It was famous comic people night in Anne’s head

I had a beautifully long post here about a very strange dream I had.

I met comic author Lea Hernandez and her son at the supermarket, and they helped me find the right yarn for the project I want to knit (it was in the refrigerated section between the Coca Cola and the milk), and we all got free cookies that Fox picked out because i won a contest at the supermarket.

Then I went to a party with my friend Steen and her daughter at a ski lodge, where some of the guests from another party, including Neil Gaiman, thought our party was cooler so they joined us. (Neil had planned to hang out with Scott McCloud and Amanda Palmer, but Scott was sick and Amanda was in New Zealand. Scott, if you’re reading this, get well soon! Amanda, I don’t know if you’re really in New Zealand right now, but it sounds awesome.)

Then we all went back to my house (which wasn’t my house – it was located where my parents house is, but it was my friend Camille’s parents’ mountain cabin from that trip we took 20 years ago) but we got lost on the way. This happens so often in my dreams that it didn’t even stress me out (this time). Friends shouldn’t let friends dream and drive. But if you have to dream and drive, it helps to invest in a good dream-based GPS, which apparently I had with me, in the purse I carried in high school.

Once at my house, we figured out who would be sleeping where (Steen and her kid got the big bed because there was a Tinkerbell decal with “Christine” over the bed, and Neil Gaiman was totally OK with taking one of the two twin air mattresses on the floor. My brother took the other one.) and we got down to the task of partying, which consisted of some people jamming on the guitar, others talking about writing, and still others playing Killer Bunnies.

The reason I wrote this beautifully long post was because as I wrote it, I realized that a whole bunch of situations that would have totally stressed me out when awake (like, how do you ask an autistic kid to help you at the supermarket? Is it rude to just assume he could and would help? And how do you say “Just pull up a chair,” to Neil. Fucking. Gaiman? And is it really OK to give the only guest bed to the person with the kid when you have people with bad backs and people who get cold easily and famous people in the house? And why do all my dream parties look like high school theater cast parties?) totally failed to stress me out at all.

In fact, I woke up because in the dream I was starting to stress out about what I looked like and suddenly had the need to put makeup on (which, by the way, I screwed up. I painted lip gloss on my eyeball, trying to use the lip gloss as eye shadow) and guests started asking me questions like “Do you really think Neil Gaiman wants to be at YOUR party?” and I realized I must be dreaming because I hadn’t been stressed out about this stuff the whole night and it was stupid to put on makeup just because someone famous I wanted to be friends with was at my party.

It turns out I am a much better person when my left brain is asleep, because my right brain doesn’t care if people might be offended or might think I’m a no-talent hack or stupid or ugly or I haven’t updated my comic in months. My right brain says, “say hi, be polite, and you might get something awesome.”

My left brain tries to put green lip gloss on my eyeball to make me look pretty for my guests, all the while telling me I can’t possibly look pretty enough for them to like me. Like whether I look nice was going to matter to Lea Hernandez and her son.

And then I had to exit the post for a split second because of an incoming text message, and WordPress ate the entire goddamned beautiful post.

I lost easily a half hour of writing, nuance, and description on a dream that it now rapidly fading from my mind as it’s replaced by grouchy dog whining.

So goodbye beautiful post and beautiful dream, good morning world, and fuck you WordPress app. I’m going to go feed the dogs.

More weird shit.

Here’s another roundup of weird shit brought to you by the Internet.

Dave Letterman’s best top 10 list:

Oh, and finally, this keeps cracking me up on TV:

I think Twitter’s just randomly redisplaying my favorites now, so that ought to hold you for a while.

In other news, Coraline 3D (a review)

Coraline 3D: What it is

It’s a mooovie. Duh. ;)

OK, so adding a little more detail here…

Neil Gaiman wrote a book called Coraline, about a little girl in a new apartment who feels like her parents are ignoring her. As is wont to happen in these types of tales, she discovers a door to another world, similar to hers, where her Other Mother and Other Father dote on her and give her everything she wants… until things go a bit eery.

There’s also quite a bit of freakyness around buttons.

Coraline won the Hugo and Nebula awards for Best Novella for the year 2003, and also won the Locus Award, the 2002 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a Work for Young Readers and the 2002 British Science Fiction Award for short fiction. Not bad for an Intermediate-level book…. if you really want to classify it, because I haven’t found an adult yet who didn’t like it.

The movie is out in two versions: normal, and Real3D. I saw the 3D version on Sunday afternoon.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

  • The movie is just the right length, and will keep you interested the whole way through. I was in a theater full of children and most of the time you could have heard a pin drop.
  • The story, while not exactly the same as the book (for example, there’s an extra character added in) is faithful to the tone and intent of the original. It’s funny, creepy, and a touch heartwarming, without getting stupid or sappy.
  • The rendering of the movie is absolutely gorgeous. It’s done in stop-motion animation the old-fashioned way, but if you’re picturing Clash of the Titans-style cheesy effects, no worries. You really can’t tell that computers weren’t used for this… except that, well, it feels a little more real. A lot of the computer animated films, even the Pixars I love, will jar you out of a state of suspended disbelief with a too-clean-to-be-real shot at some point during the film, but that never happened during Coraline.
  • The 3D effects are used to enhance the film, which is a nice change over the usual jump-at-you screen effects that folks love to slip into 3D stuff. If this film wasn’t in 3D, it would still be totally awesome. Since it is in 3D, it’s that much better.

Cons:

  • The Real 3D effects take some time to get used to, so don’t get to the theater late. As strange as this sounds, you’re going to want to watch the previews in 3D to give your brain time to adjust.
  • Speaking of the Real 3D effects, this is more a technology thing than the fault of the movie, but they still haven’t found a way to do fast-moving action shots so they don’t look like they stutter a little bit. Especially noticeable were the dragonflies, but it seemed the larger the item the less my brain tripped over it.
  • The soundtrack was… well… I think I was hoping for something out of a Miyazaki film, but it wasn’t quite that enchanting. Creepy? Yes, at times. But very much in the background. If you like your soundtracks in the background – good news! I, um, like a soundtrack I can also listen to while I work.

What I didn’t know until I saw it

If you’re seeing the 3D, take Tylenol in advance so you don’t get a headache. Nighthawk did, I didn’t. I’ve learned.

Who should watch it

Counting down, anyone from ages 126 to… um…. roughly 7 or 8. I didn’t find it frightening (then again, I’ve read the book) but I can see where 25 years ago it might’ve given me a good freakout. (The Neil Gaiman trailer above, on the other hand, well, that still freaks me out.) Since I’m one of the easiest people in the world to freak out, that’s a good sign for everyone.

In summary…

You have roughly 2 weeks to catch Coraline in 3D before it’s only available in non-3D. Regardless of the level of highway robbery currently being practiced by your local theater for 3D films, this one is worth every penny, and you should take the time to go see it.

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