It's been a big week for me, in good ways and in bad ways. I started my first "real job" on Monday, got my passport...

...and totaled my car this morning.

I've never done more than graze the occasional curb while parking before, so it was especially shocking. Not that I imagine it's ever NOT shocking to make a left turn and suddenly find your car being slammed right at forty-five mph. I still haven't figured out exactly what happened, if I thought he was stopped or going slow enough to give me time to make the turn, or if he was running a light or trying to beat a yellow or WHAT; I have no idea whose fault it was, but right now the insurance thing is for "no fault" so I'm guessing we both fucked up. I can't really imagine myself making a left turn onto a busy road if traffic was moving in both directions, which is why I wonder about him going through a light, but I couldn't really say for sure... I was very tired and stressed out (and furious at my GPS for fucking me up; if it had just said "take the next left" when it was supposed to and not "prepare to turn left in 100 yards" or whatever it did say, I wouldn't have changed lanes and missed my turn, and I wouldn't have had to turn around and pull back onto the road, and I wouldn't have been running late and anxious...), and it's entirely possible I "looked without seeing". I have no idea what happened; it was all so sudden and out of the blue.

In a weird way the scariest thing at first was not being able to find my glasses. They and my hat got knocked clear off me, probably by the air bag (suddenly finding that smoking up my car with that dentist-drilling-around-in-your-head kind of smell was a jolt too), but my gum was miraculously still in my mouth and not lodged in my throat. All I could think at first when bystanders were trying to get me out of the car was "Oh god I can't find my glasses"; all anybody could find for the first five, ten minutes were sunglasses, neither of which were my prescription ones, so not only did I total my car but I couldn't see what was going on.

Now that I have my glasses and am safely out of the hospital (mostly scrapes and bruises, no breaks or gashes, which was kind of surprising given the amount of glass I was picking out of my clothes at the hospital) what freaks me out the most is that my girlfriend hasn't been told. At the scene I only had time to call my mom and the friend who got me the job so she could tell them why I wasn't coming in today. Then at the hospital my parents persuaded me that it would be better to wait for Amanda to get here, since she's coming up tonight anyway, before telling her so that she doesn't drive worried and get herself into a crash too. Which makes sense, but I still feel awful not telling her right away. It's interesting how much things have changed since we've been dating... normally when something seriously bad happens I think "I want my mommy!". Today, even when I had my mom there holding my hand all I could think was "I want my baby!" Even if she'd been able to leave work straight away, I would have been discharged by the time she would be able to get up here, but still... I wanted her there. Now I think about how in four hours or so she's going to come up my drive and see my car's not there and she'll have no warning... but at least she won't be worrying about it during her drive, and I guess that's the important thing. But I still feel awful not calling her immediately, because I know she'd want to know.

Cars are frightening beasts. I've always felt that way. I always will. But all things considered, this could have been worse. I'm home. Bruised, scraped, aching, stiff, and abruptly car-less (which will make getting to and from my already overwhelming new job interesting), but home and relatively unharmed as far as these things go. I never managed to get a good look at the other guy, but as far as I could tell he was in roughly the same shape I was, so I'm hoping he too is safe and sound at home.

"Shaky" - Illustration Friday

The word this week for Illustration Friday (http://illustrationfriday.com/) is "shaky". I've been experimenting with scratchboard lately for a comic I want to make, so that's what I used to make this shaky little guy. Poor lil' feller.

How I know Ingrid Bergman is one of the most beautiful women ever to have lived:

She can make "Liverwurst" sound entrancing.

Seriously. Go watch Spellbound. I've never heard anyone make such an ugly word sound so beautiful.

"Drifting"

My entry for this week's Illustration Friday (http://www.illustrationfriday.com/). I actually finished it really early this week, but for some reason I'm still posting it on Thursday... Lazy.

At any rate. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out. Everything just sort of came together really quickly and easily. The only thing that really bothers me is that I didn't know how much I would like it, so I drew it on a sheet of paper that tore wrong, so now I'm stuck with this awkward tear in the corner (I photoshopped it out, but believe me, you'd notice it if you saw it in person). Another life's lesson learned: treat every drawing like it's going to be a masterpiece.

You can get a larger view or see other drawings of mine (warning: not everything is PG, so if you're under 18 you might want to stick to the Illustration Friday section) at my website: http://sites.google.com/site/altheakeaton/Home/drawings

Mutton Chops.

For some reason, I'm really craving mutton chops tonight. Not food-y type mutton chops. I'm talking Wolverine style mutton chops. Old time-y guy mutton chops. Free-flowing facial hair you can get your fingers into.

I would so be loving running my fingers through my facial hair right now.

Father's Day

I have to say, I'm pretty disappointed by the selection of father's day cards out there. Except for the schmaltzy ones, everything was geared towards dads who love A) sports, B) power tools, C) boobs. My dad has no interest in sports, likes power tools okay but seems to see them mainly as a means to an end, and isn't a pig. My dad cooks and cleans. He isn't lazy, and he doesn't like sitting around watching tv. He takes good care of himself and his family. He doesn't have a particularly bawdy sense of humour.

So where's the card for THIS kind of dad?? I'd've gotten him one of the disgustingly sentimental ones, but I always feel uncomfortable giving somebody *else*'s sentimental words to someone I love.

So I ended up giving him something with a puppy and a poo joke, because it was the only "funny" card that actually made me laugh. And who doesn't love a good poo joke? (and, of course, I added my own personalized schmaltz, which is the important part anyway)

Seriously, though, it makes me wonder about other people's dads... Are sports-lovin', beer-chuggin', boob-ogglin', power-toolin' dads really such a majority that it justifies the overwhelming majority of father's day cards being geared toward them? Or are the people who make greeting cards really just that unoriginal?

At any rate... Thanks for all the home-cooked meals, for the emotional and financial support, for being more sympathetic about my menstrual cramps than most people of any gender, and for twenty-five years (and counting) of unconditional love, Da.

And thanks for not being a stereotype.

Coraline: the Musical

And we're off!

So... I don't normally read the theater reviews in the New Yorker, but the June 22nd one caught my eye. Now, when I found out that they were making Coraline into a movie, I was really excited, and when I found out it was being directed by Henry Selick (the guy who did the Nightmare Before Christmas) I was even more excited. My excitement was justified when it came out. Beautifully animated, best use of 3-D I've ever seen, artistic, creepy, just... perfect. Completely did justice to the book, which is not something I often say about movies based on books. (and my girlfriend took me to see it as a Valentine's Day treat, which made it extra-special)

Well, apparently now they've made it into a stage musical. When I learned this I was... intrigued. Then I found out that the music was being done by Stephin Merritt of the Magnetic Fields and went beyond intrigued into excited. This discovery was all the more exciting since just a few weeks ago after watching Across the Universe and listening to a lot of Magnetic Fields, I decided it would be really great to build a musical out of their songs. And then I flip open the New Yorker and voila! A musical with music and lyrics by Stephin Merritt. Based on a really great Neil Gaiman story. Which is especially perfect because I've been re-reading a lot of Neil Gaiman and listening to a lot of Magnetic Fields lately, so it caught me at the best possible time.

And yet... I don't know. A bad review isn't usually enough to put me off of something. After all, the New Yorker hammered the hell out of Fight Club and I love that movie. But something about this musical just seems... off. Actually, I can pinpoint exactly what it is: the casting of Coraline herself. All the other complaints didn't ruffle me, but when I found out the lead character, a preteen girl, is being played by a middle-aged woman... Yeesh.

What a horrible, horrible idea. The story is all about childhood. And as much as I hate child actors as a general rule, the idea of Coraline being played by a fifty-five-year-old just really puts me off. There's just no way to make that work. A grown-up playing a child is always very tongue-in-cheek, wink-and-nod-to-the-audience. It's far too camp for a heartfelt story that's all about the perspective of childhood. Also, many of the women are played by men, which I'm normally all far, but it makes the whole thing even more needlessly campy. It's not really a story that lends itself to drag, be it gender-drag or age-drag. Not to my mind anyway. Clearly, there are those who disagree.

I guess it was too much to hope for, that musical theater could tell a story without killing it with camp, but still I'm disappointed.

Neil Gaiman has a tremendous gift for female characters, something very rare for a male writer. Too bad the story seems to have passed through too many hands which don't share that gift.