Have you seen the new teaser poster for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2?
The comment was made here that the series has matured incredibly since the first film:
I feel like I am one of the lucky ones to be someone who grew up in a way with Harry Potter (as cheesy as that might sound). I feel like I've been about the same age as the characters almost the whole time, and the Harry Potter books make up a huge part of my childhood post-elementary school. Anyway! That's only a part of the reason why I love it so much. Sidetrack.
I also recently became aware (from here) of a deleted scene from DH part 1 that was released pre-DVD (which comes out April 6th-- woohoo!). Take a gander:
Also, just because, here are a couple of neat videos to check out:
Monday night marked the occasion of my very second concert (not including the strange Christian Rock concert I went to for reasons I still don't understand). I wasn't terribly excited because I knew there was no way it could outshine my very first concert experience. In any case, it didn't start off with a (good) bang.
The time on our tickets said the doors opened at 6pm and the show began at 7pm. Two of my roommates went early, and my other roommate and I arrived at 7pm. Unfortunately, the folks at Velour must have slept in, because the doors didn't open until 8pm. We spent the hour in the shadow of the building, forlornly watching the thermometer at the bank across the street as the temperature slowly dropped from 32 degrees, to 31, to 30...and finally the doors opened. There was then a good 45 minutes of sitting on the hard wooden benches under the vigorously blowing fans before at last the first opening act ascended the stage: Cubworld, a large bearded Hawai'ian man and his accompianists. I'd heard a few of Cubworld's songs a couple of years ago, and they seemed mellow and nice, but this time around, it was quite different, way more rock-y. After Cubworld came Cas Haley, another large bearded man who was very fun and funny as he sang. He gained a lot of respect from me until he sang a song about legalizing marijuana, which was just ridiculous. But I'm still going to brag about how he pushed past me in the crowd afterward at least three times.
Finally, FINALLY, Trevor Hall's band came on stage to set up, and one of my roommates and I weasled our way up through the harangue to the front where the rest of our party was standing excitedly waiting. As we were waiting, listening to the incomprehensible music coming over the speakers and chatting casually, I felt a sharp pain in my back, as though someone had rammed their cranium into my shoulder blade, which is actually what happened, as some random hipster dude in tight pants had passed out onto me. This definitely happens to me a lot-- a girl passed out on my feet during a boring tour of the Denver Public Library on our King Tut trip last semester. Actually, people passing out kind of freaks me out a little, because I feel obligated to use my first aid skills. Not that I don't want to, I just don't want to find out at the wrong time that I'm incompetent.
Anyway, after that episode, fog filled the room, a sitar hummed, and Trevor Hall descended from the ceiling. Just kidding. He walked on stage nonchalantly, feet bare, jeans cuffed, prayer beads and dreadlocks swinging. Most of the songs the band played at first, I hadn't heard (apparently the 18-song CD my roommates made for me in preparation wasn't half of what he has put out), and I was beginning to feel a bit ridiculous, and the French Composition I had yet to write began to nag at the back of my mind. The two boys at my left pushed past me to show a message to the two girls at my right (which read something to the effect of "Let's hook up after the show"), and I felt even more ridiculous. The drummer suddenly was the only one on stage, playing a crazy solo that could've been at any metal show (but what do I know). But then, the noise stopped and the drummer disappeared, Trevor Hall walked back up on stage, the crowd obnoxiously began yelling requests, Trevor Hall felt embarrassed and criticized and shyly began to play his solo song, and I had a revelation.
He played a song called "Te Amo," and it was beautiful. I can't get it out of my mind, and as we all stood silently taking in the simple melody and poetic lyrics, I surprisingly felt like crying. The whole night, the crowd had been loud and crazy, and suddenly we all felt the same quiet peace. At risk of getting far too overly cheesey, I'll leave it at that, but really, there was something there.
Trevor Hall playing "Te Amo" (that's actually a lie, but it's the best picture of T-Hall by himself)
Listen (ignore the chit-chat and just focus on the song):
After "Te Amo," the band came back and they all played a number of other songs, one of which was "Om Shakti Om" (yeah). During the chorus, we all clapped in time and sang "Om Shakti Om" (those exact words) together, and my French essay faded away, and the criticism I knew would come when I recounted these events to certain people subsided (but now that I'm thinking about it again, I fully expect the criticism to come!), and we jumped and clapped and chanted/sang together and it was wonderful.
There were a few more songs, including a two-song encore, a slightly random poetry recitation (of the song "My Baba"), and then came the last song, the only one played that night (besides some Bob Marley remixes from Cas Haley & Trevor Hall) that I knew all the words to-- "Lime Tree," one of my favorite songs that appeared on the CD from my roommates.
The band playing some song
When the concert finally ended, and the crowd rushed to greet Mr. Hall, my roommate and I pressed our way through the throng and finally escaped into the cold air, away from the smells of patchouli and energy drink. We ran quickly to our car, still on a high, ears ringing in the way they do after over-exposure, much like how everything appears green when you come inside from a bright day. As soon as we were home we went directly to bed, and I let the memories of the sounds sink in, smiling a little as I realized it was okay that hippies were silly, because sometimes it's nice just to let go. ----- Check out these good songs by Trevor Hall if you're interested: Te Amo (see above) Lime Tree Other Ways To Zion 31 Flavors Unity ...and a few others. If you're interested, let me know and I'll send you some more.
P.S. If you get the movie reference from the title, kudos to you!
A few days ago, I noticed that there were flowers growing on the side of the house! This is totally normal, we have tons of flowering plants around the yard, but it's only the beginning of March! These are the first flowers I've seen growing in a long, long time. I'm totally stoked to see these purples beauties, and I hope the rest of the yard (and state!) quickly follows.
I meant to write this on Tuesday, so I'm going to pretend like it still is, because it's more relevant that way.
Today is Tuesday, March 8, 2011! According to the Maya calendar (as I was informed today by my Mayan Archaeology professor), the date is:
12.19.18.3.6, 13 Cimi, 19 Kayab
Those numbers refer to the different position on the Maya calendar that today is. Bear with me, this may get complicated. There are two calenders that the Maya used-- a 260-day one and a 360-day one. The two calenders combined created a calender that you rotated through in which there were periods of days with one name (pretty much like our months), and a certain number of days that made up units that were numbered (like March 11, for example). With the two calenders combined you get two names for each day. The system kind of looks like a series of gears rotating and lining up periodically.
You cycle through these and no day will be repeated until the end of a cycle. A cycle typically lasts about 52 years (although there is a longer cycle that I don't really get...), and then the calender realigns at "1." These 52-year cycles are rather like our centuries, and the Maya celebrated them like we do. Part of the celebration was carried out in fear, however, because the Maya believed, like many of us do, that one day the world would end. The end of the world would occur, they believed, at the end of one of these cycles, though the Maya didn't know which one it would be.
Now, Maya recorded their dates by the number of days since the beginning of the last cycle. That's another reason the number that is today's date is so long-- it takes a lot longer to say what day it is if you're counting DAYS from 0 AD up to March 11, 2011. This system is called the Long Count. Long Count dates were used primarily during the Maya Classic period (and before, but not as extensively). However, in the Postclassic Period, the Maya got lazy and started using what we call the Short Count. Instead of starting at the very beginning, they started at the beginning of a 7,200-day cycle, called a Katun (read like "cartoon" without the R...and I swear every time my prof says "katun," I think of Daffy Duck, really). When the Spanish arrived in the Yucatan in the 16th century, the Maya were still using the Short Count.
Since the Maya switched the way they recorded dates, we have a hard time lining up their calendar with the Gregorian one that we use. Also, there is apparently some disagreement over whether one part of the Long Count calendar ends after 13 units or 19 units.
Now, as you all know, people are freaking out about December 21, 2012. I'm pretty sure you've been told that "the Maya predicted the end of the world," or "the Maya calendar ends, at that means the end of the world," or some other such nonsense. Here's the deal:
-IF the cycle is only 13 units instead of 19, then the date on Dec 21, 2012 will be the date that marks the end of that particular CYCLE.
-IF the cycle is 19 units, we have a good 4,000 years to go before the end of the cycle.
Aside from the fact that Maya scholars (who know WAY more about reading the Maya calendar than you and I, I promise) cannot figure out for sure whether the end of the cycle is next year or four millenia from now, and aside from the fact that I'm pretty sure YOU are not Maya, or even subscribe to the Maya religious beliefs, and aside from the fact that Y2K came and went without a hitch, I really think that you (meaning the world, not you in particular) really need to calm down.
Although maybe it would be better if the world ended before I had to translate this huge load of number and date glyphs...
That's all. Phew!
P.S. I just read through this and it's sort of confusing/possibly contradictory. Sorry, it's because I'm still trying to understand it myself. But you get the point.
I'm pretty excited for some things coming up (relatively) soon. Time to share:
1. Trevor Hall at Velour. Yeah, he's kind of a hippy, but I don't care. His music is sort of Jack Johnson-y, but his voice is a mix between Bon Iver and Matisyahu, which is sort of awesome. I can't stop listening to his music since my roommate introduced me to it a few weeks ago. And the show is in Provo, and only costs $8, so I'll be there.
2. Going home! As soon as I finish my last final on April 20th, I'm OUT of town and driving home for four or five days to see my beautiful home in Fallbrook, CA for what may be the last time. I hope not, but such is life.
3. Field School I know last year sometime I said I was really nervous about Field School or something, but since the start of the semester when I started taking the Field School Prep class, I've been totally stoked for the 6 weeks of hard labor that I pay to do. This week in class we practiced survey-mapping by going out and mapping/measuring the sidewalks, trees, planters, etc and drawing the stares of passers-by. Whatever, they were just jealous of my giant meter tape. Starting April 26th, I'll be here:
4. SUMMER. Need I say more? I'm so sick of this weather. And the lack of greenery. And the limitation on activities. Etc.
5. Visiting D.C. This summer Adrien has an internship at the Smithsonian, and she wants me to come see her for a couple of days. I'm totally down for that! Especially since there's talk of maybe going up to New York for a day to see a Broadway show that may or may not feature Daniel Radcliffe...woohoo! Of course, this is all dependent on me making enough bones to pay for the trip, but I'm confident.
6. Graduation? I put a question mark after this because I'm banking on quite a lot in order to be able to graduate this December. But hey, I'm keeping my fingers crossed!
By the way, if anyone knows of any dive shops in Utah/Salt Lake counties that certify through SSI (not PADI), let me know. I really want to do Dive Instructor Training so I can teach and hopefully have options for jobs after I graduate. Eep! I'm so excited :)
I just wanted to throw this out there. I know you already hear enough about Keane from me as it is :)
A bit ago, Tom Chaplin performed the song "It's a Hard Life" with Queen. I think it's great when people collaborate. But that's not what I like about this (because, to me, the song is just o.k.). It was Tom's dream (one of them, I'm sure) to sing this song on stage with Queen, and he finally got to! I think it's great when people work to the point where they can fulfill even their craziest dreams. You can probably get away with just watching the first two minutes.
Side note: apparently a lot of people commented on this about how loud his voice was. When Tom Chaplin originally joined Keane, his friend/the drummer Richard Hughes objected, later saying "The idea of giving someone who's already the loudest person you know a microphone was not something that I was particularly keen on." I think that's funny.
BYU: The World is Our Campus-- or The Campus is Our World?
So I actually wrote this about a year ago, but I was hesitant in posting it because I wanted to wait until I had all my bases covered, and I thought about getting photos for each of the categories, but for some (read: all) of them it would be hard to get pictures without creeping around stalker-like to get photographs of these people.
When I transferred to BYU last winter, I noticed there were several stereotypes of people on campus, so I put them into these categories I created. I realize they're not perfect, but read and enjoy-- and if you're offended, it's probably because you are one of these people.
The White Rabbit
He's late! He's late! This is the guy who looks like his world may actually end if he doesn't run as fast as he can to wherever he's going.
The Good Parent
Easily spotted as he or she is always found with a baby-- look for a stroller or carseat/carrier. Unfortunate if you have one as a classmate. You may find a toddler under your desk, or hear crying/nursing/giggling throughout the lecture.
The Clown Studies Major
He thinks that a unicycle is the most practical mode of transportation. In the winter when it's too icy, you can find him juggling with his fellow clowns in the Wilk atrium.
The Premie
Frequently seen toting his scriptures, this guy most likely hasn't been on a mission yet (or has returned within the month). White basketball shoes, too-short Target jeans, solid polo or button-up plaid shirt. Common on campus.
The Grinner
For some reason there is always a smile on this guy's face. And it's not a good thing-- he's far too happy and he stares off somewhere to the side.
The Serious Student
Watch out, because this guy sure isn't. His nose is buried in his homework, a study guide, a textbook as he walks. He WILL run into you if possible.
The Skier
Wears a big, puffy jacket too impractical for school, really. All fifteen lift tags are still attached to the zipper.
The American Idol Winner
If you didn't know the lyrics to Kansas' "Carry on Wayward Son," you do now. With earbuds firmly in place, this guy can be found singing his heart out (or dancing) to whatever he hears as he walks along.
The RM
Has been on a mission-- and PROUD OF IT! Often found wearing the jersey of the favorite futbol/hockey/etc team of the area they served in and/or chatting in Mandarin/Portuguese/Czech to other RMs or international students.
The Die-Hard Fan
If the bookstore sells it in the school spirit section, he owns it. "Y" pants, sweatshirt, beanie, backpack, etc. Probably camps out in preparation for Home Games. If you still can't pick him out-- cut him, he bleeds blue.
The Future CEO
Seats him (or her) self down comfortable at a table in the Cougareat with his laptop and his copy of the Wall Street Journal. Always wears a suit.
The Surveyor (applicable to Cougareat)
Stands silently in the middle of all the crowded tables during the lunch rush with his tray full of food, turning slowly and looking for an empty table-- not likely to appear at this time of day. Eventually he turns from Surveyor to Hoverer-- hovering next to a table set for six where the current occupants are putting on coats and gathering trash.
The Speedster
You only see him for a split second as he nearly runs you down on his bike at fifty miles an hour in the middle of a heavily-pedestrianed area.
The Doting Couple
Feel the need to hold hands while they eat, lock lips while standing in line, etc, as though their partner will float away if constant contact is not maintained. Will probably be engaged within six weeks if they aren't already.
The Invalid
They broke their foot/ankle/leg and now they have no choice but to happily roll themselves along on one of those nifty scooter things that are so trendy they're probably faking the injury.
The Entrepreneur
Stops you as you walk to/from class to ask how much you might pay for a bag of nuts. He may alternately try to sign you up for a subscription to the New York Times-- a terrific investment!
The Gold Potato (the first sighted GP was carrying a gold-foiled baked potato)
"Heeeeeeey!!! I haven't seen you in forever!!!" Runs and hugs people. Leans interestedly on the ice cream counter. Wears colorful/distasteful/strange shoes or other items of clothing, especially "interesting" backpacks. Probably knows half the people at BYU. Most people at BYU are, or are capable of being at times, GPs.
The other day a friend of mine mentioned that "Always on My Mind" was originally sung by Elvis, which surprised me a little only because I'd only ever heard it by the Pet Shop Boys. But I'm glad to be educated. Apparently Willie Nelson also did a version. I like to compare versions.
The Elvis version:
The Willie Nelson version:
The Pet Shop Boys version:
And just for kicks, Tom Chaplin's (from Keane) impression of the Pet Shop Boys' version (fast forward to 6:03, but start at 5:15 to get the context...or maybe watch the whole thing for even more context)
All in all, I think I like the Pet Shop Boys version best, but Elvis' has a quality that I love and that isn't really captured in the PSB version. Willie Nelson, meh. And Tom Chaplin is just silly.
Lately, with the half-melted snow lingering in the mountains and movies like True Grit and Ondine on my list of recently-watched, I've been dreaming about getting out of the "city" and into quieter places. I drove out to the lake a couple of days ago and spent a while feeding, petting, and nuzzling the horses down there, and it was quiet and cold and wonderful. It goes along with the post I made over on blog #3 today. In fact, I think I'll repost it here, just 'cos. And because I don't have the wherewithal to write a new post for you. Sorry!
About a month ago I purchased these boots from Walmart for about $20:
I love them. I wear them all the time (literally). The only thing wrong with them is that I had to buy them a size down because they were all out of 7s. Since rubber boots usually run a little big (because they don’t stretch), I thought it’d be okay, but they’ve been pretty tight at times lately, making my poor toes uncomfortable :(
In any case, the reason I bought them is not because they’re practical, nope, that had almost nothing to do with it. My excuse was that I could wear them with my Harry Potter premiere outfit in November (surprise! I love Harry Potter), but that’s not the real reason. For me, these boots embody a world of dream and childlike attitude. That sounds totally ridiculous, but it’s true.
One of my favorite memories from my childhood is of walking alone through the rain and mud on our then-unpaved road to meet my sisters at their piano lessons in my yellow plastic raincoat and black galoshes. I think I was about five years old. I remember stomping in the mud puddles and thoroughly enjoying the rain, since we hardly got any in Southern California.
I also always had a dream of being a veterinarian when I grew up. When I was in junior high, I first read the books by James Herriot.
James in his Wellington boots...and with a lamb
I loved reading about how he would pull on his Wellies and go to work with the animals. I love James Herriot, I even made it a point to make sure we went to Thirsk (aka Darrowby) on our trip to England this year.
Later, in High School, I was in Ag, or FFA, or whatever you want to call it. Though my animal projects never worked out (just fyi, rabbits need air conditioning or they will die– not my fault though), I had friends who raised steer, goats, and pigs, and they all had rubber boots. I spent plenty of time in the barn and stables–but without the boots– though the whole time I was in there cleaning and caring for the animals I sure wished I had a pair.
In any case, galoshes mean more to me than just keeping my feet dry, they contain all the memories I love and dreams I haven’t fulfilled. Call me crazy, but there it is. So now I’m wondering, is there anything you’ve purchased for reasons you might’ve been a little embarrassed by (like me…don’t tell!) or for reasons with “deeper meaning” if you will? I hope I’m making sense… Anyway, share in the comments!
This morning for some reason I decided to look up my family's tartan/plaid/whatever they call it. I'm only a little bit Scottish, on my mom's dad's side, but it's in there. Anyway, so the Scottish last name I come from is "Sproul" (spelling?), which came from "Spruel," which is a subset or whatever of the MacFarlane Clan. So I looked up the MacFarlanes, and this is what I learned about them:
"The progenitor of the Macfarlanes is generally considered to be Alwyn, one of the Celtic Earls of Lennox. The fortunes of the family became established when his son, Gilchrist, was awarded with the lands at Arrochar towards the end of the 12th century. Gilchrist's grandson, Malduin, is remembered for aiding Robert the Bruce when his power was failing and his enemies were strong. The Macfarlanes remained loyal to Robert the Bruce and fought for him at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. When the last Celtic Earl of Lennox, Duncan, was executed by James I, the succession was left open. Although the Macfarlanes could have claimed the earldom they were prevented from doing so and the earldom was passed to John Stewart, Lord Darnley. This move was not taken kindly to by the Macfarlanes and they chose to oppose the Stewarts. This was, however, not the most strategic of moves as the Macfarlanes quickly realised the force of the Stewarts was too great for them. To rectify the rift between them the 10th chief married the daughter of Lord Darnley to create a new friendship. The Macfarlanes were amongst those who dealt with the loses at Flodden as well as the Battle of Pinkie in 1547 where the 13th chief and his son died. Upon the death of Mary, Queen of Scots' husband, Lord Darnley, the Macfarlanes immediately chose to fight against Mary and were noted for their valour at the Battle of Langside where she finally surrendered. The Macfarlanes stood with the Stewarts until the reign of James VII when they switched their loyalty to Queen Mary and William of Orange. They chose not to come out for the Jacobite risings. In 1767 the direct line failed and the lands were sold to pay debts; consequently the Macfarlanes are not on the Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs."
The tartan was a little harder to find, but here it is (there are a few of them, but this one is my favorite):
There's also apparently a clan tattoo, but I feel like it's more of a modern thing, and anyway, it's more of a crest anyway (the one on the right is the "tattoo"):
Anyway, if you're related to me, that might've been interesting to you. If you're not, and you're Scottish too, tell me what your clan is. If you're not Scottish...that's okay too.
School is making me crazy right now, which is why I haven't posted in a while. There's so much to do and so little time, and it's only looking at things like these two that keep me sane throughout it all:
Now it seems like only laugh at animals' expense. Maybe that's true...
In similar news, the Harry Potter premiere was a-mazing. Adrien and I were in line for 8 hours, and the rest of the group trickled in later. We dressed as wizards trying to be discreet and dressing as muggles, and only one person got it! But it was great fun, and the movie was wonderful. Also, we played catch phrase to pass the time, and it must have known where we were...
I've talked before a couple of times about censorship in art, and what could be considered art (I'm too lazy to go and find the links for those posts, but they're around somewhere). Today I was looking at the blog of one of my favorite photographers, Jonathan Canlas, and he posted a series of photographs (which you can find here) that he took of a family in the hospital for the birth of their child. Jonathan has posted several shoots of hospital births, etc, but I noticed this one was different, and when I got to the text at the bottom of the post I realized why. The baby was born with a number of severe complications, and is not expected to live much longer. Jonathan wrote that the mother called him in to take some photographs when they realized their baby was ailing, and he did come, and took some beautiful photos. None of them really show the baby, more the people present, and from angles that communicate emotion of the various subjects. But what was shocking to me was first of all that the pictures were so sad, and that a professional photographer had been called in to record the moment.
I know that art is a very delicate subject at times, but I wonder where on the line between "personal" and "public art" this situation falls. I know that photographs (and art in general) is often created to provoke uncomfortable emotion, and that we may not always be comfortable with it. For example, a friend of mine is opening a display of her photography in the HFAC on campus in a couple of weeks, and the topic of her collection is the unrealistic image of women that has been created by our culture, and how it affects women in real life. She told me about an image of a girl draped over a toilet wearing almost nothing, her bones jutting out from her skin; and how she's certain this image will be censored the moment she hangs it in the gallery. People are simply not comfortable viewing things that provoke unhappy feelings in themselves. And yet, they miss the point. If we push these things away, we lose sight of what life is really like.
Maybe that was the point of Jonathan Canlas' posting of the photos I think perhaps should have been kept private. At the end of the post he said "Now all of you, close this browser and go spend some time with your family/loved ones. Life is so delicate." These images-- or other works of art in various forms, such as the poem "Dulce et Decorum Est" by Wilfred Owen-- are meant to cause emotions in us that stimulate a change in our lives, or help us to see the reality of life. They hold a power that other things do not.
A couple of days ago I was looking at careers in art crime, and I was checking out this website to look at their brief art crime masters program (in Italy!), and I saw this statue:
It's totally freaky. And sculpted in the 15th century. I'm intrigued.
I know I've rather neglected the blog lately when it comes to "real" posts, but I promise I have a couple up my sleeve and coming soon.
This song has been haunting me since I first heard it in the Jeep commercial, and I every time I heard it it made me want to buy a Jeep, which is not a terrible prospect. But after hearing it used in the preview for True Grit, it just makes me want to ride horses in the winter desert of northeast Arizona.
Anyway, it being Johnny Cash just makes it a hundred times better:
I thought it was only fair that I also list my favorite scary books or stories for the Halloween season, so here they are (only five, I promise):
The Curse of the Blue Figurine by John Bellairs. Probably my favorite of the Johnny Dixon books by John Bellairs, though I really love pretty much all of them. Admittedly I haven't read them since I was younger, but they're still awesome. I want to be Johnny Dixon.
The Mummy, the Will, and the Crypt by John Bellairs. I remember reading this late at night and being afraid to stick out my arm to turn off the light when I was done because I was so freaked out. So good.
The Doubtful Guest by Edward Gorey. Not only did Edward Gorey illustrate (like he did the John Bellairs books), but he also wrote some stuff. When I read this in fifth grade, it frightened me to tears. It's not really that scary, but it's eerie, and makes you think.
Sleeping Murder by Agatha Christie. One of the creepier mystery novels I've ever read, with lines that give me chills just thinking about them, like "Cover her face, mine eyes dazzle, she is dead," and something about monkey hands. My mom says she read it as a teenager when she was babysitting alone and was totally freaked out. I agree, it's pretty suspenseful at times. And of course, there's an old house involved.
Wildfire at Midnight by Mary Stewart. I love Mary Stewart, she's an amazing mystery writer. This is probably one of her creepier ones. It's set on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, where a murderer is loose and secrets abound.
I'm also inclined to mention The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, but I think the movie is a little scarier. I've also heard that Dracula by Bram Stoker is one of the scariest books ever written, but I've never read it, so I can't recommend it. Also, The Yellow Wallpaper is a creepy short story, but mostly it's weird, so that's sort of a half-recommendation. In addition to those, I feel like I should mention Sherlock Holmes, but those stories aren't particularly scary, just mysterious and captivating. But if I were to pick a couple that were close to scary, I'd say "The Speckled Band," "The Hound of the Baskervilles," and maybe "The Five Orange Pips." And I forgot about Edgar Allen Poe. I'd say of his, probably "The Tell-tale Heart" and "The Cask of Amontillado" are good ones.
What are your favorite scary/suspenseful books or stories good for getting freaked out?
