I'm thinking...

Isn't it funny how things can change over the course of a year? Everything changes. It changes as a year passes, as a month goes by, as each day turns into the next. We change- but never entirely. We grow from the single building block we were to begin with to a castle of blocks. Parts of that castle are knocked over, our clumsy hands have knocked down what we were trying to form, but the blocks are lying on the ground waiting to be picked up and placed back into position. Each event, each memory, each success and each mistake, meshing together, forming our castle. There's the story Mom and Dad told me of how I sobbed when I first watched Hercules at age three, saying "He shouldn't leave his Mommy and Daddy." Time passes and I'm ten, waiting for my parents to return from a weekend trip, knowing that my grandparents are worried because I've been sulky all day long. "I just want to go home. I just want my parents home." I mummer grumpily to a pillow. Time goes by yet again and I've just turned thirteen. I'm laying in a bunk bed at a summer camp repeating over and over again to myself "I don't want to be here. I'm calling Dad and Mom in the morning. I'm not staying here. I don't like it." Then all of a sudden I'm sixteen and on a bus traveling through Europe. I glance out a window and let myself sniffle a bit. I miss home and my family, but as I look out the window I know I wouldn't go home that instant if I could. I would still wait till my trip was ended, even though it hurt. Then I'm seventeen, kneeling in a little chapel on a college campus, thinking this is where I want to be. I want to go here. Isn't it funny how people change? Funny, and beautiful.

I'm reading...

Rapunzel Let Down by Regina Doman. Wow. I don't quite know what to say. Everything feels real in this book. It breaks your heart. The world seems very dark and everything has gone black. There is so much very real pain. It hurts. Really, really hurts. Then you are filled with peace and there's beauty coming out of the darkness. The whole theme of this book is how God can take something bad, something ugly, and through His grace, something beautiful is brought about. It's very- real. That's all I can say. Her other books are books that I read over and over again because I love them. They make me happy whenever I read them and go to them when I'm looking for an old favorite. Rapunzel Let Down isn't like that. It isn't the sort of book you would read again and again because you enjoy it, but it is the sort of book that will last in your mind. Something to think about, to ponder. It's because part of it hurts so much that what follows is so beautiful and makes you feel so peaceful. It goes back to how without suffering we wouldn't understand what joy is, without dark we wouldn't understand light, but that doesn't make you stop wishing that it hadn't happened. If only they had chosen differently, if only sin didn't exist. Because their lives were destroyed before something beautiful came from the destruction, and it doesn't have to be that way. It shouldn't be. I'm probably putting this badly and I haven't quite finished it so I haven't yet finished sorting out my thoughts, but...I just, wow.

Outside my window...

Everything is looking very, very green. Green grass. Brilliant green leaves. Darker Green trees. Green bushes. Green.

I'm listening to...

the Loreena McKennett station on Pandora. I love this music because so much of it is old poetry that's been put into song. I love listening to the words of this music.

I'm creating...

I started knitting again at the last rehearsal of Much Ado About Nothing (did I mention I'm taking part in a play?) and I want to keep going with my red slouchy hat again. I always forget when I'm not knitting how much I enjoy knitting. Though, I'm not watching murder mysteries while knitting late at night again. I don't think I've quite recovered from last time I was silly enough to do that. Miss Marple, indeed.

Also, on a creative note, I thought it would be fun to try and make one of those video book reviews. I always write them, and it would be sort of fun to try making them in video form for once. At least to try it out.

A picture thought I'm sharing...

This is one of the pictures of the tulip fields that Mom took yesterday. Look at the gorgeous tulips!

In the Name of the Star

By Maureen Johnson

2/5

(Aaaand I feel like I'm going to be negative for my first of the book reviews. Sowwy. Last book I read)

When I began this book I literally had no idea what it was about. It was one of three books that were placed in my hand by someone at work about a week ago. I don't think I had even heard the name before that moment.

Basically the story is about a seventeen year old named Rory. She is going to London to attend school for a year. London is in a panic because there's a bunch of murders taking place- murders that seem to be mimicking the murders of Jack the Ripper.

Basically, gruesome is a good word.

Very, very gruesome.

(Can I just take a moment to say I am very confused by the cover after having read it? First of all I really have no idea who the girl is supposed to be. The main character does not have red hair and never does she curl up in a ball on the ground. I mean. Wut. There is a girl mentioned in a newspaper who is said to have red hair but she is mentioned only once during the entire story? Why would the cover picture depict her? Secondly, the shadowy figure in the background is clearly dressed in regency garb and I can only assume it is supposed to be the original Jack the Ripper but as he is not the real villain of this story I am again brought to...why? I don't know, the cover just doesn't make sense to me.)

SPOILERS BELOW.

So I guess it should have been obvious to me from the beginning that this was a ghost story. Actually, it sort of was, but I kept hoping I would be proved wrong and it was all some mastermind plan created by man. You know, non-dead man.

I guess this is a personal preference and I just really don't like ghosts in stories. I find them very unbelievable and I'm not sure why. I'm not usually that person who complains about believability. For the most part I'll swallow anything. You could tell me that the main character jumped from a flaming building, turned part cyborg, had an obsession with unicorns and ate only celery and I would nod my head happily and go along with it. So I'm not sure why it is that as soon as a ghost is mentioned I roll my eyes and sigh. It doesn't bother me much as long as they're nonessential to the storyline, but if they're heavily involved in the plot of the thing I find it all rather a bore. I guess that this is because I feel like it's a bit of an easy way out. "Oh so all these murders are happening but nobody can see the murderer in any of the security cameras? SURPRISE WE HAVE A GHOST."

My other problem with this story was that we don't find out for sure that this is a ghost story until half way (?) through the book. I think this was intentionally done but for me this added to the unbelievability. For half of the story we see a normal girl going to a normal (ish) school and everything is normal (we have some questions in our minds as to the weird kid who sits in the dark, sure, but questions are what keep our interest) and then the entire story turns around at the half way point and we have a ghost story.

This brings me to the part of this book I like the most; the relationships between all the characters. (Which is funny because I honestly didn't feel all that attached to any one of them individually) However, I found it very interesting thinking about how Rory's viewpoint changes over the course of the story. Everything changes for her. At the beginning she forms all these normal friendships, with Jazza and Jerome, but after seeing ghosts she just can't go back to these normal friendships she had. What I liked about this was the parallel I found myself drawing with this fantasy situation and a real life one. Rory's friendships at the beginning were the friendships of a child and you could compare the changes that affect her once she starts seeing ghosts with the changes of a child that is forced to quickly grow to an adult. Watching her try to slip back into her friendships with Jazza and Jerome were like watching an adult trying to pick up a friendship with someone who hasn't grown up yet, who is still a child. I found that an interesting thought. Sad, but interesting.

In the end I don't think I would read this book again, and unless I was really desperate I don't think I would be searching out the sequels. My overall reaction was "Eh."

In it's favor I did read it all the way through, but I felt like I was forcing myself at times.

I'm thinking...

I really want to start blogging on a regular basis again. Not just journaling pages, but real blog posts. Especially book reviews. I frequently say I'm going to start posting book reviews- but then I read so many books that I get overwhelmed and don't know what to say. This time I'm really going to start writing them. I am. I love reading other peoples book reviews and they always make me want to post some myself. They will be book reviews with plenty of spoilers however, so be warned. (I shall put a spoiler warning at the top of each post). My favorite book blog is Sarah's and I really like her method of rating books (See: http://thearomaofbooks.wordpress.com/about/ratings-method-of-fictional-work/)

I also made a new GoodReads account: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/12739408-emily so if you have one do do find me because it's much funner if you know plenty of people.

Outside my window...

Looking outside today makes me long for summer. Of course, I don't exactly want to skip spring, but I'm so looking forward to long sunny days, curled up in a patch of sunlight reading. Yes, this is the way I think about summer. I think about reading in a warm patch of sunlight.

One of my favorite things...

This video is pretty much my favorite thing on the Internet right now. Yep. Pretty much.

I'm reading...

Divergent by Veronica Roth. *emits inhuman squealing noises* I don't know how else to put it but keyboard smashing AIUGHDGKHAGKH. (The Internet has taken it's toll on yours truly.)

I'm wearing...

Jeans and a grey dress over top. Undignified, yes. Comfy, also yes. Besides this dress is too short to wear without pants, but it's too comfy to throw away. I wear it only at home days. Now you know my secrets. Guard them well.

A few plans for the rest of the week...

I shall write my first book review this week. There it is, written in black and white. No backing down now. Not even if procrastination and laziness swallow my soul and I whither up beneath their evil claws. Wow, that sentence went melodramatic, and I'm not even going to backspace. What is the world coming to?

Also, schoolwork.

Also, reading.

Also, writing. I'M A NOVEL WRITER (...I cry pathetically as unwritten words wrap around me and crush me to the floor) I SHALL NOT BE DEFEATED.

Obviously, I'm in a melodramatic mood.

A Quote I'm sharing...

My birthday is coming up this week, and that made me think of this quote. I remember stumbling on it a little while ago and loving it. I've never read the story it's from, but I like the quote so much that I am definitely planning on it. I believe it's from a short story called Eleven by Sandra Cisneros. Beyond that I really don't know much about the story, but it's a lovely quote. Bear with me since it's a little longer than quotes I would normally post. It's the perfect quote for the week of a birthday.

"What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like you’re still ten. And you are — underneath the year that makes you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.

Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is."