What Would Salander Do?

Courtesy of The Telegraph

Lisbeth wouldn't be caught dead running a race.

Since discovering the Swedish films last year (finally), and the books (again finally) this year, the character Vogue said people say is today's Scarlet O'Hara role has become more than the entertaining protagonist of the Millenium trilogy for me.

She's become someone who makes the activities I do seem kinda pointless.

The girl with the dragon tattoo, who also played with fire and kicked the hornet's nest, makes choices solely based on consequences. Due to her quintessentially fucked up childhood. If it won't get her hurt, institutionalized, or require any pointless socialization or activity, Lisbeth Salander will, well might, do it.

Coffee, Coke, cigarettes, sandwiches. Black. Boots. Mac electronics. These are necessities. Fighting violence against women. Also a necessity. Sex? Any gender will do. Revenge? Serve it frigid. If she's going to splurge, it'll be on a motorcycle, a room with a view, IKEA furniture, or by taking down a serial killer, billion-dollar thief, or sex trade ring leader - also her dad - without anything but a keyboard. Or a nail gun.

So maybe she would consider running the Pensacola half-marathon if she knew it would help her run away from bad people, or chase them down.

Nope, she'll never be a Salander.

However, as I jogged along with some buds on Sunday, I started to feel less and less like a bad-ass and more and more like a sack of pulp with gravel in my joints and ugly black-and-blue toenails. Aw well. At least I can prepare and hope for an ethical foot chase in my future.

Tip: Read each book and chase it with each Swedish movie available via Netflix streaming.

Note: The American version due out this Christmas will not be as good. But go see it anyway despite the slight, but expensive, slap in the face to the Swedes. Director David Fincher made me feel a little better about wanting to see it when he told Vogue this:

"We are walking in other people's footsteps, and we have to be careful." 

That's right you do. Rooney is no Noomi. Daniel no Michael. Despite the looks. But we all still want to see the American interpretation ... Damn it.

PS
Harriet's hair is still not right in the U.S. version. How hard is it to find a black-haired Harriet?!

PPS
Per entertainment, if your'e not watching Homeland, you should be. Showtime On Demand that shit.

WordGirl for Grown-ups

In a world of electronic communication, spelling is easy with spell check but grammar, and thus meaning, sometimes suffers. This doesn't mean that shortened words in text messages and incomplete sentences in e-mails are not okay. They are.

(Especially in blogs, where all rules are your own.)

But a quick read through for clarity, or professionalism, or whatever the intention of the medium is, is even cooler. Your reader will like you more for it. Lisbeth would never turn in a Milton security report in less than perfect form. But I also don't see her spelling out every 'u2' or '&' and adding superfluous commas in a message to a fellow hacker. She would, however, make her point clear - the ark of communication.

Word of the day: Quintessential. Adjective. Representing the most perfect or typical example.

Tumblr Treats

WHATEVER DOESN'T FIT.

You stub your toe, think I deserve this.

You step lightly for two days, doing ledger work behind those wide, round eyes.
A leaf caught in the fence. Rain against the windowpanes.
You see the sunlight, think it’s a gift. 
You deserve it, after all.
You see your mistakes, think they’re reversible. Think you can do better next time.
You gain some ground, think it’s an accomplishment and not a reprieve.
You’re a pattern maker.
Double stitching disparate elements into something pretty to wear to the funeral.
The event is just the event.
The moment only counts when you’re still living in it.
Don’t connect the dots.

Just eat the berries.

You deserve it.

Come on, Come on, It's the end of the world

I like to do things the same way over and over again. Like how I will always wash my face last in the shower, or take six gulps from the water fountain, or leave before I am left. And maybe it’s because I’m scared, or maybe it’s because I know I will be too reckless. I’ve scraped my knees more times than I can count, but don’t you know that’s how I tell when it’s time to stand back up? My heart hasn’t started beating any slower, and I haven’t gotten any farther than I already am. I’ve cut my hair once or twice and that was change enough for me, and god damn my knees won’t stop bleeding. I read, you know. Vonnegut and Nietzsche and all those other great authors. I couldn’t tell you shit about them or what they said, but I wanted to sound worldly and you wouldn’t guess it but I haven’t read a new book in a year, rather I’ve been reading summaries to make pleasant conversation when silence falls awkwardly at our feet just like my dress on the floor. For christsakes, my knees are dug into the gravel in the same way my nails dig into your skin. I always stick my feet out from under the covers, you know. They just get so god damn hot, and maybe there’s a chance that the stories our parents told were true and the boogeyman exists and he’ll steal you away in the night if you’ve been a bad person. I still have nightmares, and I still can’t visit cemeteries because I don’t belong, and I’m still afraid of getting lost, and I’m so fucking tired of scraping my knees.

Courtesy of BPRMedia

Learn more about the man behind Salander, Stieg Larsson, the author who's best-selling books were published posthumously.