Of Monsters and Men

I love music, which seems like a rather pointless claim, because I don't know that I've ever met anyone who didn't like music. Anyhow, I do love music and listen to everything ranging from classic rock to classical, old school country to gansta rap. About the only thing I don't enjoy is techno. It's something about the repetitive, electronic nature of it. Just not for me.

But regardless of genre, my favorite songs are those that tell as story. Whether it's Reba McEntire singing about a young girl turned hooker with a heart of gold, or Josh Ritter recounting the tale of unlikely lovers during a nuclear WWIII, I'm just drawn to these types of songs. They're like short stories set to music, which is probably why I'm such a sucker for them. It's the writer in me responding to the narrative structure of these songs. And if telling a complete story in short story format is hard (and it is), how much harder is it to tell a complete story in the average length of time of a song? It's like the ultimate flash fiction. Songwriters (the good ones) definitely have my respect.

I've gotten inspiration for several of my stories from songs. Some nugget of an idea embedded deep in the lyrics just sets my imagination on fire, and the next thing I know a character pops partially formed into my mind, chattering away. And then sometimes, it isn't the song so much as the video that captures my imagination. Sometimes, it's the combination of both.

I've been hit or miss with blogging recently, mainly miss, so I wanted to jump back in by sharing one such song and video that's captured my imagination recently. No, it hasn't inspired any stories for me, at least not yet, but the song just has a certain something. And I like it, whatever it is. I really do. It also doesn't hurt that the video is a mixture of steampunk, Georges Méliès film, and awesome. That's right, "awesome" is a primary ingredient.

Here is Of Monsters and Men's Little Talk:

Of Werewolves and Wolfmen

Due to a lingering illness that's trying it's best to end me, I've been working from home a lot lately. It's funny how much the drone of cubicle noise can irritate me in the office, but several days of silence is almost as bad. To combat the wheezing drone of my own congested breathing, I've taken to turning the television to innocuous programming to provide some background noise as I work. The goal here isn't entertainment, it's distraction -- just enough to keep my subconscious happily preoccupied so the rest of my brain can focus on the task at hand.

The programming that works best for this? National Geographic,The History Channel, and PBS. Interesting and educational. These can play in the background happily all day, and I rarely pay them much thought until I'm ready to close up shop for the day. One program did manage to penetrate my medicine and work induced fog, though, and that program was the 2009 H2 documentary, "The Real Wolfman."

The program summary says, "Stories of a wolfman who was said to terrorize the French town of Gevaudan in the 18th century are explored by criminologist George Deuchar and cryptozoologist Ken Gerhardt, using modern forensics."

It is an interesting program that fully articulates the history of the events, researching all possible explanations for the attacks, using modern forensics and knowledge to dissect eye-witness testimony taken at the time of the attacks. Pairing a criminologist and a cryptozoologist for the investigation is an inspired idea, because their two extremely different viewpoints ensure no theory is accepted or rejected too quickly. And oh, how the theories range. Rabid wolves, human serial killers in wolf hide clothing, prehistoric cave jackals, actual werewolves...all explanations are considered more or less seriously. The criminologist argues for a human perpetrator, the cryptozoologist argues a beast is likely behind the attacks. And, while I pride myself on being a logical, reasoned, well-educated woman, I can't lie...I was rooting for the cryptozoologist.

My interest in cryptozoology, the paranormal, and the supernatural is difficult to explain. I am a rational person, sometimes to a fault. I am a realist. I like things I can see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. I'm not particularly religious and enter situations with a good deal of skepticism. That's why I like my fiction (books, tv, movies) to be be so fantastic in nature; I want the escape fantasy, science fiction, and speculative fiction offers. So, why pull for the cryptozoologist? It isn't that I believe in werewolves or any mythical, fantastic creature; it's that I *want* to believe. Although the sensible part of my brain enjoys being grounded in the facts of day-to-day reality, I think it would be a great shame if there was nothing in this world that transcended our five human senses and modern scientific explanation. So, while I know the wolfman attacks have a logical, scientific explanation, I can't help but hold out hope there's something supernatural at play.

In the end (*spoiler alert*), the criminologist and cryptozologist are both right. They decide the culprit of the wolfman attacks is a combination of man and beast; the man who claimed credit for killing the beast had trained a jackal to attack humans. So, chalk another tally point up for logic and reasoning. But you have to admit, discovering evidence of a werewolf, no matter how ridiculous and implausible, would have been kinda cool.

Of Mondays and Moodiness

It's a Monday. Monday's don't tend to be too high on my list of Favorite Days of the Week. This particular Monday, I made it about 15 whole minutes before my faithful zombie stress doll EOR became a makeshift voodoo doll.

Alas, poor EOR

Maybe "voodoo doll" isn't the accurate term since no actual ritual was held, but I don't know a more succinct way of saying "I stabbed the poor doll profusely in impotent rage until I felt marginally less hostile towards the human beings in my direct vicinity."

Okay, so maybe there is a more succinct way of phrasing it. How about "typical Monday"?

Rest is peace, EOR. Or whatever it is un-resting, non-peaceful monsters do. 

Anyone else have the Monday zombie voodoo doll blues?

Of Zombie Babies and Nocturnal Lagophthalmos

I wear many different hats these days. Wife. Mom. Zombie Enthusiast. A darling red plaid fedora I picked up on the cheap.

You heard her wrong, honey. The checkout girl totally said I look "rad." With an "R," not a "B."

It was only a matter of time before the different parts of my life collided. Why oh why couldn't the collision involve the fedora?

So, the Little One. Let's call him the Littlest Kraken because, well, if you heard the sea monster-esque noises emitting from that baby monitor night and day, you wouldn't doubt the child is at least 75% mythical aquatic beast. The Littlest Kraken, LK for short, has developed a habit even I think is disturbing. My darling boy occasionally likes to sleep with his eyes open. I KNOW! Horrifying. The first time I caught him doing it, I figured lack of sleep had me hallucinating. The second time, I wanted to purchase a baby sleep mask and and a lobotomy poker (for me -- there are some things you can't unsee). The 87th time? Meh, it's still creepy, but I have to admit that if this is his main quirk, it's still preferable to just about anything he could have inherited.

Being the terrified diligent first-time-mom I am, I subscribe to the weekly babycenter.com emails. Low and behold, what comes through to my inbox today? An email from Baby Center containing the following question: "Is it normal for my baby to sleep with her eyes open?"

Excellent question, anonymous mother of a baby girl! I've been wondering that very thing. And here's the answer provided in the article, first two sentences:

Yes, it's normal, but it certainly looks odd. As Concord, California, naturopathic doctor Tara Levy puts it: "Zombie kid! Watch out!"

Okay, the emphasis is mine. Even so, zombie kid? If two things in my admittedly eclectic life had to merge, I could have found a better pairing.

Joking aside, the condition, known medically as nocturnal lagophthalmos, is common in infants, harmless, and usually outgrown by the time a child reaches 18 months of age. Still though, creepy. CREEPY!

The article offers some medical advice, but overall advises "...don't fear the zombie kid." Sure. Don't fear. Be lulled into a false sense of security. Everyone knows that's when the zombies strike!

Notice the tag-to-mouth ratio? The child's already a biter.

Of Blog Breaks, Babies, and Hopefully Blogging Again

I've taken a blog break. Nothing major, just took a step back to have a baby, bring him home from the hospital, and, you know, watch him grow and turn 8 months old.     o.O

Okay, so perhaps it was a longer break than I'd anticipated...from blogging, and writing, and, um, what was that thing I had pre-baby? It's on the tip of my tongue; I used to get all wrapped up in it... Oh yeah! A life. But enough hibernation. The little one is getting bigger every day and it's time for me to return to the activities I also hold dear, including the writing career I'm working to build. Fortunately, I do have my family's unwavering support in this venture.

Hey mom, how 'bout you write something? Legos ain't gonna buy themselves!

How times flies. So, back to writing and blogging and brainstorming and pursuing this crazy dream of mine. Hello 2013, we're going to have a wonderful time together.