Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Fangirling over Stranger Things

Picture from here.

*Edited three months later to add* OK, so anybody reading this at least three months after the Stranger Things phenomen will roll his/her eyes at this post. I respect that. It HAS been way too much hype, I contributed to it, and now admit that it is a tired subject. Three months afterwards, this post sort of embarrasses me, but hey, we all did love Stranger Things before it became an annoying topic.

This is a post that's hard to begin, because I am a tiny thing of admiration for a gigantical thing of genius. "Awe-some" thing, in all its literal glory. 

BY THE WAY, IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN STRANGER THINGS DO NOT CONTINUE READING. THIS POST WON'T CONTAIN ANY MAJOR SPOILERS BUT WHY ARE YOU WASTING YOUR TIME ON MY STUPID BLOG AND NOT WATCHING THE BEST SERIES IN ALL OF MANKIND.

Anyhow, as my life is one eternal ode to lists, I will try to use one to canalize my rabid love:

  1. Eleven is the most bad-ass, beautiful, human, and belovable character in all of TV junkie experience. I wanna be her. Or her mother, to feed her waffles, and hug her all day. She just the paradigm of AMAZING, and she's so bringing the Britney-in-2007 hairstyle back.
  2. Dustin is the cutest comic genius in the history of nerdy characters. Seriously, he makes not having teeth the greatest thing of all times.
  3. I hate Nancy. Can we all agree on this one? To hate Nancy together? Even when she recovers from her angsty annoyingness, I still get the itch of URGH, FAKESTER! Friggin' Nancy. *Edited to add: I read a Tweet that said that Nancy-haters were essentially slut-shamers, which worries my very proud feminism. What do you think? I honestly thought I disliked her because she has spine only when concerning the Jerk that is Steve. But maybe that is slut shaming?*
  4. Vintage is always the best way to go. Most people will say that this series reminds them of E.T. but I haven't seen E.T. since I was a five-year-old cherub, so I'm going for: THIS HAS SUCH A TWIN PEAKS *FEELZ*.
  5. Winona Ryder. Let no more be said.
Questions for the audience: Does Barb deserve all the hype? Favourite part about Eleven? Favourite character? Do you suddenly want to decorate all 0f your home with Christmas lights, in spite of their spookyness? What did this series make you most nostalgic for? (Even if you're a 90's child like me, let's just pretend we can get nostalgic for eras we didn't even live through.)

I'm seriously thinking about watching it all over again.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

The Ideal Reader



If I ever wrote a book worth of publishing, and that book were to be read by many a people, and those readers for some reason were of diversely coloured backgrounds, and all of them read my books in different ways and in different places.

Shouldn't I have the right to imagine what my ideal reader could be?

Well, it wouldn't be the intellectual sprite that would boast of reading me at a downtown coffeehouse.

Nor the fangirl who'd even retweet the succinct aphorisms regarding my pooping status.

But the shy young thing that reads all scrunched up in a corner and then can't get off her eyes so she takes it on the bus and on the metro and the books gets to see all around town because the young thing can't take her eyes off of this shit that makes her feel just so alive.

Which, of course, says more of the ideal book I would like to write than anything else.

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

My love for clothes hurts my left hand

I'm not like the biggest fashionista ever, nor a plain ol' fashionista to start with. BUT I LOVE CLOTHES AND I AM WILLING TO SPEND A DIME OR TWO ON THEM IN SPITE OF MY MARXIST HEART AND I WANTED TO SHARE THAT WITH YOU GUYS BECAUSE ILY.

Pardon the shouting. I get exited.



Could I be a fashion blogger? No. For one, I like words more than I do looks. For another, Chile is a conservative country that is hard on those that defy the norm, including the aesthetical norm. I could never be all Tavi Gevinsonish or whatevs (I would get too many weird looks on the subway and I'd rather read tranquilly during my commute). But that doesn't stop me from trying to look confident, from dying my hair red or cutting bangs or dressing in men's clothes every once in a while. I love the infinite possibilities, which is probably why Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli was one of my favourite books growing up.

I could never be anything close to a fashion blogger, but I do want to start taking more pictures of my outfits and sharing them with you guys to make me feel like I have an actual reason to look so lovely every day.

Love to all those who will not be shamed for their love of clothes,
Ana

PS. And, of course, my "hungover and on my way to buy breakfast" look:

Monday, July 4, 2016

Día Redondo




The Chilean expression día redondo (literally "round day", metaphorically a full yet nice day) is what my past 24 hours of winter vacations were.

I woke up thinking that I had nothing to do but go to the gym and read.

ALAS, NO! Sometimes life has other things in mind for you.
<3 .="" p=""> As the day developed, I:
  1. Went to a three hour meeting regarding my University's future Gender Issues Visibility Group (I'm a horrible translator of quotidian things like this one, mind you.)
  2. Had lunch at my current crush's faculty cafeteria. This would've been uneventful as most life-things, had I not spent the whole time with my nose pasted to the window in case I spotted him. (If I had, I probably would've scrammed. Like, solitary noodles from a tray in a Uni cafeteria are as unglamorous as you get.)
  3. Spent an hour or two reading in a lovely winter park amidst teens smoking pot.
  4. Called on a friend who lives downtown and has the most adorable kitty cat. She made me coffee and we chatted about politics and men.
  5. Bought two dresses. If I'm going to destroy the patriarchy, I'm going to do it in a fabulous dress.
  6. Went to my beautiful literary workshop, where I was lovingly complemented on my story and where I started cooking ideas for a maybe future novel.
  7. Took the subway and bus home, listening to Miike Snow and smiling at the winter city lights.
I LOVE THESE BUSY AND BEAUTIFUL DAYS. I LOVE LIFE. WORTH THE HEADACHE THEY GIVE MY SENSIBLE YET PRETTY HEAD.

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Book Review: My Brilliant Friend



I've redeveloped the habit of reading thanks to one Elena Ferrante, and thus wrote the following review on Goodreads about the phenomenon that her Neapolitan series have created: (It contains a few spoilers, nothing serious though.)

Probably what spurred most of the readers of this book to give it a try is the "Ferrante phenomenon." She is everywhere. My Instagram and Twitter feed, several magazine articles, my stuck-up intellectual aunt's recommendations. Through the first hundred and so pages of the novel, though, I was confused; what does it have that has made all sorts of readers declare it to be a marvel? Answer: Nothing, really.

It doesn't have an amazing plot. It isn't written in an otherworldly style. It's entertaining, but no Game of Thrones thriller. 

It is at most a fairly good book: So why the phenomenon? The Pyschology major in me had to give it SOME theory or other, so here it is:

What is endearing about Lenu and Lila's story is that we have all, particularly women who have lived through the intricacies of best-friendship, felt at some point or another like a Lena and/or a Lila. It is what most cheap magazines are wont to call FRENEMIES.

I, at least, saw myself reflected in Lenu's obsession with Lila, Lila's infinite love and envy for Lenu, their endless and competitive habit of comparing oneself to the other, the sexual undertones of their relationship, their mutual dependancy and dread of said dependancy, etcetera etcetera. It is the classical frenemy story but set in the novel landscape of a poor Neapolitan neighbourhood.

Yes, I enjoyed this book, and yes, I caught myself getting *feels* over it, and yes, I want to read the second book. But, no, I will not share a picture in Instagram declaring it the greatest book I've read so far in 2016. I'm sorry, Ferrante, but the hipster in me wants to rebel against your mainstreamness.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Greetings July


I've got five weeks of blankness ahead of me. (Aka, vacations.) I'm not sure what I'll dedicate myself to, besides reading and writing.
I'm not a big fan of lazyness. What I like is deserved rest: Arriving home at 8pm, exhausted, getting into my very unsexy pijamas and burying my headache under a pillow or a Friends episode.
This was supposed to be a fun month. There was going to be some traveling with friends, for one.

But now that's not happening and I'm a little bit scared about the blahness of my life.

When did I get so old that I forgot how to have fun?
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