I should really be studying for my anthropology test. Actually, I should have done that last night instead of building an emergency pug portfolio for [livejournal.com profile] zooby. Priorities, man! Before I get back to that, movie talk!

This weekend I finally finished watching The Carter, the documentary about my bb Lil Wayne. It was cramazing. The trailer:

He should be dead within 30 seconds. The werewolf heart is about two-thirds the size of a human's. But in order to shrink, first it has to stop. In other words, he has a heart attack. All of the internal organs are smaller, so while he's having his heart attack, he's having liver and kidney failure, too. If he stops screaming it's not because the pain has dulled; his throat, gullet and vocal chords are tearing and reforming. He literally can't make a sound. By now the pituitary gland should be working overtime, flooding his body with endorphins to ease some of the pain, but that too has shut down. Anyone else would have died of shock long ago. But it won't kill him and that's the thing I find most remarkable. It drags him through the fire and keeps him alive and even conscious to endure every second. Nothing like this could just evolve. This...is the finger print of God. An impossible lethal curse spread by tooth and claw, victim begets victim begets victim. It's so cruel, it's...perfect.

For Valentine's Day, my present was seeing The Wolfman. I was very excited about it, because a) it is relevant to my interests and b) in the past week, I've been kind of struggling with the thought that I may have unleashed a monster on the world. You know--same ol', same ol'. (My ex-boyfriend is embarrassing!) Anyway, there's no possible way I can be objective about the movie, particularly since I spent most of it looking like this: :D

Thoughts: It was bloodier than I expected it to be. I loved the furnishings of Talbot Hall, minus the leaves on the floor and the cobwebs (I kept getting distracted, thinking, y'all need to clean). I also loved Emily Blunt's forest-runnin' dress, which I'm sure [livejournal.com profile] cleolinda already has screencapped and cross-referenced ("...cornflower crepe de chine with a hook-and-eye closure..."). At the gypsy camp, did every other dude look like Bret McKenzie or was that just me? There were about 500 jump scares. But overall, I didn't find it that scary. I dunno, werewolves just don't frighten me.
*The other day at work, I spent about a good 30 seconds trying to decide if I could get away with saying, "There's [a slang term for male genitals] everywhere" (it was in relation to the conversation we were having, shut up). I finally decided that since I'd already talked about that one guy who tried to trick me into looking at his, the polite thing to do would be to refrain. So I still said it. I just substituted "wang" instead.

*My festival of Euro movies continues. It's starting to have an effect on me. The other day, I turned on the TV and was confused because they were speaking in English. It actually took me a second to shake the feeling! And then last night, I dreamed in German.

Oh, wait--I have seen an American movie. Sort of. I started watching the SCIFI* channel's redo of Children of the Corn but I've made it only halfway. The problem is mainly the portrayal of Burt and Vicky, the outlanders who stumble upon Gatlin's secret. Whereas I felt empathy for Gary Shepherd and Sarah Connor in the original movie version, these two? Ugh. I can't get scared because I spend all my time wishing they'd shut the hell up. It's like the part from the Twilight Rifftrax:

"That guy can't get drained of blood fast enough for me."
"You hope a vampire gets him?"
"That's one way."

I just don't understand why Stephen King feels he has to make these terrible TV movie versions of his stories when there are already perfectly cromulent to superior versions out there. Look, I'm happy for you, I'ma let you finish, but Kubrick's The Shining was the best Shining of all time! Of all time!

I also skimmed CotC 4 to make caps. I'm going to go back and probably make more, but here's two of Mark Salling, better known as Glee's Puck.

*I've been trying to do some shopping. I stumbled upon this necklace.

This is a transformative piece. It takes something that was once destructive & violent, now dead and spent, a symbol of fear, and gives it a new meaning by using it to house a crystal which is alive with positive, healing energy and is a source of light and beauty in the world.

Aw, that's nice.

And this one kills werewolves.

Now back to watching Being Human and working out scenes. And relaxing, because it's fall break.

*I will never spell it the new way.
[Error: unknown template qotd]

Wolves. Always wolves.

[Let it out so it can breathe.]
+ Stop objectifying me, NPR!

+ I will be going to UAB this fall. Or really, starting next month.

+ I am going to see live Rifftrax next month.

+ I found out something this week that is probably more appropriate for a locked entry, so I'll deal with that shortlyish.

Be back later--I have to hike the Appalachian trail now.
So I was doing some genealogical research today. [LOL, "research." *google search*] I found out that the most likely origin of Vest, my great-grandfather's name is Germany. You know...Germany.

A few minutes ago, I was looking up Self, my great-great-grandfather's name. "...a more probable version of the origin of the name, even though Anglo-Saxonized, is that the name stems directly from the Norseman word 'Sjolfr.' This word was variously pronounced as 'saeulfe,' 'saeulfr,' and 'saewulf.' Its meaning is 'seawolf.'"

Now I just took the very scientific quiz, "What animal is your spirit guide?" at Facebook and the result is:

You Are Guided By Canis Lupus: The Wolf

[Below: How I spend my weekends, obviously.]

[Buy t-shirt by Fatheed at threadless.]

Also, a charming cover of one of my theme songs:

Back when my grandmother was in the nursing home, we'd go to visit and we'd usually have to pass this 104-year-old woman who'd sit in the hallway in her wheelchair. She was always saying all manner of odd things when we passed her. My mother was carrying a honeydew melon one day and the lady said, "I remember when they killed one of those behind the barn." Ohhhkay. Well, one day I was walking by and she said, "That's the one right there. She changes into a wolf." First I was like, that was weird and then I was like, how does she know?!

So today at lunch, my mom busted out the news that our family name was not always Moon. It was shortened from Moonblood. No one who knows why is alive anymore, but I can venture a guess. Moon is an ambiguous surname. Possibly English, possibly mutated French. Moonblood, on the other hand, is totally not. Knowing what I know already about my family history and whatnot, I think the conclusion is obvious.

I'm probably a werewolf.

PS: I did a surname search and found one listing, for a S. Moonblood in LA. I think I actually found myself in the future.



October 2012



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