31.Jul.10 in Writing {5 comments}

Ten years of I Will Dare: ten of my best posts

Today, I Will Dare is 10 years old today! Permit a bit of self-indulgence as I share with you 10 of my favorite posts, one from each year.

October 20, 2000
The Great Clyde Break-In: I turn on the light, roll out of bed and have the common sense to put on a bra (yes, I thought to put on a bra). I throw on some shorts and a sweatshirt, grab my glasses, run my fingers through my hair, and nab my keys on the way out the door. The whole time I was thinking, “If this is some sort of pre-wedding practical joke, there will be bloodshed.”

October 16, 2001
That Penny Family: Of course, the joy of Halloween was always tempered by the fact that we always had to pool our booty. Yeah, my parents were a couple of commies. There was no keeping your hard-earned loot. We’d get home, dump out our pillowcases and pick a few favorites. The rest of our take was then pooled into a giant, yellow-orange Tupperware bowl to be shared with the rest of the family.

March 17, 2002
And all the people merely players: They sat on either side of me with a small plate of potato chips and a cup filled with 7-Up. That’s when the play started.
Max kept handing me his cup and then saying, “Say thank you, Gopher.” I’d take the cup and say, “Thank you, Gopher.”
Then Jaycie would say, “Don’t you feed THAT BEAR!”
Then they’d both burst into laughter and we’d have to start all over again.

July 14, 2003
Don’t Overshoot Your Headlights: I was convinced that my headlights were defective and I was going to die. Then for some reason, the words of wisdom came back, “don’t overshoot your headlights.” I discovered that I could see just fine, if I focused on the area the headlights illuminated. Finally I knew what in the hell that meant. I was overshooting my headlights and trying to see all that stuff just beyond the reach of the lights.

August 6, 2004
The Curious Incident of the Popcorn in the Night: While we were chatting, I noticed a garbage bag-sized bag of popcorn on the ground near Ruby. I took note of the oddness, and continued chitting and chatting with Damon. But, the time to end the night had come, and as I approached Ruby, Vodo came from behind the building that’s next to the Open Book. He was parked on the other side of Ruby.
I took a step toward the door, and that’s when I saw it.

June 11, 2005
Something in the popcorn: Of course, since we were late we had to stumble dripping and shivering from the rain, to our seats. We finally sit down as the previews are playing and Max shouts “THERE’S SOMETHING IN OUR POPCORN.”

December 25, 2006
My Christmas wish for you, Darling Ones: But I went forth and asked anyway. “I can’t go alone,” I told her. “I’m a wreck.”
And even though she was already in pajamas, she said yes. She climbed back into real pants and joined me on my journey back to 1994. Which turned out to be great gobs of fun, and a story for another time.

April 22, 2007
The Last Frame: We exited quietly lit by the glow of the pop machine, and then stood outside crying, waiting for Dad to exit. Out came Tommy Schmidt, who had worked at the bowling alley for nearly two decades with Ralph, the original owner, with an old radio and a picture of Ralph clutched under his arm. Finally, Dad.

January 23, 2008
Madison & Pinguino: An interspecies love story: In the last week or so Madison has gotten protective of Pinguino. Whenever I approach my bedroom, Madison streaks in from wherever he is in Supergenius HQ to watch what I’m doing. When it’s time to fill Pinguino with water, he watches my every move. Meowing when I take off the penguin’s head to get at the handle. Then he follows me into the bathroom and perches on the ledge of the bathtub watching me fill his lover with water.

March 15, 2009
You are not right: We all have many coming of age tales in our lives. One of mine happened on a paper-covered table in a doctor’s office in 1984. It was a few days before my 12th birthday. I had just finished 6th grade and my mom was concerned about my fantastic growth (both height and girth) that never seemed to end.

January 17, 2010
Brought to you by discover of the first season of She-Ra on Hulu: Every fall when school rolled around I would re-dedicate myself to upholding these ridiculous standards of beauty. The day before school started I marched up to Snyder Drug to arm myself with a bottle of extra-control hairspray (I preferred the Clairol non-areosol in the cool-shaped bottle because it smelled a little better. This was in the days before hair products spelled like fruit and flowers and gumdrops. Kids these days have no idea how good they have it), the latest in Maxi-to-Go eyeshadows, seven different flavors of lip smackers, and an industrial-sized vat of Noxema to remove it all after school.

By Jodi Chromey {5 comments}

29.Jul.10 in Music {No comments}

Ten of my favorite songs of the past 10 years

After a momentary set back yesterday (I woke up on the bitchy, unpleaseable side of the bed that was best served by not spewing rancid bile around the Internet. Lucky for you, I sent a lot of it to Christa in an e-mail so I’m back to being fucking perky).

Last time I shared with you my spur-of-the-moment, not-too-thought-out list of my ten favorite books since I Will Dare started in 2000. Today, I’m gonna talk about music.

You’ll be happy to know that roughly 1/2 of this list will be pseudo scientific. Yes, science. But how, Jodi? You’re probably be asking. Easy, I say, because since 2005 I’ve been keeping track of the songs I listen to most in iTunes.

Unlike the book list, I’m not going to stick to music released since 2000 even though it would make me look much hipper and more informed. A lot of these are making the cut because they can bring me back to the time when I loved them so much, and all those times happened between today and when I Will Dare was started.

Dear Chicago, Ryan Adams: I spent a good chunk of 2001-2002 obsessed with Ryan Adams. I think it was his Paul Westerberg pose that I found so attractive. Plus, Dear Chicago’s just an awesome song.

Thirteen, Big Star/Save it for a Rainy Day, The Jayhawks: 2002-2003 was full of romantic highs and lows. These two songs characterize that so well. I still wince a little at my own naivety whenever I hear Alex Chilton sing “Would you be an outlaw for my love.”

To Destruction, Delorean: Another year, another broken heart. How lame is some of this brokenhearted bullshit?

Me & Mia, Ted Leo + The Pharmacists (most listened to 2005): It seems like a million years ago already, but Ted Leo rocked my world when I first heard him. I remember Wolfdogg and I at First Ave feeling about a hundred years old when Ted Leo busted into a cover of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” and the crowed went totally mild, except for us.

Why Independent Record Stores Fail, Marah (most listened to 2006): This is the song all girls who love music geeks want sung to them by a music geek. “You’re kinda like T-Rex meets The Jam.”

I Just Want the Girl in the Blue Dress (to Keep on Dancing), Mike Doughty (most listened to 2007): Remember my Mike Doughty fetish? It has waned in recent years, probably starting with the album this song appears on “Golden Delicious.” This song, however, got me through a very rough year. My family feel apart and is still suffering the repercussions of what happened in 2007.

Mockingbird, Carly Simon (most listened to 2008): I cannot explain this. I think I just like the kinda call and response thing going on here.

Kick Drum Heart, The Avett Brothers (most listened to 2009): The Avett Brothers came along and stole my heart when I was pretty sure that it was dead to new music. Seriously, the #2 most listened to song in 2009 was Jackson Browne’s “Doctor My Eyes.” But man, if you don’t have The Avett Brothers’ I and Love and You album, you’re missing out.

King of Spain, The Tallest Man on Earth (most listened to thus far in 2010): Because I’m so tall, I’m automatically drawn to anything that says anything about tallness or giants. I took a gamble on this dude just because of the name Tallest Man on Earth. He’s some Scandinavian guy (I think). My friend Wolfdogg helpfully pointed out that I have a penchant for Scandinavian dudes who write pop songs (see: Jens Lekman and Sondre Lerche). I hadn’t noticed, but he’s on to something. Also, you should know, #2 so far this year is Alvin and the Chipmunks’ cover of “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” thanks to The Tibbles.

I would like someone to notice that there’s not a single Paul Westerberg or The Replacements’ song on this list. Aren’t you proud?

By Jodi Chromey {No comments}

27.Jul.10 in Books {3 comments}

My favorite books of the past 10 years

So yeah, I Will Dare is going to be 10 on Saturday. To mark this momentous occasion I’m going to be making random Top 10 lists that may or may not have anything to do with the past 10 years. Today’s list, Favorite Books.

It’s a little known fact that I’ve been keeping a list of every book I’ve read since 2002. For that reason alone this list might be weighted toward the books I’ve read since then.

There are many theories on the art of crafting a Top 10 list. Some people come from the school of contemplative thought. Stewing, thinking, pondering, and rethinking — they want to make sure the list is filled with worthy candidates. They want to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything, and the list properly represents the image and persona they want to maintain. These Top 10s are usually filled with stuff you never heard of and stuff you’d never read.

I’m of from the school of make shit up as you go along and apologize after for any obvious gaffes. Sure it’s not a division one school, but you know it still works. I only had one rule for the list, I wanted to include books published in the past 10 years. It’s too late to turn back, here we go.

Short Story Collections
Throw Like a Girl by Jean Thompson: I read this one three years ago and I can still remember scenes from the stories, and how one of the characters called herself the girl you came to when you wanted to wreck something. It’s a devastating and horribly under-rated collection.

Both Ways is the Only Way I Want It by Maile Meloy: The very last story in this collection features a family, a Christmas tree, and some hitchhikers. It is so suspenseful that you’ll be glad it’s a short story and not a novel, because you can’t hold your breath for an entire novel without losing consciousness. This is only the beginning of its greatness.

How to Breath Underwater by Julie Orringer: I read this book three times in 2005. Need I say more?

Novels
King Dork by Frank Portman: If you’re new here, you probably don’t remember the summer of aught-six where all I did was blog about reading King Dork.

The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break by Steven Sherrill: This is a book about the Minotaur, the half-man, half-bull from Greek mythology, who works as a short order cook. I haven’t read this since 2002 and it still haunts me.

The Time Traveller’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger: I’m including this one not just because it’s good but to prove that’s I’m a reader of the people. I wrote about it, allegedly, but now all you get is my kickass 404 page.

Graphic Novels
Blankets by Craig Thompson: I liked it because it was good, is about the best I could come up with.

Stitches by David Small: This might be one of the most emotionally devastating books I’ve ever read (right up there with Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye).

Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O’Malley: Duh.

Non-Fiction
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken: I don’t read a lot of non-fiction. So this category gets the leftover book. Since I couldn’t include The Giant’s House (which is in my top three all-time favorite novels) because of the date restriction I get to work McCracken onto the list because of her heartbreaking memoir which was the best book I read in 2008.

By Jodi Chromey {3 comments}

26.Jul.10 in Misc. {6 comments}

The irony of turning 10

The irony here is that on Saturday I Will Dare will celebrate it’s 10th Anniversary. It’s ironic because this month is probably the worst blogging month I’ve had in my blogging tenure. Blog.

Some days I panic and worry that I’ve become a victim of the social media monster, spending all my wit in 140-character chunks that are instantly disseminated to my “followers” and “friends.” But then I only need look at my Twitter stream to realize that one to two tweets a day is hardly all my wit.

I got leagues more wit (or whatever unit they measure wit by) than that.

Other days I worry that I’m just over the Internet. I’m sick of the (oh yes, yes, I’m whipping out the D word because it is the most apropos here) douchebaggy self-promotion and personal branding and pimping for clients. It’s all douchebags, pimps, and pushers — that’s the internet. I can think of about six people who manage the self-promotion without being totally annoying (two of whom I happen to be friends with, and I don’t say that just because they are my friends).

But then I realize that without the Internet I would have never known there was a movement to get Delaney and Bonnie into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. I know this because while watching my daily “Roseanne” reruns I got to wondering who exactly Roseanne’s friend Bonnie was and if she was some famous singer (on the show she’s married to a character played by David Crosby). Turns out Bonnie was the first white Ikette (think Tina and Ike Turner) and the ONLY Allman Sister.

How rad is that? The fact that this information exists out on the Internet is proof that I’ll never be over it.

So what does it all mean? It means I’m in a rut. It means I haven’t had much to say and while that doesn’t always stop me, I’ve fallen off the writing wagon and haven’t managed to get back up.

But oh this week, if nothing else, this week will be different, because I plan to fill it with top 10 lists in honor of the auspicious blogiversary (and I’m open to Top 10 suggestions because right now I got Top 10 Roseanne episodes and Top 10 things I coulda wrote about but didn’t)

By Jodi Chromey {6 comments}

21.Jul.10 in Books {No comments}

Bureaucracy is a bore

I wanted to read American Widow by Alissa Torres ever since I spied it on Largehearted Boy’s list of favorite graphic novels of 2008. When it arrived in a big box of books David sent me I was giddy. I was intrigued for years by the bare bones of the story — young woman loses husband on 9-11 while seven months pregnant. Yikes, right?

So I was ready when I popped open the cover on a rainy Saturday — Kleenex and a big bottle of water to stave off the dehydration that can come when one sheds a copious amounts of tears. Bring it on, I said.

I’m sad to report, it was not brought. It feels callous to diss on a book written by a young widow who lost her husband in a great, senseless tragedy, especially a young widow who is now raising their son alone. But you know what? I have to say this book left me cold. While it was quite educational, it was not emotionally gripping.

What the what what? How can this story so fraught with sadness not be gripping?

On the surface when you summarize the story in a few sentences, it is: In August 1998, Eddie and Alissa have a whirlwind romance in NYC and after seven months spent dancing throughout the city and falling in love, they marry. Fast forward to the wee small hours of the morning of September 11th, 2001 Alissa, seven months pregnant, lies awake next to her husband too angry to sleep. She turns her head from him when he kisses her goodbye before he leaves for his new job at Cantor Fitzgerald in the north tower of the World Trade Center. It’s his second day working there.

As planes crash into the towers, Alissa walks their dog and ponders leaving Eddie. Why she’s so angry we never find out. As a reader I was unsure if we don’t find out because in the aftermath of what happened on September 11th it just didn’t matter, or if the author was protecting her dead husband.

The rest of the book follows Alissa as she copes with the loss of her husband, the birth of her son, and the rollercoaster-y ride of being simultaneously pitied, lauded, and resented as the wife of someone killed in 9-11.

The book loses a lot of its emotional steam by spending a significant amount of time depicting how Alissa was forced to wade through an ocean of red tape to receive the money donated to the victims of 9-11. While this is educational and offers a new perspective on the way victims were treated after the tragedy, it doesn’t make for interesting reading. Maybe just seeing the first time the American Red Cross failed her would have been okay, but there are pages and pages and pages dedicated to the bureaucratic failings of the different disaster-relief agencies formed or in place to help victims. The bureaucrats’ insensitivity was horrifying, but reading about and seeing drawings of someone sitting in front of a desk . . . it’s just not interesting – narratively or visually.

This is a book that would have been served better by not being a graphic novel. As I turned each page I felt as though I was missing part of the story. The reader is left to glean a lot of information from the drawings, and they just aren’t up to the task. I think Torres’ story is one that’s important and needs to be told, it’s just not one that needs to be told graphically.

By Jodi Chromey {No comments}

19.Jul.10 in Writing {2 comments}

From the advice-I-won’t-be-heeding file

Last week I had my first workshop in Short Short Fiction. For as much as I’m struggling with this class, it went really, really well. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

I’m struggling because I’m still not sure about what makes something a short short story (aside from length). About 50% of the things we read feel like complete stories. They’re satisfying and don’t leave me thinking what the fuck. The other half of the stories leave me crying “what the fuck?” in the middle of class.

I keep pestering Eric, our teacher, for the answers. Like there’s some sort of formula X-(3)+ny5x66= short short. I need rules. I need guidelines. His answer does not satisfy me. It’s a short short because it works.

All this sort of writing anarchy leaves me feeling kind of queasy and makes me think I’m back in poetry.

Because of my unease, I’m not sure what to do with the feedback from the workshop. It really was a good workshop. People had a lot of nice things to say, and the not nice things they said I agreed with. Their comments made sense in the context they were given for a standalone story. What I wrote was a 500-word story that works as summation of my bowling alley collection.

Tonight, I was going through the handwritten comments. They cracked me up. First, because over half of my classmates reiterated what Eric had said in class. In case I didn’t hear him, they all wrote it on their pages. I know they wrote it after he said it because all the comments were two-tone, written in two different pens.

What made me chuckle the most was the classmate who went through and underlined the gerunds in my first two paragraphs and wrote “too many adjectives.” For good measure, he/she also did the same for a few paragraphs on the second page, again with the “too many adjectives” admonishment.

Yeah.

Sadly, that still only comes in as #2 on Top 10 list of Least Helpful Advice.

The top spot still belongs to (and probably always will) belong to Johnny the Greek who wrote “this story would be better if you were funnier” on my story.

By Jodi Chromey {2 comments}

18.Jul.10 in Books {No comments}

And apparently now Elizabeth Wakefield cries when she orgasms

It’s taken me over 72 hours to find the words to explain what happened on Thursday.

Thursday started out like most any other day — peanut butter, apples, a little work, a little bit of “Roseanne.” But then the afternoon came and while trolling through the Google Reader I tripped over a link to Sweet Valley Confidential: Ten Years Later. Oh, that fateful link where you could sign up to have the first chapter of the book e-mailed to you. How could I resist?

If there were a time machine I’d give everything I own, even my autographed Cat’s Cradle for a chance to go back to Thursday morning and cut-off my clicking finger before it hovered near that link.

Because on Thursday morning Elizabeth Wakefield was nothing more than a sort of imaginary, fictional Barbie-doll-like character who populated a lot of my adolescent fantasies of what teenagedom was like. She was the bubbly, blonde, bookish newspaper reporter who was kind of nerdy and still beautiful. She was, of course, everything I wanted to be, (rich, blond, thin, 5’6″, popular, loved, Californian) and in my head, in my imaginary best version of myself I was just like her except taller and Minnesotan.

As you know, I obsessed over Sweet Valley High when I was younger, which is why I had to click the link. I had to, SVH is the very foundation of which my booknerdery is built on.

On Thursday afternoon, Elizabeth Wakefield turned from beloved childhood idol to an unbelievable, coy character with awful taste in music in a poorly-written romance novel who, apparently, cried whenever she had orgasms.

Yes, not only does Elizabeth Wakefield have sex, she has sex where she climaxes and has had enough sex that orgasms trigger some sort of memory that turn her into a teary mess.

Bittersweet Valley, I guess.

I tell myself, as a way to process this event, that I could have handled the Lizzie orgasms if the writing were better. Maybe if the point of view didn’t randomly jump into another character for a sentence before bouncing back to Elizabeth, the orgasms wouldn’t have been such a shock. Maybe if she seemed like an actual person who had lived through something, crying through orgasms would make sense. But it doesn’t! It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

The whole thing makes me a sad. Sad because the people behind Sweet Valley Confidential are, literally, picking up where they left off — cardboard, unbelievable characters in improbable situations. Don’t they realize that over the last, oh, 25 years, the audience for this book might have developed a little bit of taste? It’s not like I’m expecting Amy Bloom here, but come on.

I would love to read a book where Elizabeth and Jessica and the rest of the Sweet Valley gang are developed into actual characters with stuff at stake. Perhaps, I want too much. But it’s Sweet Valley’s fault because it was that series that truly ignited my passion for books. It would be nice if they recognized that. Not just for me, but for the entire generation of women who grew up with their hearts and imaginations in Sweet Valley.

By Jodi Chromey {No comments}

17.Jul.10 in Misc. {9 comments}

Excuses

As someone who is coming up on her 10th Blog Anniversary (July 31), I’m doing a horseshit job of blogging lately. I’ve spent a moderate amount of time feeling guilty. But then last week Justin, who runs Minn Post’s Blog Cabin sent an e-mail saying that there’s been a 30% drop in submissions since summer began.

I feel much better. It’s not me, it’s the weather. Don’t you feel better now?

By Jodi Chromey {9 comments}

11.Jul.10 in Books {No comments}

Anxiously awaiting July 20th

The last time we visited our favorite Canadian Hipster doofus, he was getting in deep with Ramona Flowers, she of the seven evil exes. So deep that the couple has shacked up. What? Our favorite slacker has gotten a job and a live-in girlfriend? How can this be.

Alas, it is s. But no need to worry the Scott Pilgrim manages to make becoming a grown up totally awesome.

Volume five opens with Scott’s birthday party where he proclaims he’s going to be the best 24-year-old ever. But being 24 isn’t proving too easy for Scott. Two of Ramona’s evil-exes are back and they brought robots.

ROBOTS!

Did you just nearly faint with glee? Because I did. So there are the robots and Ramona’s head keeps doing this weird-glowy thing whenever she’s upset. It’s been glowing a lot. Especially when good ol’ Knives Chau comes around to kick Ramona’s ass. See, Knives just found out that while Scott was dating her he as also starting to see Ramona. Knives gets the best line in this book:

You stole him with with your advanced American slut technology. You are not nice!

Like Knives, Ramona is none-too-thrilled to learn of the cheating. But after getting shit-faced drunk at a party she seems to have forgiven Scott.

But for poor Scott things get worse. While Ramona showers and contemplates the future of their relationship, Scott’s BFF Kim (the drummer in Sex-Bob-Omb) is kidnapped by the evil-exes. When he returns from saving his life, Ramona tries to make a confession and then disappears. Left in her wake is a letter labeled “Gideon” and a strange cat.

The rest of the book follows Scott as he copes with his loss.

Most of Volume 5 feels a little bit like a ramp up to Volume 6 (out July 20). Kind of like how the movie Spiderman felt like it’s sole purpose was to introduce characters for Spiderman 2 where all the good stuff takes place. That’s what Volume 5 is. . . scene setting. Funny, entertaining scene-setting, but scene-setting nonetheless.

I still can’t wait for Volume 6. I’m obsessed. And terrified. I’m not sure what kind of ending will be satisfying, but I have faith that Bryan Lee O’Malley can pull it off.

By Jodi Chromey {No comments}

09.Jul.10 in Books {No comments}

Raising the emotional stakes

Every time I start to write about one of the books in the Scott Pilgrim series, I thumb through the book to refresh my memory. Without fail, each page I land on brings a giant smile to my face. It’s probably my job as a “reviewer” (in quotes because I’m not sure I really review books so much as talk about them and being a book talker sounds dumb) to explain exactly what it is about these books that’s so appealing. Now I’m talking about Volume 4 of the six-volume series and I still haven’t captured the magic.

Perhaps Scott Pilgrim is something you have to experience. After I finished the first two volumes, I loaned them to my 11-year-old nephew Max. He devoured them quickly and asked for the rest of the series. He finished it in a day or two. That’s how awesome these books are.

I am not surprised that Max and I love the books equally. He probably got all the video game references and inside jokes that went right by me. I’d also wager he didn’t get many (if any) of the indie rock references. See? There’s something for everyone.

Volume 4, Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together finds Scott at an emotional crossroads. He can either continue on in his unemployed, sharing a bed with Wallace, his gay roommate, ways or he can pony up and act like an adult.

This inability to grow up or at least start acting like a grown-up puts a lot of strain on Scott’s relationship with Ramona. While you can tell she loves him, she’s really ready for him to start putting some effort into life.

Then, of course there’s the exes to deal with — for both Scott and Ramona. Scott’s ex is less on the evil side and more on the romantically dangerous side. Ramona’s ex is, of course, evil, but not an ex-boyfriend. Shock!

This volume is not as full of the silly videogame fighting (though still with the life as a videogame stuff — Scott gets 999 exp points when he gets a job), it does a lot of move the story of Ramona and Scott’s relationship forward. It’s nice because you can see O’Malley raising the emotional stakes as the series races to its conclusion. And gah, I cannot wait for Volume 6 to come out.

By Jodi Chromey {No comments}