep down wishing to be understood. It's refreshing to see that such a small, offbeat little film can really make it big and find a large audience amongst all the grotesque Hollywood blockbusters churned out by the large studios every year. Thank God for films like these and the people who make them. I also recently watched "Mad Money" and "P.S. I Love You" and really enjoyed them both. Diane Keaton in "Mad Money" is hilarious and I do love me some Queen Latifa. What a beauty she is! As for "P.S. I Love You", I cried. I can't believe I cried! I never cry in films, but it sort of reminded me of my own life: A wonderful man who loves his wife so much even though she may not think she deserves such love. She struggles with the idea that he was always the "perfect" one, the one who everyone liked and she was always the stick in the mud. And when she loses him, she realizes that she might not have let him know how much she loved him and appreciated him. I love Gerard Butler. He is on my list of sexiest men in Hollywood and of course Hillary Swank is flawless as usual. It's a cute film, moving, yet not overly sentimental. I recommend. Which brings me to my lists....I love lists. I love people who love lists. Here are two lists of films I recommend. Best Film Per Decade 1920s: "The Big Parade" 1925. I discovered this film a few years ago when I got really into silents and pre-code films. It stars John Gilbert (Garbo's former flame) as an American soldier fighting in WWI. He meets a young French woman, the adorable Renee Adoree, and falls in love. What I so love about this film (besides my obsession with all things WWI) is the subtle acting on Gilbert's part. What he does so well is bring a quietness of emotion and subtlety to his acting that was so abnormal for silent films. Acting had to be big and emotive in order to make up for the lack of dialogue, but Gilbert is so natural, not to mention handsome. And I'm blown away at the cinematic scope of the film and special effects. Such shots could be found in films today and still not carry the impact they do in a film made 80 years ago. 1930s: "Gone With the Wind" 1939. Of course I have to choose this film as it truly may be the best movie ever made. For so long, I've thought "Camille" with Greta Garbo was the best 30s film, but I have to consider the film as a whole and not just the acting (of which Garbo is sublime in this film). The problem is, the script and cinematography just don't compare to that of the Margaret Mitchell adaptation. And Vivien Leigh is indeed phenomenal as Scarlet. I can literally watch that movie once a week and still love it every bit as the first time I ever saw it. It's truly an epic film and should not be missed. 1940s: This is difficult. There are so many great films of the 40s. But, as with GWTW, I chose a movie of which I never tire: "The Philadelphia Story" 1941. With a stellar cast of Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart, it is utterly flawless. The hilarity of the script and acting tends to overshadow the fact that the movie is actually beautifully filmed. The black and white seems ethereal in its quality. The camera work and lighting should not be taken for granted as they are masterful. 1950s: Hands down "Some Like it Hot" 1959. Funniest Movie EVER! There are just too many great things about this movie. It must be viewed several times in order for all the subtle innuendo to be recognized. It really pushed the envelope with that script. And Jack Lemmon...what can I say? I actually don't know if I enjoy him as a comedian or a dramatist better, but this is by far his loveliest performance. 1960s: "Sound of Music" 1965/"West Side Story" 1961. This truly is a toss up. Both musicals are too fantastic. The thing is, I love both movies for the same reasons. The music never gets old (there's actually one song in each I don't care for. SOM: "Climb Every Mountain". WSS: "Cool Boy"). They are both light-hearted and funny in parts, but also deeply dramatic and disturbing. Great acting. I do have to say though...as much as I love Natalie Wood, I don't like her as a Puerto Rican lipsynching to operatic musical ballads. So, whereas SOM wins a point in the acting department, WSS trumps the other in choreography. With performers like Russ Tamlyn and Rita Moreno in WSS, there is no comparison for the dancing in SOM. Best musical number--SOM: "Sixteen Going on Seventeen". WSS: "America". Hmmm.... I just realized, both characters named "Maria" have a song named after them. 1970s: I hate the 70s in terms of film. This was tough because I pretty much skip that decade when I watch movies. I hate doing this, but I'm gonna have to go with "The Godfather Part II" 1974. I'm a much bigger fan of DeNiro that Pacino and since DeNiro is the star of Part II, I must choose it. Plus, I really enjoy the early life of Vito in the 20s and all the the Sicilian landscape and language of II. 1980s: "E.T." 1982. This movie just holds so many special memories for me that it's really more of a sentimental pick than anything. Although, it was quite innovative film making for the time, so it does have many qualities of a truly great film. I recently watched it with all my nieces and nephew an it was so wonderful to watch their first reactions to the story as well. I shall never forget it. 1990s: "Silence of the Lambs" 1991. Yes. I'm a sicko. I'm actually obsessed with this film. I was 15 when it came out and everyone started telling me I looked like Jodie Foster. That was just the beginning of many years to follow of people telling me I was her twin, requesting that I say "Doctor Lecter" in that backwoods Virginian accent and asking for my autograph. I still get it sometimes today, but not as much as back then. I never saw the resemblance, although I'm beginning to now ( I do see the Natalie Wood resemblance though). Anyway, back to the film. I don't even need to mention the acting, which is superb. This film, in all it's aspects captures the creepiness of insanity. I don't think of it as a traditional horror flick because it never goes for the cheap/gory thrill. The horror of the film is not in the grotesque fantastical manioc killing of random people (as in "Friday the 13th" or "Nightmare on Elm Street" films and their ilk) but in the shocking reality that this sort of thing does happen in real life. That people are monsters and many walk around this earth among us as if life is not sacred. 2000s: Although the decade is not over, I wonder if there will be a film that can live up to "Moulin Rouge!" 2001. Baz Luhrmann is the ultimate film maker and this is the ultimate film. It has everything and encompasses the audience in it's storytelling. Comedy, tragedy, romance, music, great costumes, great acting, great sets, clever dialogue and references, special effects, beautiful lighting and cinematography. It is the epitome of a spectacle and it is spectacular. Some people are put off by it at first because the beginning is so over the top, quirky, fast-paced and confusing, but that is exactly what is needed to convey the mood of the times. Turn of the century in Paris was all of those things. And it's as if Luhrmann dares his audience to stick with him through the journey on which he is about to take you. And stick with it you must, because it is worth it. Ok, that's that list. Now a brief list of my favorite foreign films in order to No. 1. I'm not an avid viewer of foreign films, but I do watch them more than the average Joe and these are the best--in my opinion. 10. Jules et Jim (France 1962) /Les Diaboliques (France 1955) toss up. 9. The Piano Teacher (France 2001) /Swimming Pool (France 2003) 8. 8 Femmes (France 2002) 7. Nathalie...(France 2003) 6. Cinema Paradiso (Italy 1990) 5. Don't Tempt Me (France/Spain/Italy/Mexico 2001) 4. Trois Coleurs: Rouge (France 1994) 3. A Very Long Engagement (France 2004) 2. Life is Beautiful (Italy 1997) 1. Malena (Italy 2000) And since I love lists so much, I will be including a top ten list every week in my blog. :)

I realized that I got so wrapped up in the Literature and penny finding stuff in my post yesterday that I hardly included any "life" stuff. I'm just so excited to be back on the computer, since I've had absolutely no access to it for over a month. Ah! I can breathe again. Just kidding. I've actually been occupying my time with much more productive projects. I'm reading more, doing more crossword puzzles, going on bike rides, attending a Bible study and a book club, hence, the reading more. So, as I mentioned, I just got back from a trip to Cleveland. Although non-Clevelanders enjoy referring to my hometown as "The Mistake on the Lake", I must ask of such nay-sayers, "Have you ever been there?" I love Cleveland. There are so many wonderful things about the city. I'm actually from a suburb called South Euclid, which is about 30 minutes south of downtown. The outer parts of Cleveland like Cleveland and University Heights, Shaker, and Chagrin are so charming and truly beautiful. While I was there, the weather was warming up and the landscape was lush and green. Flowers were in bloom, there was a slight breeze, and the air smelled fresh and floral. Here in AZ, there is nothing like it. Sure, we have trees and plants and flowers, but there are no rolling hills of grass or the occasional deer that passes through one's back yard. True story: The house where we stayed is in a suburban neighborhood, but there are woods behind the house. On my last day there, I enjoyed watching a family of deer as they walked through the yard and the youngest decided to take a long nap under the tree just outside the window. During my 10 day trip, we took a drive out to the lake and enjoyed the sounds and smells of the surf. It was such a peaceful, restful day, a nice break from all the hustle and bustle of reuniting with family and friends. My family also took a trip to Little Italy. Back at the turn of the 20th century, my great-grandfather (my grandmother's dad) was quite a wealthy businessman in Cleveland. He owned an apartment building which still stands today. Here are my mom and me in front of it: Once my brother arrived in town, we made our way down to the "Flats" for the annual Rib Cook Off. That night, we took in an Indians game as we are all huge fans. We also spent a thrilling and exhausting day at Cedar Point. As I mentioned before, it was exhilirating to become a kid again, but it really took a beating on my body and by the end of the day, I could barely move. And even though I'm still recovering a week later, it was totally worth it. Brandon and I had a lovely dinner at Pier W, the coolest restaurant in Cleveland. It actually hangs out over the cliff and the whole restaurant is windows so you can view the water, the boats, the Cleveland skyline, etc. And the food is to DIE for. Of course I have to plug the best pizza place in the COUNTRY, my Aunt Frannie's famous Italian Restaurant, Geraci's. People travel far and wide for her pizza, have in Fed-Exed to them across country and rave about it to friends in other states. Of course we had a couple meals there and I gained some weight just from her pizza alone, but my aunt just keeps the food coming, for like hours. And you can't possible say no to such an angel of a woman as my aunt. We travelled to Put-in-Bay one day. As a child growing up there, I never knew there were hundreds of islands out in Lake Erie so it was such a delightful new adventure to take the boat out to one of them one day, attend a wine tasting at a local vineyard there and spend a nice relaxing day enjoying the charm of the tiny town. My great-great aunt turned one hundred while we were there so there was, of course, a big Italian bash. I could get into the whole family tree, but it is just way too confusing. But basically, even though my grandparents (my grandfather being a LoSchiavo and my grandmother being a Roberto) have both passed away, there were members from both sides of the family there. It's really crazy. Everyone is named Joe or Frank, and Martha or Marie. It's a headache to go to those things. As more and more relatives continue to pass on, I have less to remember though(as I can't really keep up with which children belong to which of my dozens of cousins). There were some things that I wanted to do that I didn't get to, like the art museum again, which I guess has been closed for 3 years. I did get to go once a few years ago, but I always enjoy going to see art whenever possible, and Cleveland's is a top notch museum. I wanted to visit the botanical gardens, as it came highly recommended. I spent some time in the area though and wanted to have a nice meal at The Inn on Coventry, but they were closed when I got there. Ah well. Probably for the best anyway. As everyone in Cleveland knows, I would move back there in a heartbeat. There was a concern for a while that the weather wouldn't be good for my health, but as I recently discovered that I never had Lupus in the first place, that argument is futile. Yes, I still have the fibromyalgia, but that isn't exacerbated by the weather, and there's actually a holistic doctor in Cleveland that has cured fibromyalgia patients of the disease. I might have to make another visit soon to see him, but in the mean time, I'm reading his book and recognizing a lot of symptoms and learning quite a bit. I loved feeling "at home" again while I was there. I've never felt AZ was my home and that there was really any reason to stay here. I don't know. Maybe someday I'll find myself back home again.

Wow! It really has been a long time since I posted, as a friend recently reminded me. I honestly didn't think anyone was reading my boring drivel. My life has been really crazy lately, but as I previously promised, I will try to stick to the original purpose of this blog, literature and finding pennies. With some "life" stuff thrown in occassionally. ;) Let's start with the pennies. I just returned from a trip to Cleveland, my home town where I found a lot of change on the ground. I think people there must not care or pay attention to all the coins they discard. As for the trip, it was wonderful seeing old family, friends and places I used to visit. Fun, restful and a bit melancholic. Oh well. I did get over to Cedar Point, the best amusement park in the world where I became a kid again for a little while, but also felt old, as my body cannot take all the pounding entailed on those huge roller coasters. I found so much change on the ground that day. People need to empty their pockets before they go whipping through the air in every direction possible. Literature...since I last wrote, I've read a couple of books. I'm just finishing up One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gael Garcia Marquez, the same author of Love in the Time of Cholera. I've thoroughly enjoyed the journey I've taken with the characters. I've loved the quirkiness, the passion, and yes, the melancholy of the characters. Each character is so unique yet very familiar to me. I do, however, wish I had read the book for a class or book club or something since the actual act of reading has felt very much an act of solitude itself. The characters are so engrossed in their own lives and their own minds that no one understands each other, or cares to. I find that to be the unfortunate circumstance of my own existence sometimes as well. I also read Fire in the Blood by Irene Nemirovsky. I recently joined a woman's book club and that was the assignment. Although I didn't think much of the book (it would make a good movie though), I was fascinated by the author's story and how the book came to be published. Nemirovsky died at Auschwitz and the manuscript was found and completed years after her death. I do recommend it for someone who enjoys a light, easy read involving passion and scandal. Before that I read What is the What? by one of my faves, Dave Eggers. I LOVED this book. I adored his autobiography A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius so much that I decided to read everything I can find by him. This latest award winning book was such an important story. I think everyone should read it, even if you don't consider yourself a reader. It's an easy read in terms of technicality, but a difficult story to stomach emotionally. Valentino Achak Deng is a true hero and his story needs to be shared. Thank you Dave Eggers for bringing this story of struggle, pain, triumph and hope to the masses. On my recent travels to Cleveland, I stopped in at a wonderful little bookstore in a part of town called Larchmere and picked up a few books. Dave Egger's You Shall Know Our Velocity, Zadie Smith's (another HUGE fave) On Beauty, Joyce Carol Oates's Black Girl/White Girl and my next read The Professor and the Madman, a true account of the gentlemen who compiled the Oxford English Dictionary. I'm so excited. Future reading includes Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy, Ian McKewan's Atonement and the Zadie Smith book. I love, love, love Zadie Smith. Highly recommend White Teeth to everyone. This young woman is a genius! That's all for now. I'll keep posting all my future literary adventures!

I'm no longer going to be using this blog to discuss my identity crisis.  I will, however, continue to write much more lighthearted posts such as my dreams and reviews of the books I read.  I did want to comment on a recent piece of fiction I read titled The Passion by Jeanette Winterson. I loved this book and took the time to note some poignant quotes that really resonated with me. This book is indeed about passion, which I believe is the most important quality one can possess.

"I have shouted to God...but [He] has not shouted back and I'm not interested in the still small voice. Surely a god can meet passion with passion?"

"I was happy but happy is an adult word. You don't have to ask a child about happy, you see it. They are or they are not. Adults talk about being happy because largely they are not. Talking about it is the same as trying to catch the wind. Much easier to let it blow all over you. This is where I disagree with the philosophers. They talk about passionate things but there is no passion in them. Never talk happiness with a philosopher."

"To kiss well one must kiss solely. No groping hands or stammering hearts. The lips and the lips alone are the pleasure. Passion is sweeter split strand by strand."

"I say I'm in love with her. What does that mean? It means I review my future and my past in the light of this feeling. It is as though I wrote in a foreign language that I am suddenly able to read. Wordlessly, she explains me to myself."

"Saints love to be whipped and I've seen pictures galore of their extatic scars and longing glances. Watching an ordinary person being whipped couldn't have the same effect. Saintly flesh is soft and white and always hidden from the day. When the whip finds it out, that is the moment of pleasure, the moment when what was hidden is revealed."
This is just a taste of all the quotes in this book that touched me. Her prose reads like poetry and sometimes I feel she's inside my head, expressing my deepest thoughts and voicing my realities. I'm now reading Beguiled by Alice Borchardt. I don't think it warrents much of a review. It's a bit trite and although it's supposed to be in the same vein as Braveheart, it reminds me more of the cheesy Xena Warrior Princess ilk.

The only things new in my life (not necessarily interesting things) are some self realizations I've had. Some things are becoming rather apparent to me about myself and before I forget that I discovered these things, I thought I'd write it down. I've been reading a lot lately. I finally finished Madame Bovary. It wasn't a difficult read, but I got distracted along the way with my New York Times crossword puzzles, a book about word origins and some short stories by W. Sommerset Maughm, a delightful author whom I enjoy thoroughly. Anyway, Flaubert's novel definitely struck a few chords in me and I read it at just the right time in my life. While I'd love to despise Emma, I find that I can only commiserate with her sense of ennui and routine that she is faced with in her marriage.  Of course, there are a number of differences between myself and her character, but I'm not as quick to judge or write her off as I might have been just a few years ago. I've now moved on to Orlando by Virgina Woolf. Admittedly, the only novel I've read by her is Mrs. Dalloway and upon my first read, I was completely frustrated. By my third and fourth go at the novel (which I think is necessary for understanding all the nuances in this book) I had decided it was one of my favorites. My new endeavor is much less exasperating but I've discovered a problem. I really don't enjoy reading as much as I did as a student. I actually love the idea of being assigned a novel, being required to discuss, analyze and scrutinize it and then writing a paper on my observations and opinions. I miss it so and the idea of reading for pure entertainment no longer appeals to me. I know, I'm strange. The thing is, knowing this about myself, I cannot rely on myself to try to read at that level. Since I don't have to, I'm not...even though I would be happier that way. Which brings me to this: I am an utterly lazy human being. And this is perhaps why I've never reached the level off success in my life that I always dreamed of. From the time I was 10, I wanted to be a famous actress. This followed me into my early college years and even up until a few years ago. My desire was so strong, but my willingness to sacrifice was void. Once succumbing to the fact that I was not going to be the next Jodie Foster, I decided I would become a graphic designer. I pursued an art degree, but never the graphic design. I simply enjoyed painting, drawing and reading art history. I became burnt out on this creative aspect on my life and decided to give acting another go. Then I realized what I should have known all those years ago: I wanted to be a writer. But I had nothing to say, nothing to write about, so I decided to go back for another degree and write about what I read. Hence, the English Literature degree. My fascination with language and grammar led to the decision to become an editor, which I've recently let go of. I do want to be a writer but I know my fiction lacks originality, depth, skill, etc. I have nothing special to offer. So I must now be content with my trite and dull musings put out on the Internet for all the world to read, but which no one will.

I'm about 200 pages into Crime and Punishment and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I find Raskolnikov fascinating, as his character seems to evolve in every chapter. He's gone from neurotic to venomous to aloof to confident to vulnerable to somewhat altruistic. This constant metamorphosis can be somewhat confusing and disjointed but one must observe the subtle moments in which these changes occur. One can then appreciate the wherefore of these changes dependant upon the circumstances of each situation presented. The continual undercurrent of anxiety keeps the story moving so that when characters such as the long-winded Razumikhin goes off on an emotionally charged tangent, the reader is less aggravated. I'm still trying to understand Rodya's motivation for the murder, as it cannot be for the initial reason presented by the character himself -- money (which seemed to stem from a sense of revenge against someone who had money by someone who didn't), for he didn't even make off with much and later threw it away. I don't even think it was a test of wits to see if he could pull off something so heinous. It's almost as if he relishes the idea of having committed such an act in order to lay claim to it -- to have something that is his own, that no one can take from him. Perhaps this is why he amuses himself with such perilous conversations where he finds himself on the verge of admitting the truth. He wants to invite the interlocutor in to his world, tease them with a taste of his perversion, and banish them completely. How delicious!

So, I've actually been reading more lately. With the new store opening, I have a lot of free time on my hands so I've been bringing books. The first book, since the last post, was Lucifer's Shadow. It takes place in Venice now and back in the 1730's during the age of Vivaldi. Actually, Vivaldi (one of my favorite composers) is mentioned as a character several times in the book. In both time periods, it follows the lives of an owner of a particular violin and the mysterious death involving both of the female owners. It's really the kind of book you should read while in Venice or planning a trip to Venice, or after you've returned from Venice, as there are too many geographical references to count. Plus the whole mysterious air surrounding the story could be more greatly appreciated with some sort of familiarity with the city. It was a pretty good book in terms of its intentional cliff-hanger mentality. Next, I read Gilgamesh, the first written piece of literature (preceding the Bible, and Homer, etc.) I read a lot of commentary and analysis before actually tackling the poem itself. This, I found much more interesting the the actually work. Perhaps it was the rather prosaic translation but there wasn't anything captivating about the story. It is a true epic, but there is hardly any character development (outside of some basic descriptions) nor anything to incite even the most remote sympathetic feelings toward the characters. Perhaps I will read an earlier, and perhaps more sophisticated translation of the story and change my mind. What I found very interesting was the translator's (Stephen Mitchell) analysis of Shahmat and Ishtar's place in society as prostitutes and Gilgamesh's possible homosexual relationship with Enkidu. Mitchell's notes alone make this worth reading. Next I read A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by David Eggers. After the first few pages into the prologue/introduction I discovered that this was quite possibly the best book I've ever read. I read every page (including the copyright page) and discovered each page to be charming, witty, clever and each joke is fresh, better than the last. I recommend it to EVERYONE. My brother, a non-literate, is thoroughly enjoying the book and I am happy to finally have something about which to discuss with him. Now I'm reading Crime and Punishment, truly a must for me as a lover of intense Russian (redundant?) literature. The first 150 pages are great and I haven't gotten lost in any sort of political mish-mash as I usually do with Russian novels. Next on my list will be either Melymbrosia by Virginia Woolf (whom I LOVE) or Sexing the Cherry by Jeanette Winterson. Ciao for now.

So here I am sitting, about to write that I recently cut my hair and half of my femininity with it when my friend tells me she loves it. That makes me feel good. I know that for a lot of women, cutting their hair is like cutting off an appendage but for me it was simple: I don't want it and little kids who lose their hair need it so I'll give it to them. But with that comes a sense of insecurity: Are people judging you on your hair? Ridiculous. But as a woman who's been told her whole life that she's attractive, I've questioned if I still am. I went through this before when I had my hair short. Do men still think I'm pretty? Do women? Do people think I look like a boy? A child? A lesbian? But ya know, there are so many more important things to worry about, why spend my time scrutinizing myself in the mirror? Why not worry about those kids who have no hair? Why not worry about my own health. It just proves we live in a vain society obsessed with looks. Looks are what get you respect and what makes people think you're an interesting person. I know it because I've fallen into the trap too. The first person to grab my attention in a crowd is a good looking one. I want to learn about that person, talk to them. And the cliche goes that beauty is skin deep. Everyone thinks that good looking people have no heart, soul, personality, intelligence etc. Like God gave them good looks and gave all other qualities to the other people. There again lies a prejudice. We look at attractive people and think, "She's a snob", "she's so dumb", "he's only interested in sex", etc. And it's simply not true. I just wonder what side of the coin is worse -- being underestimated for being less attractive or for being more so?

Long time since I wrote. To busy to write. Too busy to write complete sentences. Still struggling through Q. Been reading short stories by Poe, which I like for the most part. A bit anticlimactic though. So there I am on the edge of my seat, pulse racing, sweat on my brow, anticipating what will become of our hapless hero as the pendulum descends upon him when BAM! he cuts loose and escapes! And who IS the Mask of Red Death? I want to know! I NEED ANSWERS! In the meantime, I'm biding my time with crossword puzzles, the fall TV lineup, and sleep. Oh, yes sleep. The doctor says 12-14 hrs. a night but I just can't do that so all I do on my days off is sleep. There's something terribly wrong. I need to cut my hair but I don't know if it's long enough to donate yet. And I want to lose weight so I don't look like some pinhead on a marshmallow body. Bad mood. Tired. Must sleep....yawn.....

OK, so I haven't written in more than a year so bad me, but I haven't really kept in contact with many people who used to read it so I don't know of anyone who'd be interested in what I have to say anyway. But here goes: Since this site is supposed to address life, literature, and the pursuit of pennies, let's start with the easy one. Pennies. I have found that the pursuit of pennies, although fascinating to me, is quite boring for others who have to read about it in search of the juicy stuff. So I'll just say I found six random pennies at work the other day--a very good day. Literature. Well, I can't remember everything I've read since I last wrote, but I do keep track in my very own Reading Woman journal. Worth mentioning is The Master and Margarita, by the Russian author Bulgakov. Good book and great for me because of my obsession with literature about Satan. Really existential and abstract though so prepare yourselves. The Red Tent is good although very much a woman's story. Though it doesn't fall in to the category of a sappy romance novel, there are ultrafeminine elements that make this book a bit nauseating. Speaking of ultrafeminine, The Girls: Sappho goes to Hollywood, is terrific.  Although I knew some key players in Hollywood's golden gay era, I was surprised to read how many there were and how much one circle of women shared partners. So now I'm in the middle of Q about the Protestant Reformation and it is a long complicated intricate story. I'm struggling with it although it is very well written. Life. Well sometimes life sucks. Sometimes it's great. The End. Just kidding. I think I do have a couple of interesting life stories to tell at the moment. Well, let me begin with my lupus. It's getting worse and more things are coming into the picture that complicate things. I hate the term fibromyalgia. It's a trash can term to explain pain that is unexplainable and it doesn't exist. Now I might have tendonitis which is inconsistent with lupus but goes hand in hand with rheumatoid arthritis which is what my dad has. There is something seriously wrong with my right foot and my back but I don't know what yet. I've started yet another pain medication which isn't really helping and basically everything hurts all the time. But I try to keep my spirits up with another trusty medication--Zoloft--which saved my life. And I'm also on a new exercise regimen that helps a little. I need to sleep 12-14 hours a day which is impossible so I take naps whenever possible and I'm on a sleeping medication. I tried to take Ambien for a week, which the doctor told me would mess with my dreams and make them really vivid. My dreams are already really vivid so I was kind of looking forward to it. But it didn't work. Anyway, about my dreams. (This is the good stuff right here). For the past few years I have some interesting things going on with my dreams. First, I began having a recurring dream every night where I couldn't walk. One or both of my knees would lock up and I couldn't move. I'd have to grab my own leg and unbend it so I could move again. The dreams became more extreme to where I couldn't move them at all or stand on them. I was completely paralized. Now it wasn't one dream with one situation. For 2 years, no matter what I dreamt, where I was, who I was with in the dream, and whatever was happening I became paralyzed. I don't know if it was to do with a literal physical hinderance I feel because of the lupus or if it was something psychological going on that I felt I was being held back, but I don't have that dream as often anymore. Now it only happens once or twice a week. Next dream situation. Ever since my grandmother died on my birthday 5 years ago, I have a dream that she's still alive and we all just thought she was dead. And we tell her we thought she was dead and she says, "No, I've been here the whole time and you just didn't see me." My mom says that's her way of communicating with me telling me that she's still with me even though I can't see here. Next dream situations: I can hover over the ground and when I leap once, I can keep myself moving forward but not touching the ground for like 50 yards. I can also breathe underwater. Next: About a year ago, I had a breakthrough in my dreaming. In my dreams, I can actually ask myself if it's a dream or if it is real. My dream self would actually stand there and take a survey of my surroundings, look at my hands and body, touch and feel myself and say, "Yeah, this is really real. This is not a dream." This went on for months. Finally one night, I was dreaming that I was standing at a table in a restaurant with a bunch of girls from my elementary days all grown up. I took stock of everything around me and realized I was dreaming. To wake myself up out of the dream, I began jumping up and down in this dreamland restaurant and I woke up. I think that takes a lot of talent So if anyone out there is a dream analyst and wants to tell me what it all means, I'm all ears...or eyes as it were. Thanks for reading.

Since I last wrote (really wrote--not that blurb about the armored truck) I've only read three books: Flesh and Blood by Michael Cunningham, Passing by Patricia Jones, andThe Biograph Girl by William Mann. I've come to the conclusion that bad things happen to good books. With the exception of Cunningham's novel, they all end much too tidy and sappy. But Cunningham's has its own problems. For example, not one character is comfortable with his sexual identity or in a healthy relationship. Being gay, Cunningham lacks the ability to understand and write about straight characters. They are either repressed or stereotyped as being rather dull and prudish. And there are points when the narrative becomes a script for a pornographic novel--not that I don't love a genuinely steamy sex scene ;) but it just becomes outrageous and monotonous in its own way. But I would still recommend the book as it is well written and atypical of many of the "Oprah Book Club" stuff that is out there today. Now, Passing sounded like such a great book. A family of light skinned blacks struggles with their own prejudices against those with darker complexions and less affluent lifestyles. And it has its moments of brilliance. But all of that is overshadowed by a truly cheesy love scene pulled straight from a Harlequin romance novel (not that I would really know, but I can imagine). The scene drags on and on until finally, at the moment of climax, I got nauceous and had to run to the bathroom. Finally, The Biograph Girl, my favorite so far. Based on a true story of Florence Lawrence, the first film star, this book is chock full of great stories and references to old movies and movie stars (right up my alley). As a bonus, the author has expanded on this woman's real life and true events and somehow turned her life into a murder mystery (Florence Lawrence committed suicide in 1938 and this novel asks the question did she really?). Still, the relationships between the young film people and the 107 year old woman border on oversentimentality the likes of which Tuesdays with Morrie addresses. Flo is just too spirited, unique and inspiring and everything ends so perfectly that it makes me like the suicide story better. You may notice that I don't really enjoy things that are sappy and unrealistic. As for my next projects, I've restarted Dostoyevsky's The Devils after 335 pages that now seem a complete blur. And I've begun reading a book called Angels, an Endangered Species. Speaking of angels, I can't wait to see Constantine as it is sure to feed my obsession with Satan, Hell, Heaven and Angels. That's it for now. Loz Out!

I heard on the news this morning that an armored truck flipped over on the highway (somewhere), spraying the road and the surrounding countryside with thousands of rolled coins. Oh how I would have loved to have been there to gather up all those pennies.

I found seven pennies yesterday -- six when I was walking to my car and one between classes. They were a bit dirty considering all the rain the last couple of days. But I don't let that stop me. I didn't report all the pennies I found in L.A. over my Thanksgiving break, but it was a lot. You know what I don't like? When someone else says, "Hey Lo, there's a penny." Or someone else picks it up and gives it to me. I just can't get excited about it. I don't get that feeling of accomplishment that I do when I spot one myself. So, I had my last class yesterday but I'm not quite done. Two papers and two finals and that'll be it for me. I'm a bit depressed about the whole thing and it bugs me that all my friends keep congratulating me. Don't they know that school is so much better than work? But, I once felt the way they do. Except for my friends who are older and did what I did. We know what's beyond the walls of the university and it's not always pretty. I'm also getting a bit jealous of my friends who are starting to apply for graduate school. I wish I could do the same, but I have to start contributing financially. It just went by so quickly and even though I tried to absorb everything, it all seems like a blur. The sixty or so books I've read in the last year are the only things I remember ... That's not true. I met some of my favorite people and the best friends I've ever had. I learned from the most extraordinary professors. I learned things about myself and opened my mind to different ideas. And I have finally become the person I always wanted to be thanks to all these things. I know it sounds sappy, but how can one speak about such a profound experience without being a bit sentimental. Anyway, I'll still be offering my insights into penny finding, literature, and my new life as a contributing member of society.

I just found out that the U.S. Mint is planning to change the look of the penny come 2009. I'm going to have to start preparing myself now. One of the spokeswomen for the campaign said, "All of us Americans have a great affection for brand new shiny pennies." Is that true? I thought I was the only one!

I just realized I mentioned the age of 30 in my last two posts. It's like my biological clock is ticking, but not for a baby, for a career.