Campaign Crap

Anyone else tired of seeing Obama and H. Clinton's face? That's what I thought.

I'm going to be turning eighteen just in time for elections so I've been following the race pretty closely, but I'm just sick of all the crap. All I ever see is Hillary and Obama on the TV saying derogatory things about each other. The occasional picture of them drinking and a couple of low blows to H's love life. This is ridiculous. Should we really care about this? DOES anyone care? I highly doubt it.

I mean, yeah, these are our candidates and as such they are subject to scrutiny, but I don't think the fact that Hillary gets a little teary sometimes or Obama enjoys a beer every now and again is going to change who they are. Let's see some real issues folks! Let's hear about what there going to do about the war, economy, immigration, etc. The rest is superfluous.

Some of the best known politicians in history have had terrible personal habits. J.F.K, adulterer extraordinaire. Thomas Jefferson, rumoured to have small colony of illegitimate African children...Think of a political hero you have. Go research them --a little extensively if you please--. Chances are that they were substance abusers, adulterers, or just overall crappy people to know personally.

So, I appeal to whatever Patron Saint/Deity that controls these media people. I ask only that we cover a little less of this superfluous information and get down to the things that are going to be affecting our nation and consequently the world.

* Small afterthought: Whatever happened to McCain? Come on Republicans. We at least need the semblance of a party choice.

**Slightly larger afterthought: Is Nader running this year? If there was any chance of him getting in I would so vote for that guy. What persistence.

***Since I don't like reading about the campaign I'll try to make this the last post that I write about it. At least until something significant and blog worthy comes up.

Final Draft Evil and Misquoted Titles

I'm just sitting here at 1:00 a.m. finishing up the last bits of my final draft for a paper I've not been working on for ages...You would have thought I'd learned my lesson with the rough draft. Think again suckers! No amount of painful frantic stress will teach me a lesson! Observe the resilient tendencies of procrastination.

I was just staring at my blog. With it's nice Through the Looking Glass title and thought to myself, " Oh haha. You have the title Through the Looking Glass, but your quote is from Alice in Wonderland. Bravo."

Back to the paper.

It's a NEW DAY!

Spring is gross. It's wet, soggy, and filled with mosquitoes. Ants attack everything I lay down and there's flies waiting in a queue to get in my house. Allergies make it impossible for me to breath and leave me with attractively blood shot eyes.

But, oh, how I LOVE it! Everything is green and flowers are coming out. I was just out walking around and our dogwood trees are in bloom. The apple blossoms smell wonderful. There was even enough daisies to make a bouquet. I love you Earth.

Spring always makes me have epiphanies. The same epiphanies, but I'm surprised every year. If I fail at life, if I don't become an English teacher or a publicist. If I'm left bitter and alone because I'm caustic and unpersonable...There's still Spring, and it is wonderful. I don't understand how anyone can't believe that there is a God during spring time. Whatever deity you believe in. Spring must make them apparent.

So, come all ye victims of seasonal depression and rejoice! Spring is here and it is a new day.

This is a New Day

New Day --Melee

Morning sunshine come light my life like you said you can.

With the windows open, all the spirits fly away.

Pull the wings off a bird who cannot fly ,

And I'll make you feel the pain where she lies .

'Cause this is a new day for broken hands and breaking backs.

This is a new day for lovers' hands and fighting hands .

To finally be set free from tragedy.

Morning sunshine come light my life like you said you can,

And i'll give you all the time that we need now.

To figure out where we can go just to be alone,

And I'll watch you wash your body clean,

of all the things you wish you'd never seen.

I cast these stones upon my broken hands.

I cast these stones upon my back ,

I cast these stones upon my soul .

My ghost will carry me home,

Carry me into a brand new day.

Say, "AHH!". Then repeat.

Oh, haha. I've had a research paper assigned for about four weeks now. It's due Thursday. Have I started it? No. Have I got the sources? No. *hysterical laughing here* Now, if you want to know what's going on in my head I'll show you. Here's a little exercise.

First, scream the words, " ARG FREAKING BLEEP FREAKING NO!"

Okay, good job. Now repeat.

Keep going.

Well, your still not there, but we'll settle for now. You've got an e for effort! xD

But, even with the paper looming over my head I manage to read my required dose of fiction.

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine

Aza has hair as black as a raven, cheeks whiter than snow, and lips the color of a dragons tongue. To round her appearance off nicely she also has pulpy cheeks and a waist the size of a tree-trunk. Gail Carson Levine manages to take an old fairy tale and make you fall in love with it all over again. Fairest is a great remake of Snow White complete with poison apple, but has so many new elements that you don't feel as if your having to read the same story for the thousandth time. Which oft happens in those remakes.

Slightly more angsty than Ella Enchanted, but stil lovely and appropriate for young children and fairy tale loving adults alike. It's a boon to all the girls --you guys might like it too-- out there who were ever ridiculed for their appearances.

I liked the book, but wasn't nearly as emotionally attatched to the characters as I was in The Two Princesses or Ella Enchanted. You just don't get enough time with anyone to care too much.

An extremely disturbing aspect--> One of the characters( one of the romantic characters I'm afraid to say.) is mentioned to have abnormally big ears. My band director has big ears. Therefore, whenever it talks about the book character I keep seeing Mr.Denton. Disturbing? You betcha.

The Somnamnbulist

Another shameless review that I did for my school paper. --What?! I wrote it therefore it still counts. Plus, it's nice to see that I've got a start on what I want to become blog devoted more to reviews and less to dreary posts.--

The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes

Ah, the dimly lit aisles of a book store swim before my eyes as I squint at many a title. For the past three hours I have been searching for one decent book to do a review on and have only come away with dozens of cliché captions. The standards for publicists have obviously reached an all time low. The standards for authors aren’t so hot either. --I was still annoyed with one of the smart eleck clerks when I wrote this*--

Finally I came away with The Somnambulist. Edward Moon is a washed out magician who used to be famous for his ability to solve crimes, but now is past his prime. Boredom is starting to get to him when one day he gets a visit from Inspector Merryweather who needs help with a new case. “This one’s special,” the man insisted. “There’s something queer about it, someting grisly and gothic and bizarre. So you can see why I thought of you.” Gothic and bizarre describes most of the book.

Moon is pulled deep into the twisted world of Victorian England as he searches for answers. Along the way he encounters a bearded woman**, the human fly, a man who lives backwards in time***, and his faithful sidekick The Somnambulist. What seems to be a straight up murder mystery in the beginning quickly changes into a humor-filled quest for answers as Moon and The Somnambulist uncover a cult whose goal is to take down London and rebuild it using the pantisocratic plans of the poet Coleridge.

What I still don't understand is why it was called The Somnambulist. The title character is in fact only a minor type that shadows Moon around. A tall, bald, golem like guy that communicates by writing on a slate and has a passion for milk. There are several vague references about him resembling Gog and Magog the last of Englands giants, but beyond that his origins aren't elaborated on. The most remarkable thing about him is that he can be impaled, slashed, and sliced with nary a drop of blood being shed. Well, I didn't say he wasn't odd. He just isn't featured enough to warrant the book being titled after him.

It’s somewhat confusing in places, but for the most part it’s funny enough that you won’t care. Never fear though, by the last three chapters everything is resolved quite nicely and all the odd pieces stitched together. If you like dark Victorian books with random bits of humor thrown in...this is a must. If you are easily grossed out by descriptions of gore and the occasional just plain gross, then it’s a must not.

--> Back to me--> This book was pretty decent considering that it was J. Barnes's first. It's funny in places and very confusing in others, but does have that nice 1800s feel to it with a large dash of fantasy. Who can resist, eh?

* The book store that I usually frequent has this really annoying know-it-all clerk. When ever I ask him questions he sneers at me. I know! Though, since I assosciate him with books I'm slightly fond of the jerk.

**A bearded whore actually. There's a really REALLY odd scene involving a place of ill repute and disfigurment.

***A man living backwards in time? Does this ring of T.H. White's Once and Future King or is it just me?

Gemma Doyle Trilogy--Pt. III

Umkay, this is going to be my final say on the series and then I shall mention them in my blog no more.


--A review that I did for my highschool paper and am now shamelessly posting on here.--

At first glance, A Great and Terrible Beauty appears to be just another cliche book lurking in the Teens section, but if you take out the time to pick it up it's actually worth a read. Gemma is a girl stuck in the Victorian age with the unfortunate afliction of independent thought. After the suicide of her mother she is sent from her home in India to Spence, a boarding school for young ladies, where she has to deal with petty girls and the unwanted attention of an Indian boy who followed her from home. She can also conjure a door of light that leads to a place called the Realms. While there she finds out that she is descended from a line of priestesses that governed the mysterious Realms and is the only one who can restore their secret society called The Order. At every turn there is another reason to question who she trusts and more people waiting to thwart her efforts at harnessing the magic.

The book captures the struggle of being a free spirited woman in a time when society wanted your body and mind both corseted. It also manages to throw in a classic batch of good versus evil in the form of ancient magic. A decent introductory book into the Gemma Doyle trilogy, it's followed up by Rebel Angels and The Sweet Far Thing. Both of which are much better than the first. It's dark and angsty, so if you don't do that sort of thing I would pass it by, but for all the rest of you...I would definitely go get myself a copy.

Back to me --> I know. Trying not to throw in exactly what I think complete with petty thoughts is almost physically painful, but I must restrain myself. They'd just get edited out of the paper anyhow. xD

I did REALLY like this series and to finish up this review I give you a comment from Wonder Duck --Which I just now noticed while scrolling down to see what I'd written on Gemma-- It really sums it up much more nicely than I can. Hopefully she doesn't mind.


DUDE. I love those books! And it's funny, because I had the same reservations as you did when I started reading them. Even the COVER of the book looked cliche, forget the description on the back. But the more I read the more I liked it. Couldn't figure out why at first, but I finally realized after I finished the second book that it's because of the characters. They're REAL girls. They're not all angels with a few token flaws to make them seem like real people. As much as I love the novel, they're not like the girls in Little Women, who do something naughty but always learn the moral at the end of the chapter. They're not always selfless and strong and particularly kind. They do snotty things and make bad decisions, and sometimes I find myself downright disliking them. But that's what makes them REAL. It's what makes them human. I've never met someone who never had a selfish thought or didn't ever do something with selfish intentions. It's the human condition. But even through the hefty character flaws, they still have zest and personality and vulnerability that's relatable. You can still find things to like about them.

Review, Review, Review!

Alright! I've finally decided to sit down and write a review on a couple of books. I really like recommending books I read to other people and then lending them out. Sharing books gives me a warm fuzzy feeling of, " Ah, share the knowledge." --As much knowledge as my predilection for fiction/fantasy allows anyhow.--

It's very unlikely that I will do a review on a book I don't like. I mean, come on, those are easy to find and I've never understood why magazine's/newspaper's write them. The only exception being if I REALLY don't like it and feel it imperative that everyone else avoid it. ;)

To Slog

WARNING! This is one of those dreary posts that I oft feel obligated to write. So, if that's not your thing read no further.

Slog--To make (one's way) with a slow heavy pace against resistance.

O, to slog my days away. Through solemn December and blooming May. Who am I slogging against you ask. Well, I shall tell you, my friend. I slog against time. Against stupidity. Against MYSELF! Yes, at every turn and I am thwarted by none other than the own denizens of my mind. They revolt constantly and never agree with my decisions. Therefore I slog.

My entire life seems to be a giant quagmire right now. I have to push through all of this thick foggy stuff in order to interact with other people and sometimes it's just not worth it. Unfortunately it's finally gotten to where I have to push through to talk to myself. I know! No wonder I never make any sense. My mind spends so much time in inactivity that it's started to stagnate. Which means that when I do need to pull something out of it it's usually covered in pond muck and barely discernible.

Of course, the thick foggy stuff may just mean I need glasses.

Across the Universe

Finally! I've been waiting forever to watch Across the Universe and now I have. It was even better than I had anticipated. Definitely my new favorite movie. So I thought I'd get on here and tell everyone to go watch it and maybe do a movie review, but then I said to myself,

' Starr, you don't do MOVIE reviews. You hardly do book reviews...I suppose you could try.'

'I suppose your right. I don't do movie reviews...or book reviews. Why did I bother starting this post again?'

' Promoting something....'

And now here I am. In order to encourage you instead of scare you off, I shall leave you with a list of words instead of a review.

Bono.
Beatles.
Dancing.
Irish Accent.
Hey Jude.

Yeah, I know you want to go watch it now. Tootaloo.

O Book Review!

I'm back my peoples! With me I bring the reviewing of some books.

Gemma Doyle Trilogy by Libba Bray

An entire series of books! Yes, I've already did a bit of a rough review on A Great and Terrible Beauty and said that I would save my verdict on the book until I finished the trilogy....Well, the verdict is in. I liked it. Yes, indeed. Go read it. Now.

Bibliophilic Vermin

Oh ho! No school for me today, apparently the rain was freezing on the mountain so all of they county schools were called off. Why is this important you ask. Well, I'll tell you, my friend. Today makes the fourth day off from school. Indeed! You may well gasp in terror. Four days is much too long a weekend when your not expecting it.

I had no books lined up and my sad lack of vehicle makes it impossible to leave the house. So, I got to stay at home. By myself. Now, don't get me wrong. I have no issues with staying at the house by myself, I'm 17 for goodness sake, but if left without proper stimulation for more than three hours my imagination will get carried away with itself. I start seeing people out of the corners of my eyes, people walking past my door, unfamiliar reflections in the mirror, and that oh so cliche tapping on the window. By the time four hours have passed I'm jumping around corners brandishing a serrated kitchen knife and screaming at inanimate objects.

After about four and half hours I've decided that a nap is called for. So, I put all pointy objects back in their drawers and make my way to my bedroom. A safe haven if there ever was one. My room is largely occupied by books and large piles of clothes. A sneak attack through there is impossible. I would be alerted when they stumbled over strategically placed pile of suitcases. --These would be old empty suit cases. Great for keeping random unorganizable clutter in.--

Five and a half hours have passed alone when the crunch crunch of disturbed papers wakes me. Ha ha! So, my fear of the unknown is justified. Something has found it's way into my room. I sit up and listen carefully, positive that I HAD heard something. Once again, I hear the sound of paper crinkling. Yet, I see no one. Perhaps there is a friendly spirit that's doing my overdue Chemistry homework. Afraid not, the Chemistry book is sitting forlornly on my desk waiting to be neglected some more. The origin of the sound seems to be coming from one of my bookshelves, so I grab a flash light and walk over to investigate. I get down on the floor and there it is. An adorable shiny black eyed mouse.

It was just a piece of a mouse, less than half the size of my palm.-- Guess of course. I did NOT pick the disease ridden thing up.-- After the mandatory second of, " Aren't you just a cute mouse?!" I was forced to decide on an action.

I could:

A. Toss it some cheese and hope that it decides not to procreate.
B. Set up some nice catch and release traps.
C. Smash it with a hammer!

My decision was taken from me when it whipped itself around revealing twice it's body length in long bald tail. **Insert grossed out shivering here.** That sucker had to die. I picked up the nearest long thrustable object which happpend to be a ridicuously heavy and blunted sword. --Note to self: Look into long spears.-- I had the light trained on it's beady little eyes when it blinked. Drat. For some reason I associate blinking with the communication.

Now my straight forward plan of seek and destroy had been thwarted by the fact that it as obviously trying to tell my something. That was all it took to restart the imagination drive that had been turned off when my baser cave man instincts kicked in. --" Ung. Me want kill mouse."--

Maybe the mouse wasn't a mouse at all! Mayhap it was the reencarnated spirit of some ancient philosopher. It was attracted to the irresistable smell of books and was now trying to tell me who it was. Once an inkwell was provided it would obviously be able to provide me with the meaning of life written in small mousey scrawl. It was quite clear that it was up to me to preserve this furred fountain of knowledge.

I was trying to decide if it resembled Aristotle or Descartes more when it decided to scurry UP the bookshelf. Oh snap. Not only did my rodent friend possess ancient philosophical strategy, it had also been bitten by a radioactice spider. The advantage higher ground was now on it's side and jumped back with, "EEk! EEk!" clearly racing through my mind. All thoughts of preservation were now off. The want to help a defensless creature had now turned to outmaneuvering a spidey-power endowed philosophizing rat.

I got it cornered between two bookshelves and did a one handed stab at it through the crack. Swordmanship is obviously not my forte because I hadn't even stunned it. It was now blinking up at me in one last attempt at intelligible communication. I had already figured out this was just another ploy of the mouse race to incite mercy. You can not fool me again! I positioned the light and put both hands on the sword this time, steadying my aim. I struck down! Right before I reached it I had a thought of how gross actually stabbing it was going to be. Plus, I would get mouse gore all over my carpet. So, instead of a death lunge it was more of a creepy caress that said, " There, there, Mouse. Why don't you go nibble on Tolkein. It's full of fine quality paper."

So, the mouse got away. I've resorted to locking all three of our cats in my room and hoping for the best. The moral of this story? If you don't constantly feed your brain new information then it will TURN on you.

Spidey Mouse indeed.

To Not Review

**SIGH**

I know that last post was just a giant pile of pettiness and grudge holding, but I am a petty grudge holding jerk. First step to recovery...;)


On a less personal note --not so much of less personal as less "Look at me! I'm a teen who can't let go of things that happened years ago."-- I just finished the Abhorsen Trilogy by Garth Nix. It was good. Go read it.

I'm not going to do a review on it--I can hear your sigh of relief from here-- right now. Haha! Thought you were going to get out of it. Suckers. I don't want to do any reviews for this blog until I get my newspaper book review done. I can't decide what book to do it on. Sigh.

I mean, what is high school paper appropriate? I was going to do The Book of Lost Things, but decided that it was maybe too disturbing for a high school paper. Well, with the heart eating Rumplestiltskin and graphic child decapitating scenes it IS a bit disturbing for young peoples. Then I moved on to The Book Thief. I don't know, I just don't want to do another review on it. --Reason why I'm not doing a review on here: Because then I don't want to do it again for the paper. I might decide to review Garth Nix's books for the paper, therefore you don't get to hear about it.-- Also thought about doing Libba Bray's A Great and Terrible Beauty, but decided that the books were aimed too much at young women. I hate labeling books, so I'm NOT going to call it Chick Lit. I'm sure if some guy could get past his over inflated ego to read it, he has just as much chance as I do at enjoying it. I live in Tennessee. The guys have southernized over inflated egos.

So, what to review? I dunno. I was asking you.

Condescension and a Fun Noodle

So, this is my first week sitting in my new chair--Saxophone chair--. This chair happens to be in the front row of two. This means that I get first part now. Unfortunately, we've been working on some songs for about two weeks now and this is the first time I've seen my new part. Therefore, I am behind.

This normally wouldn't be a problem. I would practice, get the part, move on. Yet, there is a little snag in my process. Third chair.

**Brief interlude for violent swearing.**

She, almighty saxophonist that she is, has been leaning over next to me to listen. When we get to a hard part she plays very loud and pointedly at me. This, from any other person, would be grudgingly welcomed. Third chair, on the other hand, is decidedly unwelcome to say anthing to me. She is a backstabbing decomposing piece of crap. She stole boyfriend freshmen year. She stole my best friend at the beginning of this year. She is not to be trusted. Most of all, she is not to EVER correct me. I just started playing the part, it's going to take a couple of days for me to get the hang of the new one.

She will not correct me with impunity!! The next time she says something, or does her little lean over and play routine, I'm going to take HER saxophone and beat her over the head with it!

Fine, fine, violence is not a solution to my problems. There will be no beating...Well, maybe I could just get one of those fun noodle floats you put in pools and hit her a couple of times. Just a few times...not even that hard...Fine! No fun noodle either.

The condescension must stop. The only way I can see to end it is to get better than her. This means more practicing. I have a horrible feeling that scales are becoming a habit.

She has already asked me to challenge her so that she can turn me down and be automatically moved down a seat. This is so she can sit next to her boyfriend. Well, I laugh at her and her intentions. I don't plan to challenge her at all. If I challenge anyone it will be second chair! If I have a place in my section it will be earned, not given to me.

Almost, But Not Quite

Try outs have came and gone and the verdict has been given. Fourth. Fourth out of sixteen saxophones. Ah ha! I didn't fail at life completely.

**polite applause** "Thank you, thank you."

The entire day of try outs was spent in queasy anticipation of my imminent downfall to completely worthless. I got absolutely no school work done and by the time three o'clock rolled around I was just about to burst into a fit of hysterical screaming complete with changing octaves.

All of the saxophones were in the band room waiting for their turn at self inflicted torture. Some were standing idly by and chatting and others --me-- were playing their prepared pieces over in over in hopes of last minute improvement. As the other players walked to the storage cabinet I slunk back into my chair, trying to avoid notice so that I could get those extra two minutes of practicing in. Finally, my turn was fast approaching. After the next person I was up...

You'll never guess what I did. I dropped my saxophone. Dropped it. On the floor. Oddly enough, this is the first time I've dropped the thing. It's the first time I've dropped any saxophone. Ah, but here's the highlight. Not only did I drop it, I bent several of the keys. This made it impossible for me to go any lower than a G. Shiva weeps.

Thankfully, one of the sophomores let me borrow their saxophone. Bless you benevolent sophomores! Just in time too, as I pushed my mouth piece on Mr.Denton walked out the door scythe in hand. Beckoning to his next victim. "Oh, me you say?"

I walked into the storage closet--You know how I feel about those.-- and was pleasantly surprised to realize that this one was larger than last years. Seconds later it dawned on me that there was no low lying fog or dim lighting. Thank goodness!

Even with the lack of fog etc. I was a nervous wreck playing on a foreign saxophone and did not do my best, but he didn't say anything--He usually takes out time to correct us during try outs. This is not a good idea considering how close I am to hysterical during these things.--and I didn't stay in there longer than I had too.

So, for now I must for fourth, but I will be challenging. Hopefully, by the time challenges roll around I'll have my saxophone fixed. Fifth chair has already said that he's challenging me. Well, I like my chair and he can't have it. Now let some more practicing ensue...

The Storage Closet of Doom

Oh holy nine gates of hell! I have try outs Tuesday. Tuesday. I have two days until try outs. I feel queasy just thinking about it.

Try outs are, without a doubt, the bain of my existence. You see, I have had many a try out and all of them were accompanied by a horrific nightmare-ish quality. It's like a really old detective movie where they're sitting in the interrogation room. Mr.Private Detective is sitting behind his desk cooly waiting for you to break under the pressure of his deductive skills. Meanwhile, you're sitting there using a slightly yellowed handkerchief to wipe away your perspiration. Exactly like that.

My first try out was held in the sixth grade. I had been playing the saxophone for a year and was no doubt behind the others that had been playing for two. Mr.C (Short man with red hair who has a tendency to look flushed) is sitting in his office. By office, I mean small closet that has been converted into a dimly lit extremely cramped room of torture. I don't remember much of it. What I do remember seems to be filled with flickering lights, shaking papers, and fog. Yes, fog. I think he brought in dried ice for the occasion. The sicko.

But, I'm not here to tell you about then. I'm here to tell you about now. The past two years I have had to try out for the high school band director, Mr.Denton. My extreme fear of Mr.C has obviously carried over to Mr.Denton with interest. Freshmen year try outs involved a darkly lit chorus room. Sophomore try outs were moved into small storage room. This years try outs...I fear they may be moved into a even smaller and dimly lit storage room. Oh blast.

Band directors and small dimly lit storage closets must be feared. Freud has something to say about early childhood traumas effecting you later in life. See. I'm not crazy. Ask Freud.

I should be frantically practicing, but if I practice then I'm forced to think about the you-know-what. So I'm going to safely avoid any type of thinking by reading. Yeah.

I wouldn't be worried so much, but this is the last year I have to get first chair. I don't want anyone else to have it, therefore I must get it. If this means using sabotage and unchivalrous poisonings...duty isn't always pleasant you know.

Wish me luck and safe sabotaging. I'm off to conquer a room of dusty band equipment.

Literary Roses

What makes a good book? There is an unlimited amount of things that can be taken into account: word choice,descriptions,plot,characters....

For example--There is a book called The Historian that I'm fond of. If you just take into account the plot, then I might accept it as okay if a bit dry. The thing that I really enjoy about it is the descriptions of places. The characters travel all over Europe and England and the author goes to great lengths to make sure you can visualize your surroundings. The words enable you to see a Romanian forest in minute detail, down to the moss on logs.

I know that reading is only limited to your imagination. If I was reading a book lacking descriptions then I could easily create scenery of my own to go with it. Probably with ridiculously unrelated decorations, but that's one of the many wonders that accompany fiction. Sometimes it's just nice to be able to let the story teller guide your attention to the warm tile of Venice and the colors of the sunset. Not for plots sake or any particular purpose. Just to stop and smell the literary roses.

A List and Some Books

Alright! *rubs hand together* There are many about to happen.

1. I go back to school Monday.
2. I have band tryouts on the 15th.
3. This is the second semester and as such I need to endeavor not to screw it up as badly as I did the first.
4. I'm going to tell you about some of the books that I read over break.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

A book set in Nazi Germany and narrated by a sentimental misunderstood Death. Death has been carting ( or carrying if you want to be picky) souls to heaven since the beginning of time and sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. He can't just let souls wander around wreaking havoc so he finds an outlet in distractions. His main distraction is the color of the sky. I found it slightly confusing at first, his mentioning random colors, but I finally realized what he was talking about. Most of you will probably pick up on it quicker than I did. Especially if you've read this first...Right. He is reluctantly drawn into the story of Liesel Meminger, The Book Thief.

The story centers around a young girl who is trying to survive in a world of hunger,suspicion, and the terrors of the Nazi Party. Thankfully, it doesn't get hung up on those things. :) The book does make nice political points just by being and showing what it was like, but it doesn't use the girl as an instrument of education by putting her through untold horrors and making her act twice her age.$ My horrible bit of reviewing aside...this was a book worth reading.


A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

I've put off buying this book for about six months now. I pick it up,look at it, decide it's too cliche, and then put it down. I finally caved and bought the thing so I could get it over with. It's set in the quickly industrializing Victorian age$$. Gemma Doyle is sent to a finishing school in England after the brutal murder of her mother. The murder that she saw in a vision.

The fear of cliche-ness isn't as bad as I had feared, but you do have a group of girls sneaking out to do magic, a finishing school, and other things typical of almost cliched novels. I enjoyed it and plan on reading all three books in the trilogy, but if you can't stand overused plots then I would advise you to keep on browsing...I hate to condemn a book, but there it is. One of the main problems I have with it is how flat the Realms are. --Realms being the secret place they can access through the use of magic.-- You don't meet any interesting characters there that actually have feelings or visit any places that are going to stick out in your mind. Of course, this is a number one out three. The final verdict will be saved until the entire Trilogy has been read...

$This is with vague reference to a certain Nathaniel Hawthorne and The Scarlett Letter. I'm not a big Hawthorne fan and the fact that Pearl was used as a symbol of truth irks me to no end. She was a good thing to use for it to be sure, but she just as easily could have been used to add a little entertainment to it as well. Mayhap then I wouldn't have bored out of my mind reading it...

$$The Victorian Age. Just a random thought to share--Has anyone ever noticed the amount of weird and kinky things that went on with these people? All that sexual repression was probably starting to get to them...Lay back and think of England!

Feeling Some Paragraphs...

Okay, I've been trying for the past week to get my posts to actually hold paragraphs, but they refuse. Why is this?! If I put them in paragraphs and then click preview on the posty thing it shows my paragraphs, but then when I actually post it...Nada. This is really annoying. I don't like reading large uninteresting blocks of text. I can't stand to read my own blog due to my utter lack of computer-y skillz.

Thought about trying to fix it by much fiddling of settings etc, but the last time I did that it murdered my blog. New Plan: Wait it out. The computer doesn't have my human stubbornness...it'll fold eventually.

**edit**

Ah ha!! Fixed it.

Tamora Pierce likes to...rock?!

According to what seems to be a legitimate Tamora Pierce website ( It's rather terribly done in typical author fashion. XD), Ms. Pierce has a fondness for...Marilyn Manson. Yes, quite odd. I like Tamora Pierce. I like Marilyn Manson. Yet, I've never had the hankering to read a good ole fantasy book to the accompaniement of loud screamy music. --> I say again, " I DO like Marilyn Manson, but I realize that his music is loud and screamy. There's nothing wrong with a bit of loud and screamy."

To quote the page exactly:

As always, since I have gotten my iPod Podkayne, I have wondered far and wee over the world's musical scene. As a result, I have found some truly interesting things:

"Song"
"Tainted Love" as covered by Marilyn Manson (rock)
"Song"

Okay fine, it wasn't an exact quote. I just didn't want to take up an enormous amount of space listing what songs she found interesting. :D But everything else is correct.

So, one of my favorite authors meets one of my favorite musicians. ( Well, not meet exactly, but you know what I mean.) This is cool. Yet, for all of it's coolness I'm still having problems meshing 54 year old fantasy author with our favorite shock rocker. ( Note: Doesn't completely agree with shock rocker label) 'Til later then.