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Fiiinally got around to buying a copy of Blankets. I’ve borrowed it numerous times from the library, and as odd as some bits of it may be, it’s still one of my favorites. Expect a few scans to pop up at some point or another. I’m also hoping to actually stick to reading more often.
I’m also trying to see if I can get into more of some of Gaiman’s stuff - all I’ve read from him so far was Good Omens with Terry Pratchett and a good chunks of things from the Sandman mythos. Watching the film adaptation of Coraline might count. Considering the diversity of what he’s written on in both genre and medium, along with what I’ve learned from him from his tumblr (also, if you go to his site, he’s got a few free stories on there), I think he’s a fantastic guy, and one of my goals is, aside from reading more from other writers, is to find more stuff by him and buy it if I like it. Particularly Sandman, but that might take a while.
One odd thing I noticed is that I’m more likely to appreciate an artist, be it musician, writer, filmmaker, magician, or anything else, if they choose not to limit themselves. This might very well be ironic, coming from a dilettante such as myself. I wouldn’t describe these people as polymaths or Renaissance Men/Women so readily - they are flexible within what they do, but the terms seem a bit…broad, I guess. Whichever the case, it’s not something everyone can do, which is why dilettantes exist, but I’m fascinated by those who do have that capability.
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So I decided to dig out an old Halloween costume.
In 6th grade, I chose to dress up as Harry Potter for Halloween. If my memory serves me right, I might’ve been on the second book by then. Whether it was my first time or fourth, or however many times more, I don’t know. But I was there, disappointed like every other 11 year-old that I didn’t get my owl, or a house flooded with letters. To compensate, I premeditated my costume choice by picking the Harry Potter™ glasses they were selling, despite that they were too small and slid down my nose too often. Halloween came around, I got the cloak(in picture), wand(not in picture), and a tacky prosthetic scar(in garbage). So everyone else saw a little Filipino kid with glasses somewhat too small for him, and a lump of clay smacked on his forehead with scarred Caucasian skin in the middle. Aside from the scar, that was one of my favorite costumes (including but not limited to: Power Rangers & Batman. And for one blazing yet tiny moment, Batman Ranger).
I didn’t invest myself so much as others did, but as soon each book came out, for the next few days, nothing else existed. The films themselves were always surreal, as if each and every character leapt from the pages into the silver screen, richer and more detailed than my mind could ever imagine. When I didn’t have those, or something else to be fascinated by, I’d lurk around online, finding fanart and fanfiction of wildly varied variety and quality. I was immersed into their world, and I’d have loved it if I could’ve stayed there. Discovery of slash fanfics notwithstanding.
When the first book and whatever else we had was delivered to our house, that book caught my eye. Huddled under the dinner table, I made my way through the first page before my sister took it back, reminding me that she was the one who ordered it, justifying that she got to read it first. At that time, the idea of a different and magical world was new to me, the idea that that world’s story coming to an end later on staying a distant thought. Reading it to its end was so much for me. Literally seeing it end, besides “mixed”, I don’t have any other way to describe it. Mrs. Rowling said that we’ll always be welcome back, whether by book or film, but it feels like I’m leaving a good friend’s house, and the door’s closing. I know Pottermore’s gonna be around, but still. I’ll miss these guys.
Oh and my sister pre-ordered tickets for the midnight premiere online.
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Welcome to Chelseaville: Algebra in Wonderland →
My tutor showed me this article from New York Times that reveals how the author of Alice in Wonderland, a former mathematician, integrated his love for math into the book in a discreet manner. I found this so interesting :3.
i.e. The “Tea” in the Tea Party of the Mad Hatter and the March…
Source: welcometochelseaville
