My annual book review

Another year has come and gone, and so it is time for my annual book re-hash. In 2010, I read 50 books, and last year, I read 53. Not a huge jump, but that's an average of a book a week, so I can't complain. (And there's some discrepancy on the number. GoodReads says I read 53, but AllConsuming has my number at 56. I won't quibble, or spend the time comparing the two lists to see which is more accurate. Because I'm lazy like that, bitches.)

I don't have a favorite book from 2011, though I did discover a few authors that I really like: for mysteries, Robert Crais and Charles Todd; for romance/humor, Susan Elizabeth Phillips. I finally read Middlesex (loved it), and Cutting for Stone (also loved). I re-read Jane Eyre. I'd like to say that I have a goal of beating 53 books for 2012, but I think it's a pretty decent number, and I'll be happy to match it. Now, of course, I've got to get to work on the stack of fabulous books I got for my birthday and Christmas this year.

He's a rebel and he never ever does what he should

J.R. got me a Canon Rebel SLR camera for Christmas, which is so awesometastic there are no words. I haven't had much time yet, but I fully intend to embark on a photo quest of magnificent proportions ... or I may just take a bunch of random pictures of my dogs. Either way, fantastic present and an easy way to an obtainable New Year's Resolution: Learn how to use my new camera.

Wish me luck, people!

In sum

I got promoted, and thus, I have no time for anything but working. Occasionally sleeping, but not often. I'm hoping to someday have time for fun stuff again, like reading, watching TV and blathering on the internets.

Happy holidays!

Where have you been

I feel like I've been incredibly busy lately, but I can't say doing what. Work has been a bit hectic and stressful, but that doesn't seem to account for it. To be truthful, I don't feel like I've been present. Not so much that I'm going through the motions, but sometimes I feel like I'm just living without even noticing it. Time is just ... moving.

Anyway, J.R. and I started watching Revenge and were completely caught up in a few days. (Such trash, but in a good way.) New Girl is so ridiculously funny that we'll watch an episode twice in a row. Also, I read books, but none that you need to know about. Oh! And we went to wine country and didn't drink wine, but we did attend a beautiful wedding.

And tomorrow, I'm off to Boston for the giving of the thanks and the wearing of the eating pants. Also, seeing the friends, family, etc. I think I may make my annual "blog more" New Year's Resolution early, people. But not the eat-better/exercise-more shit. That's got to wait until January.

Sweetness

It's National Dessert Day, bitches. This is possibly the best holiday ever, barring Thanksgiving, of course. (What? Thanksgiving is a whole day of eating, people. Whole day. There's turkey and my sister makes relish tray and then there's pie. Which I should eat today, in honor of its dessert-ness. Christmas is obviously right up there, as there's also a lot of eating but also presents, which I love. But there's a lot of stress associated with Christmas that Thanksgiving just doesn't have for me.) Bygones. Who's got a brownie?

Sweet Jane

Last night, I watched the latest production of Jane Eyre, and I was blown away. It was a beautiful movie -- from the writing to the acting to the way it was filmed. I was totally engrossed in this world, and even though I knew the story (no self-respecting English major hasn’t read the Brontes), I was still eager to see what would happen next because of how well they played up the gothic-mystery element. Mia Wasikowska did a fantastic job as Jane, as did Michael Fassbender as Rochester. When it ended, I almost wanted to start it all over and watch it again. (I haven’t done that since watching Priest twice late one night in college. And no, not the horror-flick Priest, the one that was about grappling with religious issues and homosexuality with a surprisingly hot Linus Roache.)

Bygones. I feel like I should re-read Jane Eyre now, but I fear I won’t love it as much as I loved this movie. I've always been more of an Austen girl than a Bronte-lover. Plus, I vaguely remember having to slog through a lot of orphan-girl-being-treated-badly before we got to the good stuff, and the movie did a beautiful job including that backstory with short flashbacks. Also, for some weird reason, the only copy I own is so old the binding is nothing but tape -- perhaps I should take this opportunity to upgrade my library?

Driven away

J.R. and I went to see Drive last weekend, and it wasn't quite what I expected, since I expected it to be good. It's gotten fairly glowing reviews, arthouse action film, yada, yada, yada. Um, action? Not so much. And if it's "artistic" to crush a skull by stomping on it repeatedly, then, yeah, I guess this film is artistic. And I'm not one to shy away from cinematic gore; I haven't really met a Tarantino film I didn't like (though I still need to see Inglorious Basterds). This gore just didn't have any redeeming qualities for me.

In the beginning, I inwardly laughed at the cheesy '80s titles and the over-the-top synth music. I figured it was one of those slow build movies, and it would grow on me. Slow, yes; grow on me, not so much. I stayed through the whole thing, but by the end, all I wanted was a shower. Ryan Gosling has been a favorite of mine since I got over how fantastically creepy he was in Murder by Numbers, but even his chiseled beauty couldn't save this flick for me.

I'm not a teenager, but I watch them on TV

J.R. has been away on business this week, leaving me alone with Netflix Instant and HuluPlus, which leads to awesome things like watching a bunch of episodes of MTV's Awkward. Sure, it's a show about a teenage girl who has an accident which makes people think she tried to commit suicide and all her trials and tribulations being a girl not in with the in crowd, but it's actually a pretty decent show. It makes me laugh, and I can watch multiple episodes in a row. I don't know. My judgment may be compromised at this point since I'm denied the TV I usually watch. (Though with how much True Blood is sucking this season, I'm beginning to think Awkward is actually a better show. Maybe I should start watching Switched at Birth, too.)

I've seen the mountaintop

For Labor Day, J.R. and I took a day trip up to Mount Rainier, which meant the opportunity for a shit ton of photos of the mountain, evergreen trees, and random patches of snow that were still fucking frozen in September. It was pretty much good times, even though I'm scared of heights and it turns out that eating dinner in a converted train car isn't the great idea you originally thought it was. Bygones. The point is this: After much clutching of the door handle whilst we wound our way up that big-ass mountain that is also a volcano (though I try not to think about that part), we made it to Paradise. And we hiked up to see some pretty falls. And we caught some reflections on the way back.

And it only took me four years to get there.

People say that life is the thing, but I prefer reading

I've noticed a trend in the books I've been reading lately: The novels are made up of intertwining stories that don't really all come together until the end. I'm sure it started before the Quentin Tarantino movie, but it's still the Pulp-Fiction-style novel to me. Don't get me wrong; this can be an effective way to tell a story. I think it worked particularly well for Await Your Reply, which had an element of mystery to it but was mostly a dark look at what "creating yourself" can ultimately mean.

I think it worked less well for A Visit From the Goon Squad, which used the same technique to tell related stories but each chapter felt a little stand-alone. (And, much like epilogues, I hated the futuristic chapter -- it was definitely the weakest part of the book for me.) In the end, I still enjoyed both books because, whatever their narrative style, their writing was unquestionably good. Now, however, I'd like to read a book with a more linear narrative. So I'm going with Swamplandia! I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've voluntarily read a book with an exclamation point in the title, but I'm rolling with it. Change is good.