Aaaaaaaaaaand Another [Book Review]!!

Gasp. I'm back. Yes, fo' realz.
In a new post and everything. I thought it would be more fun that way.

I read another book almost in entirety on Wednesday night before I moved. I pulled it out of my box of things for packing for college and made the mistake of opening it. I then power read all but the last chapter and a half that night. Which, ftr, pissed off my mama. hahaha. Oh well. I got packed in plenty of time.

By the way, there are def spoilers involved here. Just thought I'd warn you ahead of time.

Anyway. So I power-read a book. Called Jerk, California by Jonatahn Friesen.

Jerk, California is about a boy in Minnesota with Tourrette's syndrome. And of course his stepdad loved him and all was great until he developed his "disease" and then Bill realized that Sam won't be able to take over the concrete business. And suddenly Sam becomes a monster.

Anyway, there's a lot of self-loathing in this book. I'm telling you, a lot. But there's a lot of other here, as well. Sam, whose given name is actually Jack [somethingorother but super Irish] ends up working for a guy the townspeople refer to as The Coot. Some affectionately, others not so much. You know how it goes in small towns. But he's actually a pretty cool guy. And there's, of course, a girl involved.
So after not very long at all, George (the Coot) dies of a heart attack right in front of Jack. And then Jack inherits ALL of George's stuff. Land, house, everything.
George sends Jack on a trip across the country to a location in California called Jerk with several stops along the way and directions to stay a couple of days in each place. Jack's dad built or refurbished windmills. That was kind of his thing.

I don't know. I really liked this book when I read it at the time, but like, thinking back on it, I'm kind of over it. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's really interesting, largely because of Jack's struggle with identity and self-confidence and self-loathing and this girl who is totally... bipolar. Not really, just pregnant (early in). Long story. Anyway. It WAS interesting. But... meh. I don't know. Looking back I just don't.... like... feel all that strongly about it now.  I kind of did at the time. If you read the last blog post I did about Will Grayson, Will Grayson, before I get into the novel I have this HUGE spiel about little things that change your life and whatever, and this one kind of did that at the time. But... I dunno. Maybe now that I'm here it's not such a big deal? I don't know how to explain it.
It's possible that this heat is just skewing my care-meter. In fact highly likely. It's been super hot lately and my dorm doesn't have air conditioning and my allergies are in "murderous bitch" mode so I'm super short tempered and my face hurts and I've just been in a bad mood. Relatively. I dunno.
Anyway, it's a good book, save the ending. The ending kinda... well, it kinda sucked. It doesn't really end! It just sorta stops! And not like an on-purpose thing, either. At least not as far as I can tell. Though I could definitely be wrong. I dunno.

It's not a long read, or a difficult read. I almost cried a few times. I laughed quite a bit. I hated people frequently. It's a moving book, at least. Maybe I was just particularly movable at the time. No idea. But I liked it.  I give it probs 3.5 stars? Maybe? I dunno. 3 just doesn't seem right but 4 almost seems too much. So. There you are.

Two blog posts in a day! Can you believe it? After a month hiatus! Sorry. It'll probs be awhile again. Oops.

Book Review

It has officially been one month exactly since I last posted on this blog. My sincere apologies. But it's been awhile since I posted in either other now as well. So. Whatever. You know how I work.

Anyway. I literally just finished reading a book like, 3.47 minutes ago.

How many seconds is .47ths of a minute? I'm not going to do the math.

Anyway.

The one thought I need to say right now before I lose it is this:

People seem to have this notion in their heads that anything life-changing has to be something monumental, and that seriously isn't the case. The things that change our lives and/or who we are as individuals, the way that we see/view life. Even the way that we view ourselves. View, see, feel about, believe in--all relevant and included in this discussion.  But the thing is that the things that are life-altering don't HAVE to be big. They don't HAVE to be monumental. They don't have to be major events in our lives. Sometimes it's the smallest of things that have the biggest impact. When you read a book that addresses life in a way that you haven't ever thought about. Or maybe that you have thought about but never articulated in the manner presented to you.  When you hear a song that moves you and the lights shine brighter, the air tastes better, people smile more beautifully. The world views differently because you are different because of something so radically simple--or complex, but small nonetheless has triggered a reaction in your brain that, regardless of its manner of existence.

And so you sit there going "Oh my gosh," but you don't really know how to articulate what you're going through because nobody else has experienced the thing that you just experienced, and you can't just look at your roommate and say "I just experienced a life-changing event" because she was sitting here 4 feet away from you for the last 20 minutes and nothing actually happened. And people just don't get it, least of all when you can't explain it.

Andbutso I think we've established that I've HAD one of these moments just now upon the completion of this book. I have these moments quite frequently, actually.  You'd think that after awhile it gets old, that things stop amazing or changing me. But that's the beauty of my outlook: these things never get old. I like that I never stop changing. I like that I still allow myself to be so thoroughly moved by things so small, seemingly inconsequential.

Will Grayson, Will Grayson: John Green & David Levithan

Will Grayson 1 has a gay best friend who is a mountain of a teenager and goes by the name Tiny Cooper.  They've been best friends since third grade and since before being gay really had anything to do with liking boys.

Will Grayson 2 is a self-deprecating teenage boy with friends he doesn't really consider friends because he kind of hates himself and his life and everything that is. Except for Isaac, a boy he met online and has been talking to for a year.

Will Grayson 1 is straight but doesn't date because he prefers to avoid all the drama. Will Grayson 2 is gay but totally in the closet. Not because he is ashamed of this but because he (rightly) doesn't think it's anybody else's goddamned business.

As the story progresses we learn more and more about each of these characters and more characters come into the mix. Tiny Cooper's main focus is on a musical that he wrote called Tiny Dancer, which is, go figure, about him. He is also a member of the school's "Gay Straight Alliance" and wants Tiny Dancer to receive funding from the student council in order to become a reality.

There's also a cute girl named Jane involved here? And there's a lot of drama with her and Will Grayson 1 kind of sort of but not really liking each other? It's complicated.

There is a lot of other plot information here that's relatively relevant but which I shan't be discussing simply because A) I don't feel like it and B) ...er... never mind.

Anyway.  So Will Grayson 2 is going to meet up with Isaac in Chicago Friday night, only he gets to the place he's supposed to go to and it's a porn shop called Frenchy's. This is where he meets Will Grayson 1, who is also underage and attempting to buy a porn magazine as a memento for his friends who actually left him to go to a Maybe Dead Cats concert in a bar--WG1's fake ID was a total fail, which actually made for an amusing moment there in aforementioned porn shop--and one thing leads to another and Will Grayson 1 meets Will Grayson 2.

So then there's a bunch of stuff and then Will Grayson 2 ends up with Tiny Cooper and then they actually sorta make out and stuff.

So from here we have a number of things progressing. For example, Will Grayson 1 is replaced in Tiny Cooper's life by Will Grayson 2, which kind of pisses off and hurts the feelings of WG1. Only all of this is complicated and there's a bunch of stuff with Jane, who sort of gets back with her ex-boyfriend only then she dumps him because she can't get WG1 out of her head and so then they kind of get together and that's good.

And like, Tiny and WG2 go out sort of for awhile, but then Will kind of hates on stuff too much and pisses of Tiny and they kind of break up. And they both feel totally like shit about it.

There are a lot of things about this book that I really liked. The prose exhibited by both authors, for example. The plot points. Also a lot of the subtext, the concepts that they put forth. Like, for example, sometimes people fall in love with an aspect of who you are, not necessarily you yourself. Like, sometimes, we don't keep quiet about things because we're ashamed of them or because we are afraid of being judged, but because it's nobody else's goddamned business, and that's okay. Also, that no relationship is perfect, and that one factoid, in itself, makes every relationship perfect.
Actually, I don't think that last one was really in the book... whatever. Take it how you will.
I loved it. A lot.  I even gave it 5 stars on GoodReads. (=  So there ya go.

How About an Update?

So it's been awhile now. I know. I'm sorry.  I get busy doing stuff and just generally being busy and then I just... don't come back.
I do have a bunch of stuff I need to talk about though. Like a handful of CDs and a book or two and stuff.

If you're unaware, I've started two more blogs, these more personal than this.  The first is Personal Notes from Emily and the second is Body Modification Project.  The first is supposed to be at least mostly about my life and memories and stuff. I basically started it so that I could spew from time to time about the shit that's bugging me. Memories. Boys. lol.  I'll try to avoid boys.  For eeeerrrehbodeh's sake.
Especially theirs.
Anyway.
The second blog is basically just about my decision to lose weight and get in shape and such.  If you wanted to see what I look like without a shirt on, there ya go.  I'ma warn you straight off that it's not pretty. Not yet, anyway.  That's the goal. Pretty. (=

I downloaded a couple new games for my Galaxy Player and seriously they're the cutest things ever.  The one is called Cut the Rope and you have this little green dude that you feed with candy and he's just way too cute for words. hahaha  The second is called Where's My Water and features a super sweet little alligator guy who just wants to take a bath. =3  I enjoy them. They make me happy.  And they're keeping me amused for more time than I care to admit... lol.

I just bought The Long Hard Road Out of Hell, the biography of Marilyn Manson.  I haven't managed to start reading it yet--pretty positive it's still in my car, actually--but I'm really excited for it.  I'll probably read it in public places just to see what people say.
The man really is brilliant.  He's just... kind of a freak show.  The thing is that he has a particular message he's trying to convey and the image he uses to project it appeals to the audience to whom he is most interested in addressing.  So I'm looking forward to it.

I also just located two books that I remember buying (now that I've found them) but had totally forgotten I owned.  I have that much shit, yes.  Working on it.  hahahaha.  The important thing is that I've found them. And will now (at some point or another) get around to reading them. #facepalm

And... CDs... I have at least 4.  Skip the Foreplay, Walk the Moon, Marilyn Manson, Gotye... I feel like there's probs another/more... Oh well. Not today.

For now it is NAP TIME!!
And that's exciting.
Ta ta.
--Emily Renae

Meeeeeeeeediiiaaaaaaaaaaa

So here's the deal, guys.
I started writing this post a few weeks ago about a series of books I've been reading, but it got so damn long that it just started to look stupid/ridiculous. And I got sick of it. Not to mention the fact that it's been so bloody long since I read the first ones that I needed hardcore refreshers and wikipedia can only do so much for you. You know what I mean?  Also, each novel has its own plot that is, in large part anyway, separate from the overlying plot of the entire series, but not in entirety. But to explain only what appears to be the main, overlying plot of the entire series would make it look like it was a really dirty set of romance novels.  Which, don't get me wrong, they kind of are. But there's so much more to them than that.  The protagonist is seriously antagonistic, but there are SO MANY antagonists throughout the course of this series that it's impossible to list each one. Besides the fact that at LEAST as many conflicts are internal as external. And the internal conflicts aren't all on the protagonist!
It's complicated. Seriously.
In other words, to explain the series fully, adequately and precisely is a huge undertaking. And... not one I care enough about to actually do. So! I skipped. Sorry.

Besides that, though, I have a book that I would like to talk about, and I just bought 3 more CDs. (= YAY!
I have so damn many CDs these days it's absurd. ALSO - irritating - like, 5 or 6 of my CDs got left in my ex-boyfriend's car before we broke up. In JANUARY. Aaaaaaand... there's not really any hope of getting them back anymore. If he even still HAS them. =/  Soooo I guess I'm just out.
Which pisses me off. >|

Anyway. Shall we get on with it? I suppose we ought.

I'll start with a book.

A Madness of Angels: Kate Griffin

Author bio: "Kate Griffin is the name under which Carnegie Medal-nominated author, Catherine Webb, writes fantasy novels for adults.

An acclaimed author of young adult books under her own name, Catherine’s amazing debut, Mirror Dreams, was written when she was only 14 years old, and garnered comparisons with Terry Pratchett and Philip Pullman.

She read History at the London School of Economics, and studied at RADA."

For the record, I'll be referring to her by her pseudonym, in case there are questions. Pseudonyms exist for a reason, and to neglect them just seems rude. (I don't think I'll ever use one, should I actually become published. Anyway.)

Griffin has a method of description unlike anything I have ever seen. And that's saying something if you have any idea how many books I've read in my life. But I love this novel because of how real everything is. It's Urban Fantasy, and it's kind of weird, admittedly--even Griffin admits it--but it's so... interesting. The more of it I read the more into it I really get, and it's so cool. It's cool.

OH! The other super spectacular, totally awesome thing about Kate Griffin (or at least this book series) is that she doesn't write in chapters! None whatsoever!  I mean, the book is split into Prelude and Parts 1, 2 & 3, each with their own title following, but still. There are, of course, breaks in the text. But she treats it pretty much the same way that I do. Break where you need to, but just write. And I like that because it gives me hope that I don't have to write in chapters either. =P

As far as a plot goes, I guess that uh... I'm still working on that.  I'm a ways into Part One now, and it just keeps getting more and more interesting. Here's what I know:

• Matthew Swift disappeared 2 years ago, but left enough blood at the scene that everyone decided that no one could lose that much blood and survive and so therefore he must have died.
• Two years later, Matthew Swift was resurrected, but certain things aren't quite right. For example, his eyes are now a crazy shade of intense blue, but they used to be brown.
• He refers to himself as "We." "Us." etc. And due to a few other things that have appeared here and there, I know that there is clearly somebody - something - else in his head with him. I just don't know what yet.
• Matthew's sole purpose here is revenge. Revenge against whomever killed him and whomever is responsible for his resurrection.
• He's one helluva powerful sorcerer.
• He's being hunted by a "shadow" he calls Hunger, who, at last run-in, was wearing the trench coat that he'd died/disappeared in two years ago. It's still stained with his blood.

Apparently angels are supposed to come into this somewhere, judging by what I started to read in the interview in the "Extras" segment in the back of the book. I'm just not that far yet. But I'm interested, and will likely keep you posted.

Sounds good.

I've got people at my house, though, so I'm going to cancel the music talk for today. I'll come back to that later. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Whatever.  I'll get back to it. (=

Happy weekend! (=

With love,

--Emily Renae

The Typesetter's Rebuttal

I don't know that any of you are aware of this notion, but I work for the Mountrail County Promoter, my local home newspaper. It comes out once a week on Wednesdays, and includes almost as much nonsense as it does real news. (In small towns, you have to cater to the people that want to relay the mundane nothingness of what goes on ALL DAY LONG at the Bethel Home or who visited whom on what day and yada yada yada. It gets ridiculous, but it's the reason that some people subscribe to the paper, so whatever. You cope with it.) Anyway, one of the sections that I type up every week is the "news" from the nearby town of Belden, written by a lady who, well... uh... I'll be nice; never mind. But she has this habit of going on these rants that are totally uncalled for and absurd. And last week (this week) I just... I had to respond, so I did.

Today on my lunch break, I typed up this letter to the editor - who happens to be my boss, by the way - and when she came back I gave it to her. She told me that it was very well written and that we would definitely run it, so this is going to be in next week's paper.

I don't profess to be the perfect Christian. I never have been and I very much doubt I ever will be. But that's okay. I don't have to be.
I also don't claim to have a "professional" opinion. I am 19 years old, okay? I have no opinions that border upon any edge of professional. So you can take this as you see it, but this is the condensed gist of where I'm at, and I won't back down from it.
So, without further ado. (Are you even still reading this nonsense?)


Dear Editor,
I have a deeply burning desire in my heart to make a rebuttal to a section of the Belden News published in last week’s edition of the Promoter. It began “Are We Faithful. No, I can’t say the young people are” and I really want to ask: How far removed from the youth of society do you really have to be to believe that?
With all due respect to Ms. Hoseth, I have to disagree. Generalizing the entire population of youth in this country, or even this state, based on the individuals in one very small area is entirely unfair to us all. Of the nearly 700 Facebook friends I possess, I cannot tell you the portion of those that post Bible verses, prayers, pleas and praises to God on a very regular basis. I cannot tell you how frequently faith and religion appear in our daily lives and, though some of us remain silent or turn away, it touches us all.
I will admit that, in part, she is right. We, the youth of America, do not believe in God the same way that many of the members of the older generations of our country believe. We do not treat our faith and our religion in the same way that Ms. Hoseth’s generation did, and does. There are many of us who have indeed walked away from our churches and chosen to be agnostic or atheist, though, personally I believe that none of us have enough life experience yet to truly make this decision.
Yes, many of us have walked away. Many of us do not eat meals in family settings, let alone pray over them. I will admit that I’m not even fully familiar with the concept of Devotions, and for that perhaps I am at fault. There are many among us who do not go to church – some who have not stepped foot in one since early childhood, even. There, Ms. Hoseth is indeed correct.
However, I must implore you to understand that the youth of this country live in a completely different era than our predecessors did, that the issues, the problems, the complications and the drama that we face is entirely different from that of the older generations that watch us, often with disdain. Perhaps we do have it easy in comparison. Perhaps we don’t know what we have, and yes, perhaps it should all be stripped away from us so that we might appreciate it better. But wasn’t the point of going through all of the things that this country went through in the past several decades making life better for the future generations, as in mine, or the one to follow? Was the point not to save us the aches and pains, the blood, sweat and tears shed by those before us? If that was not the point, then what was it all for?
I don’t mean to sound like a whiney twerp upset that someone poked me and my peers; that’s not what this is about. What I mean to say is that, though young people have a tendency to walk away from faith and religion for awhile, at least 90% of us come back. The youth of this country are clinging to our faith, our religions, because it’s the only certain thing that we have right now in this country of uncertainties. We know what we’re inheriting – including exploding national debt, social problems, political corruptions galore, not to mention growing global fireworks (and not the fun kind) – and we don’t know what we’re going to do with it all. We don’t know if we’re going to have some kind of safety net like Social Security checks when we grow old. We don’t have anything guaranteed to us anymore; all we have guaranteed to us is the presence of God and Jesus Christ as our savior in our lives. Faith, religion, is meant to save us, to surround us and to guide us; it isn’t supposed to control us like some kind of invisible puppet master that we just allow to move our hands and feet and open our mouths for words to spew out. Faith and religion are an interactive part of our lives. God’s plan for us all requires our interaction, our participation, or there is nothing for us.
Faith, religion, heaven and hell: it’s all a choice. You choose to believe; you choose to be guided; you choose to be loved and protected. I, for one, am terrified of losing that guidance, love and protection. I, for one, know hundreds of people – younger, older, my age, but all peers in this belief in Jesus Christ as savior, or even just in God our Father – who have come to the same conclusion that I have:
Even when we feel that we have absolutely nothing in life, we still have God. We still have a promise of love, protection, forgiveness and eternal life in a faith that will fill in the holes in our life and make us whole.
Ms. Hoseth, I do not know what you see on a weekly, or daily basis in your church and community, but I know what I see and experience, and it is entirely different from what you explained. So, with all due respect, I would like to amend the answer to your “Are we faithful?” question: No, some of us are not, but those who are not do not overpower those of us who are. And it is those of us who are who will lead this country out of the darkness and into some kind of future that we can all succeed in.
Thank you,
--Emily Mell

Uhhh... hi. =)

Okay, okay, so it's been... like... 3 months or something since I posted my last little blurb here.  I'm sorry.  My bad.  However! I do have a [really lame] excuse: I was broke.
WHAT THAT MEANS, MY FRIENDS is that I didn't have any  money to buy any books (as if I needed to buy more of them) nor CDs (as if I needed more of those either).  And I didn't really give myself any time to read or explore new music either.  Soooo I really didn't have a damn thing to talk about!
So I didn't...

But here I am. We're back.  And I'm intending to actually post more regularly these days.  With any luck those intentions shall come to fruition! hahaha.  But you know me.  No promises.

Spring semester sucked, y'all. I'm just gonna say that.   I cycled back through a depression in which I really just didn't give a shit about anything, especially not if it was academic.  Soooooo consequently my grades for this term kiiiiiiinda bite.  Oops.  I mean, not all of them.  But... a couple of them... Oops.
Whatever, though.  I really just don't care anymore.  I mean. I do. But... meh.  My parents are really unhappy about that notion since I'm transferring to UND in August and it's a lot more expensive than MSU aaaaaaaaaand I'm giving up a lot of scholarship money to go therrrrre and... blah blah blah. Etc.  So. There's that tidbit of information you didn't need about my life!

Just for the record, I have 2 posts pending in my brain at this very moment in time.  (That's actually why I'm visiting now at all, honestly. Sorry.)  Both in regard to literature.  Or... well... one is.  I'm not sure how to classify the other; I just got the concept from a book.  Whatever.

So that's what I've got for you today.  I'm sure you will hear from me again shortly.  Because I don't have a job for the summer yet so I'm not doing jack. (=
I'll get there.

Ta ta!
--Emily Renae
~xoxo

Back-Pocket Dream

I've been watching the blind auditions for this year's The Voice, and... I really need to stop doing this to myself. I love music.  I've always loved music.  I love shows about music.  Honestly, I do.
But the thing about being so into music the way that I am--and if you look through my blog you can get a glimpse into this well of passion that burns within me--is that I have this heartfelt desire, a desire that I have always harbored, to be the alto that hits the industry.  Most of the female vocalists in the industry are sopranos.  They sing in these high registers, and everybody loves it.  It's like if you're a girl, you're just supposed to sing high.
But then there are girls like me, who love to sing, love to perform and do something that affects people, who really... can't sing that high.  I am an alto.  I sing music sung by men, because it's in my vocal range.  85% of the time, I don't sing it up the octave.  I don't move it at all.  It sounds different in my voice because music always sounds differently sung by a girl than it does by a boy.  But I sound better in that low register.
Now, seriously, I'm not trying to say that I'm a professional grade singer, because that's far from the truth.  I love singing but I probably have a long way to go.  Simultaneously, I know where my strengths lie, and I think that's a huge bonus.

That being said, it has always been a huge, huge dream of mine to sing professionally.  I have always wanted so. badly to be a part of that industry.  You have no idea how much of my heart and soul is in this, and I know how many other people say that, but... I dunno.  I've been singing since I was an infant--and I mean that quite literally--and... there's just... something about the act that makes me feel whole.  Singing makes me feel like, even though so little is right in the world, and so little is right within me, I can put the pieces back together, and I can be okay, and I can have a real, honest-to-God place in the world.
All of this sounds so freaking stupid and hokey and just absolutely ridiculous, but... I mean it.  I really do.

But here's the thing.  As much as I want to, I couldn't possibly do it.  I just couldn't.  I can't write music, though I have tried so desperately for so long.  I hear this music in my head every time I write about a band.  I hear the music that I'm describing in my head as I'm writing about it, but like hell can I ever play it.  It's just not fair, for how badly I want it.
People tell me that it just takes work, practice, a transformation of thought.  But being so involved in music, and being so close to people that are even more involved than I am, the ability to write music doesn't just miraculously appear while studying music in college.  You don't just... develop that.  It doesn't just happen.  Some of you might argue with me, but take some time for some hardcore introspection and try again.  I suppose I could be wrong, but... I dunno.
I know that other people write music for other artists.  I know I don't have to write my own music to make it.  I know that. I do.

My spotlight is not in music.  My spotlight is somewhere in the literature world, and I know that it's out there.  I know it's somewhere, and I'm going to find it.  As much as I wanted it to be in music, it simply isn't.  It just isn't.

My life is not a movie, nor is it a novel.  I don't get to follow all of my dreams, and I don't get to fulfill all of those things that I've prayed for since long before I knew how to.  We aren't meant to do all the things that we wish we could.  We aren't meant to follow all of our dreams.  Even though I can say that, it's still sad to have to admit it.  It's still sad to have to admit to myself that there's no way I can do all these things that I've always wanted to.  Wisdom always comes with a price.  Insight always comes from something that caused pain.  If being smart, being wise and insightful, means plowing through a life full of obstacles, of pains and sorrows, there are days that I would really rather be stupid.  But those times are few and far between, because the help that I have managed to be to people is worth it.  Someone has to go through the struggles so that others don't have to.  It would be nice if it wasn't me, but we aren't given the choice of where our lives go.

My struggles make my stories believable.  My struggles provide the heart, the soul, the energy of my work.  My experiences shape my outlook, and that outlook shapes my material.  I like where my material's been going.  I like so much.  But I have a long way to go.

This isn't a dream that I'm likely to follow.  If that makes you sad, think of all the things you've let fall by the wayside and tell me it's so different.  You have to let go of some things to hold onto others.  My writing is what I choose to hold onto.  My love for singing?  That's not something I'm going to let go of.  It's just not something I'm going to pursue.
It's a back-pocket dream.  And I really think we all need a few of those.


Have a good weekend, you guys.  Live for love and happiness and the dreams of a lifetime.  Tell a stranger s/he's attractive.  Donate.  Smile at the people you pass on the street.  It's the little things that change us daily, but someone has to step forward to do the little things.  Someone has to step forward.
Be the one that steps forward.  You never know what it could mean.

Until next time, and with love,
--Emily Renae
~xoxo

The Preface to The Review of a Hopelessly Amazing Yet Dreadfully Goddamn Sad Novel by One Such Author, John Green

Could that title get any longer? I have my doubts, and my suspicions.

John Green is an author I have discussed at great length at least once in the past. Well, perhaps his work more than himself as an individual, or an author specifically. In complete honesty, if I could get my hands on John's 100% up-front and in-depth life story, I would pay a very large sum for it. That may sound really creepy or stalkerish, but the fact of the matter is that I am highly interested in the play-out of his life which has influenced his writing. Far too much of his work is very heavily influenced by his life and experiences and I cannot deny my intrinsic curiosity about the specifics. I understand that his life is his own and there is absolutely no way that I could ever truly know it--or him by extension--but that does not remove the desire from me. And in all reality, No, I don't actually truly mean that, not in entirety, anyway. I hope you understand that conflict, because I've no desire to further explain it.

John Green has 4 published novels, all of which I am in possession of and 3 of which I have read. I did my final project last semester for my comp class on Looking For Alaska, and I may decide to post at least pieces of it here for you, because it was actually very good--whereas the last paper I posted was absolute garbage, just noting. And I never really got a chance to blog about LFA, either. So... we'll see what happens. Paper Towns was the subject of the blog post before last, and it ended up an extremely long post. I have yet to read An Abundance of Katherines, but I am quite certain that it will be one of my very-near-future endeavors.

I am presently 5 chapters from the completion of The Fault in Our Stars, whose title comes from a Shakespearean poem; I did not mark that page. By the time I actually write the rest of this blog post, I will have finished those 5 chapters. It is currently 2:00 AM on the 7th of February, and I have Microeconomics at 9:30; while not a particularly difficult class, it does require focus, because half-assing economics is kind of a dumb idea.

I kind of made this book into a project with quotes. While reading, I picked out quotes that stood out specifically to me, for whatever reason that might have been. I also asked a very good friend (one of my best, as a matter of fact; I feel it important to qualify that) to do the same thing. I haven't got a clue if she actually did it or not, but my book is full of little pink post-it tabbies. I may or may not eventually take them all out; it's hard to say at this point. This book is not as infinitely quotable as LFA was, or even Paper Towns, but TFiOS wasn't about being amusingly quotable, or really necessarily 'quotable' in general. It simply wasn't. Isn't. However you'd like it expressed. The Fault in Our Stars is... is... tragic. It's tragic and it's beautiful and yes, in places, it's incredibly funny, but it's so... Dreadfully Goddamn Sad. That's what it is. That's why I said it in the first place.

John Green writes about life. He writes about life and how dreadfully goddamn unfair it is and he doesn't pretend like because this is a novel, everything gets to end up being okay. Green doesn't do that to us. He doesn't sugarcoat the awfulness of things. He doesn't provide an illusion of grandeur to things that are just lifelessly... well... un-grand. There are far too many words that would fit there for me to pick even a few, so I'm going to use a very graceless "un-grand" instead, and you can just cope with it because sometimes, Green makes me very sad, indeed. And this novel makes me very sad.

I thoroughly appreciate that Green is 100% abhorrently realistic and honest and truthful and blunt while managing to be graceful and delicate and bold and creative and beautiful. I thoroughly appreciate that he doesn't just make the end glittering and golden because, as readers, as optimists, as people, we all want it to be. He doesn't make the ending happy because life so very rarely ends happily, and this is the heart of what Green is portraying: Life. Real, honest-to-God, painful, joyful, unfair, beautiful life.

Tomorrow we'll discuss this novel. Tomorrow I will cry, and I will wish I didn't get so emotionally attached to characters on paper and I will praise John Green for creating such beautifully dynamic characters and I will hate life for being what it is. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.

Author's note: I wrote this last night at 2, as stated, but am forced to post it NOW because Blogger is being an absolute butthead. I don't understand what the hell is going on, but it's pissing me off. I will have a follow-up posted ASAP. Promise.

Jewelry

If you've been around, you'll have seen the last post I made about my beadwork.  I posted pictures and all that mumbo jumbo.  It's great fun, beading, though it's getting kind of... or, well, very? expensive.  We'll just go with an adverb-less 'expensive.'  Beads are expensive, wire is expensive, findings are expensive, tools are expensive. Well, crochet hooks aren't that expensive, but nevertheless.  It's not a cheap hobby.  (Are they ever?)

Anyway.  I've been making a whole buncha stuff for Christmas gifts.  And I just feel like displaying them.  Because they really are really cool.  And I'm sorta kinda considering making it a little side-business/project.  Selling them and all that.  The only thing is that it ends up being really time consuming and I'm not 100% sure how much I'd have to actually charge for them... I mean, I have an idea, I guess, but... shrug.  And I fear the potential level of demand.  I gave one to my cousin for her birthday and sold one to her best friend and they already have a huge group of people that want one.  It's a lot to attempt to keep up with.  Plus, sometimes I feel like there's a cap on my creativity.  Whatever.

Anyway.  So this is what I've got for you today. (=

I inset an image of the beadwork/weave/whatever-you-wanna-call-it in the middle, just so you can get kind of a concept of what it looks like. (=

It's pretty cool.  I'm really a fan.  I'm going to make more for me, too, but right now I'm a bit preoccupied making gifts.

Oh! And then the lady that works with the Minot Council of the Arts, Terri Aldrich, decided that she liked my necklaces and wants me to set up a booth at Arts in the Parks this summer.  I kind of want to do it, I think, but I don't know if I'll be able to make that dang many pieces!  Though... yeah, I probably can, I guess. hahaha.  It's just a lot of expense for potential profit quite a ways out.

Look at me, thinking like a businesswoman.  Jeez. hahahaha.

Moving along.

I put an inset of the one side of the center bead as well, just cause it looks cool and is kinda sorta intricate.
I'm just playin' with picnik--leave me alone!

A) I didn't do a spectacular job on the inset on this one. Sorry. My bad.
B) If you think it looks thicker than the others, you're right.  It is.  I used 4 strands on this one instead of the usual 3.  And I kind of like it.  Even though it was such a pain in the ass I very much doubt I'll do it much. hahaha

This last one I think I'm keeping.  I MIGHT give it to my sister-in-law, but it's hard to say right now.  I have yet to decide.  Hell, I don't even know if she'd actually like it.  But we'll see.  I like it, and that's enough motivation just to keep it.
I wanted to keep most of the ones that I've been making lately. hahaha.  My grandma just told me she wants me to do commission work, hahahaha.  Which I can handle.  If she's going to pay me to make something she wants, hellz yes.

Anyway.  That's what I have for you today. (=

Ta ta!
--Emily Renae

P.S.--Merry Christmas.  Since that's like, tomorrow/Sunday and all. (=

Paper Towns

The title of this post is pretty indicative of the intended content, I think.  It's 3:04 in the morning and I should really be sleeping because my boyfriend is coming out tomorrow--today, I guess--oh yeah, you guys, I have a boyfriend; kinda forgot to mention that, as though it really mattered--and I should really be sleeping because I have shit to do before he gets here and I'm so exhausted lately I just want to sleep all the damn time and I don't have time to sleep because I have too many things to do and SO not enough time to do them in because I have a job that I have to drive back and forth to Minot for and that takes a SHIT TON of time, if you didn't know that already.
That was... like... one sentence, guys.  One really big, run-on sentence.  My English teachers would be ashamed.
Fortunately for me, this isn't a graded assignment!  So screw them.  (And I don't think I'm actually taking an English course this semester.  Whoops.)  Anyway. Moving along.

I just finished reading Paper Towns by John Green today.  Queue book cover:

There are two different covers for this book, and I haven't decided which one I like better.  This is the one I have, which is the main reason I'm using it right now.  Depending on how freaking long I talk about it, I may through the other one in as well.  I'm really hoping to not keep myself up til, like, 5 in the morning.  Not even 4 if I can help it.  But I'm sitting up. And my back is cold. What is this place coming to??

Anyway. Sorry.  Somehow I'm also vaguely hyper-active and I really need to get back on topic.  *cough*
The more accurate asterisk-action would be *sniffle* but let's leave my cold out of this.

I'm going to need both frickin covers just to get into the book.
And it seems my swearing increases the longer I've been awake.  Sorry.  Trying to calm down.  And I have band music stuck in my head because I was practicing my flute last night.  I half-wonder how long I might allow myself to ramble like this before I say what I mean to...

ANYWAY!  The book, the book.  I'm serious now.

Quentin Jacobsen is a mild-mannered guy.  His parents are both psychiatrists.  What the hell do you expect?  And he's a senior in high school.  A bit of a nerd, but not overwhelmingly so.  Actually, all in all, he's relatively boring.  At least at the start of the novel.  He's just a boy.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I imagine him to be a sorta kinda cute-ish boy, but just a boy nonetheless.
And he's practically in love with his neighbor: Margo Roth Speigelman.  (I like the name Margo, just for the record.  At first I thought it was sort of odd, but I grew to rather like it.)  Except that as the novel proceeds, Quentin finds that it's not really Margo he's in love with, it's the idea of Margo.  Because he realizes that he actually really doesn't know Margo--none of them do.
Margo involves him in a night of adventures and then suddenly disappears.  Apparently it's nothing new, as she's run away to do things in the past.  Only this time, she isn't coming back.  Much turmoil takes its place in the pages following Margo's disappearance, and I can't help but sympathize with Quentin.  Simultaneously, knowing what I know, I sympathize with her as well.

As with Looking for Alaska, Paper Towns has a lot of philosophy running throughout its pages.  Concepts that I think more people need to be introduced/exposed to and made to think about.  Not just because they're big, deep concepts, but because they are important ones that help to allow us to grow as individuals.  At this point in my life, I have actually come to address most of the things discussed in this book already, but John Green has this beautiful knack for addressing it differently than I do.  Obviously, because he's a different person.

For example, one of the themes is that we, as individuals, have a tendency to look at others not as people, but as ideas, as concepts.  We see in others what we see in ourselves, so it's sort of like looking into a mirror.  We need to act more as windows instead of mirrors, so that we look into people, not at reflections of what we want to see.
This is kind of difficult to discuss the way I'd really like to.  I'm not entirely sure how to break it down decently.  Or really at all.

When we look at people, we see what we want to see, not necessarily what's there.  We see outward appearance and make psychological judgments based on these appearances.  We look at a person's behavior and start creating this image of who and what we think this person is, and then it doesn't really matter what this person does, the image of them we have created is who they are in our minds.  And every person will come up with a different image of this person of discussion--that's the trick of it.  None of us are going to see exactly the same person because we all have our own internal prejudices and hang ups and baggage that alters how we see everything--even if/when we don't realize it.
In this way we sort of act as mirrors.  Because we are projecting onto others the things we see--or don't see but hold--inside of ourselves.  This kind of blocks our ability to actually consider others to be people--individuals--instead of ideas.  We become so entranced with the idea of someone that when we actually start to get to know them and begin to discover that they aren't some mystical, entrancing enigma, they're just a person, we become disappointed.  I don't understand why.
I like to think I have escaped all of this that I've just mentioned.  I'm fully aware of it, and I like to think that I see people, not ideas.  But even still, I find myself realizing that this person I'm talking to isn't who I thought they were.  Sometimes I like the idea better than the person.  Sometimes it's the other way around.  I don't think any of us can truly escape it forever; I think it's a war in which we win and lose certain battles.

This can actually kind of tie into the themes of Looking For Alaska, namely the question of Simon Bolivar's labyrinth.  What if, instead of suffering, the labyrinth was our habit to see ideas instead of people?  Maybe Bolivar's labyrinth is actually the convoluted confines of seeing two-dimensional people in a three-dimensional world.  People are more than just an idea, a concept, a vision or an enigma, and sometimes, it takes a lot of work to see that.

(I went to bed and am writing now Tuesday evening, just for the record):
Paper Towns is much more light-hearted than LFA was, all the way to the end, but even still it gets a bit heavy.  Quite frankly, I'd have been disappointed if it hadn't.  The ending is as equally unfulfilling as Alaska, but kind of in a different manner.  I sent this text to a friend last night:
"Are all of the endings of John Green's novels so painfully unfulfilling?

I suppose that's ultimately the purpose of his writing, to be both perfectly and beautifully philosophical and yet so endlessly and sadly unfulfilling, since thus is the unalterable nature of life: to ignore what we want and make its own twists and turns and decisions without our pior approval or satisfaction.
In that way, Green's become one of my very favorite authors--for being so philosophical and idealistic while remaining almost brutally realistic."
The rest doesn't matter. lol.
To which she replies:
"[...]  I think the main thing with his books is that they masquerade as simple YA literature, but have many of the elements of the classics--namely, that the theme and message take precedence over the plot.  While other endings might be more satisfying from a more simplistic storytelling standpoint, John Green writes the ending that drives his point home and makes his audience think."

One of the things that I noticed while reading this book is that I'd actually already gone through most of the things that Quentin was going through, so I'd already come to the realizations that he had and so I kind of spent the duration of the novel biding my time until Quentin made the necessary revelations.  Like the fact that he had to accept who Ben was and stop wishing he was somebody else and just like him as Ben because that was all he was ever going to get.  Et cetera.

Also... another thing I kind of noticed is how remarkably similar it is to Looking for Alaska by way of characterization.  Miles and Quentin are nigh identical in numerous ways--all the important ones--while worlds different in others.  Alaska and Margo are the same enigmatic, frustrating, crazy, beautiful girl in different circumstances with different plights.  But... they're kind of the same.
And I can't really fault Green for that, because I've noticed that I have a bit of a tendency to do that as well.  The main characters are all relatively similar and it's because they are based, most often, on a part of me.  Not me entirely, but a part of me.  And it's quite apparent--if you know anything at all about John Green--that his protagonists are based broadly upon himself.  Which isn't a bad thing; in fact it's often a very good idea, because it's easier to write believable actions/reactions/thought processes.  Just saying.

So that's that.  Paper Towns.  One less book I need to take back to campus in January.  I'm about halfway through Narcissus in Chains, book 10 in the Anita Blake series, and I guarantee I'll be done by Christmas, so that knocks another one down.  I'm kind of trying to catch up on my reading over break.  I have so many other things I need to be doing instead, but I need to read for the well-being of my psyche.  I miss books.  And I feel like my writing is kind of shitty lately.  So I definitely need to do some reading, because that always improves it.  It's kind of like research, in a way.
I've started using GoodReads, which is kind of like an internet library.  It allows you to list and rate books that you have read, are currently reading, and want to read.  I really like it.  Plus, when you finish a book, it allows you to write a review of it if you want.  I do, of course--imagine: Emily has something to say about a book. hahaha.


Oh.  And I have a couple of albums to review, but I'm not gonna do it today.  Maybe tomorrow.  Unlikely, considering I have to drive an hour to work 8, go on a date and then drive the hour back home.  Not like it's THAT big of a deal, but I doubt I'll be much in the mood to blog by the time I'm done.

So that's that.  And I'm out.

Ta ta!
--Emily Renae <3