Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh, is my favorite book of all time.
I've loved it for so long now that I can barely remember a time when I didn't love it -- although that's crap, because I perfectly remember the summer when my cousins and I (who were all staying with our grandparents) were so psyched to see the first Nickelodeon movie.
(That's right. I found out about my favorite book of all time because Nickelodeon turned it into a movie.
Shut up, okay? I was eight. And I went to a church-school where I had a lot of "Jesus fiction" thrown at me. And the local librarians were not all that friendly. And I was painfully shy. And it had barely been a year since Dad died.
So I was somewhat sheltered.
Anyway, the movie is excellent even though the Robinsons aren't in it.)
Honestly, I don't remember precisely how old I was the first time I read the book. What I do remember is that, at 297 pages, it actually seemed long. (I was mostly reading Animorphs and The Hardy Boys, which tended to weigh in at a max of 150.) Since that first time, I have read it at least once a year.
When I was in third grade, I took the VHS to class and we all loved it. For a hot minute, everyone in Mrs. Judson's class had a composition book full of notes about each other. After a while, we were all forbidden to bring our notebooks to school unless we wrote nothing but nice things (this was a very wise decision on her part, since she had seen the movie) -- so I, the trendsetter, started leaving my notebook at home and racing to fill it at the end of every day. Not that I was full of not-nice things to say about my classmates, but I was determined to write the truth, since I had seen the movie.
I was twenty when I accidentally found out that the author, who died in 1974, was sort of well-known among the lesbian community of the day. Which, it being the seventies, was not a particularly well-known community.
It's not nearly my favorite of all time, but one movie I like rather a lot (somewhat in spite of myself) is Definitely, Maybe. A scene that stands out is the one where April explains why she loves Jane Eyre (which I have never read) so much, and that she rereads it every year because "every time it's different; it teaches me new things." For me, Harriet the Spy is exactly the same way.
Probably the most annoying thing about Depression is that, for longer than I'd care to admit, I stopped reading. Being a lifelong bookworm, this made me feel rather out of sorts. Once I did start to deal with things and feel like myself again, I was eager to get back into books. Naturally, this one was my first choice.
Okay. I'm not really sure what my point is. I had a dream about the book and the movie last night, but it wasn't very clear (my dream also included The Incredibles 2 -- which could have been called Violet to the Rescue! -- and Ponies and boys and boys with Ponies and guacamole and fingerless gloves).
I guess what I'm getting at is this one scene in the movie that's always resonated with me. It does not appear in the book, because in the book Ole Golly just sends Harriet a letter (at her parents' request; personally, I don't think Harriet put two and two together until years later), which . . . isn't all that interesting to watch . . . so, in the movie, she physically comes back for a visit and they have a chat and she says (note: this isn't quite verbatim),
"You're an individual, and that scares people."
Harriet, bless her, wants to know, "So what am I supposed to do?"
"You stay true to Harriet and accept the cost."
Ole Golly then admonishes that Harriet is eleven, so it's time for her to start writing something other than notes.
"Like what?"
"You'll think of something."
So . . . that was my point, I guess. Kind of.
Also, in case you missed it, I just stumbled upon the answer to every social quirk that's been getting on my nerves lately: I'm an individual, and that scares people.
"People" can suck it. I'm AWESOME.
Showing posts with label not about depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label not about depression. Show all posts
Monday, October 17, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
So I Read The Hunger Games
NOTE: This post is going to be 100% spoiler-free!
Alright.
I've been interested in this trilogy for a while, so I was pretty hyped when I got book one from the library. When I actually read it, though, I really only started out of boredom.
Several hours later, I finished it. (Seriously, it's that difficult to put down.)
I thought, Now I feel bored out of my mind again.
I thought, I should've got all three books from the library at the same time. Really could've planned that a little better.
The next day, I went to the library's website and requested books two and three. They each had about fifty requests ahead of mine, but I figured that maybe, just maybe, all of those people were tearing through them as quickly as I had torn through the first.
The day after that, neither list had gotten any smaller, and both books had been requested by at least four more people after me.
"Alright," I said, "this is why Amazon exists."
So I had the entire trilogy delivered to my mailbox for about $30.00.
Honestly, I'm still kind of in shock. It's been less than twenty-four hours since I finished the final book (which, like the first, I read cover to cover almost without stopping).
First off, I can't believe this series is marketed to children. I mean, okay, the main character is "only" sixteen years old, but the story is set in a post-apocalyptic world where twenty-four children -- twelve boys and twelve girls -- aged twelve to eighteen are selected at random to be thrown into an arena. Where they fight to the death. On TV. The goriest bits of the "Games" are mandatory viewing. Our hero volunteers -- not because she has any desire to be killed or any desire to kill, but to take the place of her younger sister, the one person in the whole world who she's sure that she loves.
In the arena, as I said, the kids kill each other. They snap each other's necks and throw spears into each other's stomachs and shoot each other with arrows.
Clearly, this is the sort of fare kids should be reading.
I don't know, though. I mean, I'm not saying NO kids anywhere should ever read any of the books -- I'm living proof of the fact that, when parents do forbid their kids to read a certain series, that just makes the kids want to read that certain series even more -- I'm just saying that they are aimed at middle-schoolers. The oldest of whom are two years younger than Katniss. Who is plagued by nightmares even before she enters the Games. Because Panem, which used to be North America, is a police state and things are THAT bad. (Note: Katniss is one of the most badass characters in the entire series, and she still has nightmares.)
I'm just saying, if you're thinking of giving the books to your son/daughter/grandson/granddaughter/niece/nephew/godchild for the holidays because you know for a fact that he or she likes books, you should REALLY do a little research before wrapping them (you might even want to read them yourself) and ask yourself if the kid in question can handle them.
(I was reminded a lot of Animorphs, actually -- which, interestingly, was also published by Scholastic -- although I have to say that The Hunger Games are even worse, since the war that the characters find themselves caught up in is not against aliens. It's chilling because it could actually happen.)
The names are quite fun. If you know a bit more about etymology and/or ancient Rome than I do, you'll no doubt be amused. For example, the Capitol slaves who can't talk because they've had their tongues ripped out? They're called "Avox."
There is a love triangle, because of course there's a love triangle (actually, now that I think of it, that might have something to do with why Scholastic chose to market the books as "children's" literature). Now, normally, love triangles piss me off by default -- my reaction is usually something along the lines of YOU STUPID BITCH YOU HAVE TWO HOT GUYS WHO ARE BOTH COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOU CAN'T JUST SHUT UP AND PICK ONE?! UGH I HOPE YOU GET EATEN BY PANTHERS OR SOMETHING -- but this one was actually very intriguing. Also, it was resolved the way I hoped it would be.
Even though Josh Hutcherson (swoon) is playing Peeta, I'm not sure if I'll be seeing the movie. I mean, I'm sure it'll be amazing, but . . . the books really are so violent -- the second is worse than the first, and the third is worse than the second -- that there's no way the movie can possibly get any rating lighter than PG-13 purely for violence and disturbing images (and possibly even gore). Which, you know, is good because it means they're staying true to the source material, but my point is that, while I enjoyed the story and wanted to see it through to the end, I was simultaneously seriously disturbed (see above, re: children killing each other on national TV). And that was bad enough to read about, you know? I'm quite a fan of action and violence and girls with axes and all that, but . . . humans killing other humans? Yeah, that tends to make me a bit squeamish.
That said, I haven't been reading any interviews in-depth or anything, but even from the little that I have absorbed, it sounds like everyone involved in the movie is going to be amazing. Particularly Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss.
I won't go into too much detail because it's painful for me to talk about, but the books are set in a world where most people are starving and it's not uncommon to grow up and live and die without ever having enough food. So I kind of felt guilty about going to the grocery store.
There was one more point I wanted to make, but it escapes me now. Maybe it'll come to me in the middle of the night.
Alright.
I've been interested in this trilogy for a while, so I was pretty hyped when I got book one from the library. When I actually read it, though, I really only started out of boredom.
Several hours later, I finished it. (Seriously, it's that difficult to put down.)
I thought, Now I feel bored out of my mind again.
I thought, I should've got all three books from the library at the same time. Really could've planned that a little better.
The next day, I went to the library's website and requested books two and three. They each had about fifty requests ahead of mine, but I figured that maybe, just maybe, all of those people were tearing through them as quickly as I had torn through the first.
The day after that, neither list had gotten any smaller, and both books had been requested by at least four more people after me.
"Alright," I said, "this is why Amazon exists."
So I had the entire trilogy delivered to my mailbox for about $30.00.
Honestly, I'm still kind of in shock. It's been less than twenty-four hours since I finished the final book (which, like the first, I read cover to cover almost without stopping).
First off, I can't believe this series is marketed to children. I mean, okay, the main character is "only" sixteen years old, but the story is set in a post-apocalyptic world where twenty-four children -- twelve boys and twelve girls -- aged twelve to eighteen are selected at random to be thrown into an arena. Where they fight to the death. On TV. The goriest bits of the "Games" are mandatory viewing. Our hero volunteers -- not because she has any desire to be killed or any desire to kill, but to take the place of her younger sister, the one person in the whole world who she's sure that she loves.
In the arena, as I said, the kids kill each other. They snap each other's necks and throw spears into each other's stomachs and shoot each other with arrows.
Clearly, this is the sort of fare kids should be reading.
I don't know, though. I mean, I'm not saying NO kids anywhere should ever read any of the books -- I'm living proof of the fact that, when parents do forbid their kids to read a certain series, that just makes the kids want to read that certain series even more -- I'm just saying that they are aimed at middle-schoolers. The oldest of whom are two years younger than Katniss. Who is plagued by nightmares even before she enters the Games. Because Panem, which used to be North America, is a police state and things are THAT bad. (Note: Katniss is one of the most badass characters in the entire series, and she still has nightmares.)
I'm just saying, if you're thinking of giving the books to your son/daughter/grandson/granddaughter/niece/nephew/godchild for the holidays because you know for a fact that he or she likes books, you should REALLY do a little research before wrapping them (you might even want to read them yourself) and ask yourself if the kid in question can handle them.
(I was reminded a lot of Animorphs, actually -- which, interestingly, was also published by Scholastic -- although I have to say that The Hunger Games are even worse, since the war that the characters find themselves caught up in is not against aliens. It's chilling because it could actually happen.)
The names are quite fun. If you know a bit more about etymology and/or ancient Rome than I do, you'll no doubt be amused. For example, the Capitol slaves who can't talk because they've had their tongues ripped out? They're called "Avox."
There is a love triangle, because of course there's a love triangle (actually, now that I think of it, that might have something to do with why Scholastic chose to market the books as "children's" literature). Now, normally, love triangles piss me off by default -- my reaction is usually something along the lines of YOU STUPID BITCH YOU HAVE TWO HOT GUYS WHO ARE BOTH COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND YOU CAN'T JUST SHUT UP AND PICK ONE?! UGH I HOPE YOU GET EATEN BY PANTHERS OR SOMETHING -- but this one was actually very intriguing. Also, it was resolved the way I hoped it would be.
Even though Josh Hutcherson (swoon) is playing Peeta, I'm not sure if I'll be seeing the movie. I mean, I'm sure it'll be amazing, but . . . the books really are so violent -- the second is worse than the first, and the third is worse than the second -- that there's no way the movie can possibly get any rating lighter than PG-13 purely for violence and disturbing images (and possibly even gore). Which, you know, is good because it means they're staying true to the source material, but my point is that, while I enjoyed the story and wanted to see it through to the end, I was simultaneously seriously disturbed (see above, re: children killing each other on national TV). And that was bad enough to read about, you know? I'm quite a fan of action and violence and girls with axes and all that, but . . . humans killing other humans? Yeah, that tends to make me a bit squeamish.
That said, I haven't been reading any interviews in-depth or anything, but even from the little that I have absorbed, it sounds like everyone involved in the movie is going to be amazing. Particularly Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss.
I won't go into too much detail because it's painful for me to talk about, but the books are set in a world where most people are starving and it's not uncommon to grow up and live and die without ever having enough food. So I kind of felt guilty about going to the grocery store.
There was one more point I wanted to make, but it escapes me now. Maybe it'll come to me in the middle of the night.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
"A Friend is Someone Who Knows Your Secrets and Loves You Anyway"
So I finally wrote Jeremy another letter (it's only been a little more than a week since the last time, but trust me - it felt longer).
I feel better than I've felt since Friday.
I feel better than I've felt since Friday.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Think of Something Profound and Pretend I Said It
I've been sitting here for half an hour trying to figure out where to start.
So far, I still haven't come up with anything brilliant.
There are two things going on this weekend -- one of them is more or less the best thing that ever could've happened right now, the other is . . . not.
Obviously, I'm not going to tell you anything about the first thing except that it's still sort of up in the air and I really hope it does happen and that's why I'm not going to tell you anything else about it. (Wow, that was possibly the most redundant thing I've ever said. You know, because I've never said anything else that was so redundant before saying that thing. Sorry.)
The second thing is a funeral.
We didn't know each other well at all, but she's been more of a mom to me than my actual mom since early 2010. Comedy was the reason we met, and she never thought I'd have even the slightest bit of trouble taking it as far as I wanted to. She told me on more than one occasion that I was her favorite comic and she couldn't wait to watch me on TV someday. That wasn't a sure thing, obviously -- did I ever really want to pursue comedy as a way to make a living?* -- but now she never will.
It was cancer, if you're wondering. She had been battling it for months. She lost.
I can't believe she's dead. Logically, of course, that's total bullshit -- she had been battling cancer for months; if anything, I should be saying I can't believe she lasted as long as she did -- but logic can blow me. I always figured it was a given that she would kick its ass in the end. Her body was failing, but her spirit was unbreakable. You know?
I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the funeral (even though I'm going with a friend who was even closer to her than me). I've always hated them, and this one packs more of a punch than any I've been to since Dad's.** That being said, I feel like I'm going to make it through okay. Well, okay-ish. I'm still doing an exemplary job of taking care of myself emotionally, and I have plenty of distractions to take my mind off of it.
So, yeah. It sucks, and I really wish it hadn't happened, but I'll make it through.
Just in case, though, I'm going to have just a bit of alcohol.
As usual, I'm reminded of a Buffy quote. For a bit of a change, this one's from Anya, and it's not funny at all:
"But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's . . . there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch . . . ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why."
*Still not sure about that one, but I have been itching to get onstage again sometime soon. We'll see if that happens. No, actually, not IF. When.
**Both of my mom's parents died when I was in high school, but they had pretty much been on their way since before I started kindergarten.
So far, I still haven't come up with anything brilliant.
There are two things going on this weekend -- one of them is more or less the best thing that ever could've happened right now, the other is . . . not.
Obviously, I'm not going to tell you anything about the first thing except that it's still sort of up in the air and I really hope it does happen and that's why I'm not going to tell you anything else about it. (Wow, that was possibly the most redundant thing I've ever said. You know, because I've never said anything else that was so redundant before saying that thing. Sorry.)
The second thing is a funeral.
We didn't know each other well at all, but she's been more of a mom to me than my actual mom since early 2010. Comedy was the reason we met, and she never thought I'd have even the slightest bit of trouble taking it as far as I wanted to. She told me on more than one occasion that I was her favorite comic and she couldn't wait to watch me on TV someday. That wasn't a sure thing, obviously -- did I ever really want to pursue comedy as a way to make a living?* -- but now she never will.
It was cancer, if you're wondering. She had been battling it for months. She lost.
I can't believe she's dead. Logically, of course, that's total bullshit -- she had been battling cancer for months; if anything, I should be saying I can't believe she lasted as long as she did -- but logic can blow me. I always figured it was a given that she would kick its ass in the end. Her body was failing, but her spirit was unbreakable. You know?
I have no idea how I'm going to make it through the funeral (even though I'm going with a friend who was even closer to her than me). I've always hated them, and this one packs more of a punch than any I've been to since Dad's.** That being said, I feel like I'm going to make it through okay. Well, okay-ish. I'm still doing an exemplary job of taking care of myself emotionally, and I have plenty of distractions to take my mind off of it.
So, yeah. It sucks, and I really wish it hadn't happened, but I'll make it through.
Just in case, though, I'm going to have just a bit of alcohol.
As usual, I'm reminded of a Buffy quote. For a bit of a change, this one's from Anya, and it's not funny at all:
"But I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's . . . there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And, and Xander's crying and not talking, and, and I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch . . . ever, and she'll never have eggs, or yawn, or brush her hair, not ever, and no one will explain to me why."
*Still not sure about that one, but I have been itching to get onstage again sometime soon. We'll see if that happens. No, actually, not IF. When.
**Both of my mom's parents died when I was in high school, but they had pretty much been on their way since before I started kindergarten.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Some of My Favorite Pictures from Last Year: Books & Buildings
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| My favorite book of all time: Harriet the Spy. |
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