Tag Archives: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Baby, Seasons Change but People Don’t.

30 Jan

What season is it now?

Don’t give me that “winter” garbage. It’s not winter. I’m not counting down the days until Christmas anymore, and when I put on a sweater, no one looks at me and sings”sweater weather!” They look… sad.

Obviously it’s not spring. I wore a t-shirt last week and if it hadn’t been for a selfless act of love, my heart would have frozen solid. I saw a swarm of eleven beautiful robins yesterday, but I think they were arguing about who had gotten them lost.

My personal sanity hinges on having something oming up to look forward to, and the nearest celebration is Super Bowl Sunday, which is the one dy a year I hope no one talks to me about what’s on TV.

So, what season is it now? I have the answer. It’s the first season of A Series of Unfortunate Events, honey. And it’s phenomenal.

Patrick Warburton’s portrayal of Lemony Snicet is at once upsetting and delightful, a mixture only ever associated with the Lemony Snicket I know and love. The writing is a marvelous marriage of the classic books and new ideas. The incrdible cast is frosting on the cake and Daniel Handler’s Hitchcock-esque cameos are the sprinkles on the frosting on the cake.

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I started to read the Austere Academy again when I finihed the series to better imagie how Netflix is going to bring it to life in season two. Listen. Listen. No one s more excited about Carmelita Spats than I am, and I will fight you on that.

I don’t want to give any spoilers to any o you who haven’t inished yet, so I will close with this – nothing could make me happier than to know that this horrible, wretched, depressing story is being televisd to reach and repel as large a goup of people as possible.

It’s exactly the opposite of what Mr. Snicket would want.

Now. If you’re done feeling annoyed by my grammatical errors, then take a figurative page out of Lemony Snicket’s literal book (Specifically, The Wide Window) and find out what I’m really trying to say here. 

The world is quiet here.

Trailer Breakdown for An Unfortunate Teaser

5 Jul

Before I begin, I have to make two things clear.

1) Today, when I say “I’m crying,” I don’t mean in an angsty way.

2) Today, when I say “I’m crying,” I am not joking. I am 100%, hand over my heart, experiencing Mr. misty eyes syndrome and my nose is stuffed up and my voice is cracking.

I’m crying.

And it’s all because of this glittering pile of book-adapted treasure that has come to ruin my life and make sure I can’t focus on a single thing for the duration of the new week.

The day has come.

Click here to watch the official teaser for the TV series adaption of A Series of Unfortunate Events, and then stroll on back for some well-placed shrieks of anguish.

And in case you are tempted to say I didn’t warn you, remember, the illusive Lemony Snicket tried to stop you from the very Bad Beginning.

“In this [show], not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning and very few happy things in the middle.”

*melancholy music begins*
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Straight ahead, you’ll see an LP for the one and only Lemony Snicket tribute band. Behind you, you’ll see me, weeping with anguish and unable to speak.
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“Wow,” you breathe. “What a gorgeous set.” You find I am unable to reply, having begun to tear my hair.
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“Geez,” you comment. “That’s a little terrifying.” You stop talking when you realize I excused myself a few minutes ago to scream into a pillow in the room next door.
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Fun fact: While I was taking these screencaps in my room with the lights off, I was feverishly whispering under my breath “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
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Okay, that wasn’t a fun fact. But you know what is? That this is definitely a scene from the Reptile Room (Book the Second).
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And that those two tickets in the top left corner are to a Marvelous Marriage (Book the First).
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That the Mushroom Minutiae isn’t going to be incorporated until Book the Eleventh and that therefore I have no logical reason not to expect that the entire series is going to be coming to dark, miserable life.soue_8

Oh, and we can’t forget the Lucky Smells Lumbermill (Book the Fourth), the backdrop to my favorite recurring nightmares. Can’t wait to relive that horror show. soue_9

It’s hard to put into words just how I feel about the VFD eye on the top book getting represented on screen just the way it was illustrated in the original canon, but try to imagine waking up and finding that literally the only thing you wanted from TV for a good six years of your life is happening for real in YOUR REAL LIFE LIKE  W O W  CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING FOR REAL
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Give me three forlorn orphans making the most out of the worst conditions imaginable (more specifically, making puttanesca out of the worst conditions imaginable).
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Give me inventing and reading and biting.soue_12

Give me Lachrymose Leeches and Incredibly Deadly Vipers and give mesoue_13 soue_14

“… Count Olaf. It was the bad guy.”

Lemony Snicket
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Do my hands normally shake like this?

soue_17Netflix has always been good to us, but today? Today it has given us a Vastly Fantastic Donative, (a word which here means “gift”) and we should all spend a moment in silence in respect to the man who sacrificed his own relative happiness and well-being to bring us the sad tale of the Baudelaire orphans.

It would only be appropriate to close with his words –

“Waiting is one of life’s hardships.”

________

Someone, please. Hold me.

______________________

EDIT: It has come to my attention that this trailer has been largely dismissed as fan-made. I can respect that (actually it’s way more impressive if it is fan-made), however, I would like to kindly remind you, while staying open to any and all outcomes, that the man who said this was a hoax was also the man that wrote “Please don’t read this” on the back of every book of a series that sold over 60 million copies world-wide.

I’m pretty interested to see how this pans out.

Adventures in Anxiety

22 May

Responsibility. Money. The future. Relationships.

If you’re anything like me, you’re considering opening another tab to look at cute pictures of sweater-wearing kittens now, because those words just made you nervous. And if you weren’t considering the kittens then, you are now. Who could blame you, though?

Anyway, you’re in good company.

Anxiety. It’s been around so long, most of us greet him like an old friend (albeit one of those friends that makes you screen your calls and want to hide in a closet when he’s around). I usually deal with my anxiety with what I have dubbed the “Calvin and Hobbes” method.

It involves pretending I don’t have to deal with anything, and retreating into my own mind.

This isn’t a very efficient method, but hey, it…

Hm.

I actually have zero validation for that method. But I think you get the picture. Anxiety makes cowards and madmen of all its unlucky victims. 

Anxiety always starts for me because I’m thinking too hard – but never about the right things. And it doesn’t help that it always seems to happen at bedtime, when my mind is already going haywire. The voices in my head (maybe I should not admit to having those) start coming up with all sorts of great ideas at night.

“Hey! You know what would be fun to think about? What other people think about you!”

“No.”

“Remember that one stupid thing you did two and half years ago?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I remember. And so does everyone else.”

“I don’t want to think about it, Brain!”

“I bet everyone else is. Hey, I have an idea! Let’s think about every stupid thing you’ve ever done ever!”

“BRAIN WAT R U DOING STAHP”

“Are you thinking in memes? That’s pretty sad.”

“I know. Sorry.”

I just admitted that I sometimes think in internet memes. My mind will never let me live this one down. Of course, it’s been wreaking havoc on me for quite a while. Why would it stop now?

Years ago, my brain decided fourteen-year-old girls were the scariest beings imaginable. I’m not sure why the age of fourteen stood out to me in particular, but it did. I remember going to youth group, seeing the clique of fourteen-year-olds giggling in a corner and hoping beyond hope that they didn’t notice I was existing so close to them. This fear lasted until I was well into fourteen years old myself, and finally realized that maybe – just maybe – this was one of those irrational fears, like fear of welcome mats, doorknobs, or realtors.

Not long after this I became aware of my phone anxiety. This one made about as much sense as dodging female junior highers did. Talking on the phone made me twitchy, unhappy, and altogether the most awkward person you could ever talk to on the telephone.

I’m better now, I promise. Not great, but better. However, I still feel that if I can’t look someone in the face when we’re talking, I feel like I’m missing out on most of the conversation.

Mostly, though, I become anxious because it’s just my nature.

I’m selfish. I want everything to be comfortable and low-stress and low-responsibility and I will stress out and run away if my environment does not promise those things. However, what I’ve found out is that the world into which I must soon launch myself does not promise that. And I’m gonna have a hard time running away from the entire world. At least unless my fantasy back-up plan kicks in and I can just run away with the

“The Doctor isn’t real, you know.”

“SHUT UP BRAIN, YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR.”

I probably shouldn’t have finished that sentence anyway. I’ll just leave it there.

All this to say,

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” Luke 12:25

In all my years of worrying as hard as I can, I have never worried away a problem. You can take my word for it. Because, chances are, running away from the world and its responsibilities may not actually get you anywhere worth going.

Unless, of course, you have a really fabulous back-up plan.