Frankenstein: Conclusion Edition

     Welcome to the conclusion edition of the novel Frankenstein! Here, we will post several thoughts about the novel that the author of this blog, Nate, had felt! Free of spoilers or other issues. Stay tuned for more info!
     (A small intermission plays, in which a pseudo-realistic man covers himself in green paint and announces: "Hey everyone! Tired of your own creations trying to destroy your life? Get my patented product, Victor's Vicious Monster Miasma! Guaranteed to remove any pesky problems you may be having in your lively life! And don't forget to use as many awesome alliterations as possible! V-Frank out).
     Okay, hey everyone. I wanted to sorta write my thoughts on Frankenstein, so I'll try to be frank. I am tired, after all, and I have several tasks I need to do in order to be ready for my finals this week. Here goes.
     The book was a lot better than I had originally expected. If you had not read my previous post that described how I was not too excited to read this book, then you would have a good understanding of how I felt starting to read it. 
     Luckily, most of the book didn't go through the annoying letters process, and it was only the beginning of the book. I think the main reason I disliked that format is because of the stop-and-go process that it makes my mind squeeze through. Not the easiest thing to stay focused on when suddenly you are having a three month time shift. That may be the other problem too. I like books to be linear, so when suddenly a chapter jumps around several months I feel like something important is missing and my mind strives to want to fill that gap. Either way, the book didn't end up like this.
     It really nicely explored the themes it presented as well. To name a few off, there was the theme of what it means to be human, and what defines being human; there was the theme of how science can go too far, tying in a sort of man vs. nature theme; and finally there is the value of friendship and family (a subject I will likely write about next week). Each one was distinctly explained and shown in the novel, although my favorite is the one about what it means to be human. Throughout the novel, you are presented with the idea that the beast is a monster; an un-human freak of nature which wishes to destroy villages and eat people's raw flesh. Even the media represents him that way.
     For many of us, we have seen a Frankenstein movie before we actually read the book. Whether it was Young Frankenstein or Frankenstein or even The Bride of Frankenstein. Each one sadly portrays the creature as this inherently evil demon. When you read the novel though, you do have to ask yourself...

Who is the real monster? Frankenstein? Or the creature?

     This question arises from a variety of topics. Mainly, the fact that the creature did not intend to try and be harmful and filled with hate. He wanted to be a functioning part of society. He wanted to have friends, to have a family, to be knowledgeable, and to be loved. Yet, every time it got close to these dreams, they were dashed by the fear of his unsightly, hulking body and gross appearances. The main perpetrator behind the creature's failures though was his creator. Many times in the fiction, the creature wishes he was not created to be so hideous, and blames Frankenstein for his disfigurement. When he asks simply for a companion to live the rest of his miserable life with, Frankenstein betrays the creature and rebukes his promise.
     Frankenstein's argument was that it was bettering mankind. That two creatures procreating and releasing their wretched spawn across the world would bring an end to it. Yet it was out of what seemed fearful visions that Frankenstein believed this. Had he originally kept his promise, I think I can safely assume that the creature would have held true to his promise, and left forever. Victor would have ended up with a lot more friends and family if this was the way it had gone.
     So was the creature, with his thirst to simply be human, actually a monster? And could this have possibly been an allusion to the situation which Shelley grew up in?
     I learned progressively more and more about Shelley's character while reading this book. It can't be ignored that Shelley was raised in a household the regarded feminism in high esteem. Her mother was even one of the first wave feminists. The monster might possibly be a reference to the women who were oppressed in society at the time Shelley had lived. With a thirst for love, knowledge, and acceptance in society, they were constantly shut down. I could probably write an entire blog post proving this, with evidence. But I'd rather not.
     So that's what I leave you with tonight. Good luck everyone this week with finals. May the patron god Bullshidicus and his muses Caffeina and Thesaurae be with you all this week to provide you with assistance.

Hobey ho, 
-- Nate


(Word count: 873 words)

I Find It Kind of Sad.

     Welcome back.
     Shall we continue?
     Lets begin with a small intermission.
     It perhaps wasn't the most smart idea to have written this as a two-part post. At the moment when I had been writing the first entry, my brain had been on a single track; I felt exotic, I felt weird, I felt like I had been nothing more than a mass of meat and matter floating on a lump of damp space rock as it zooms through the infinite universe. I feel a little different now, and I am having trouble relating my tale in the same manner I had related it earlier. In fact, I hardly even remember what I was going to write today. Nonetheless, I will force my hand to make an attempt, for better or for worse.
     Where were we?
     What do we truly know? What is straight hard evidence? And what is nothing more than a figment of imaginative thought, springing from the complex connections of circuits, wires, and electricity which constantly rushes through our heads? As I pointed out in my story earlier, I am unaware of what the truth is anymore. I want to believe that it happened the way I tell it everyday, and that might be the only thing keeping me sane. It might be the only thing keeping any of us sane.
      In English we discussed a very thought-provoking concept. What if we all see different colors? What if for you, you saw the sunsets in beautiful shades of blue and purple? What if the trees all had ghostly white bark with blood red leaves? What if you saw black as white, and white as black? Would anyone know? Since birth, we were directed at colors and told what they were. We took it for granted and accepted it for our entire lives, but if we weren't would we know any different? There is no way to tell if the lives of others are radically alien. No way to understand the way that you perceive color, thoughts, sensation, or other perceptual senses. That's one thing that begins to scare me.
      Because the only thing that I, or any of you know for certain is that we are alive. Our pasts, which include the infinite amounts of knowledge and memories we have experienced, are nothing more than memories. There is little to no physical proof that they technically every happened.
     In a way I believe this a form of quantum physics. We don't perceive the past anymore, therefore it doesn't exist. We may have trinkets that remind us of the past, but no actual proof per-se. Sure, the stuffed animal you have sitting on the shelf is a constant reminder that you had a childhood, but how do you know that for sure? Depend on a somewhat unreliable memory?
     In the end, that's really all we can do. We have to believe that our memories are true with all the imperfections and discontinuity. Throughout generations, memories are passed down to retain traditions. Memories create everything that exists today, so that poses my last question...
     If everything is created in one form or another by memories, what good is society.
     The answer is, it isn't. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. In a perfect world, everyone would be perfect--and when everyone is perfect, no one is. The fact that we have inconsistent memories and that we all may share memories or have those that stay secret forever is what makes us unique.
     It's what makes human.


I find it kind of funny,
I find it kind of sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had.
-- Mad World, Tears for Fears

(Author's Note: The Gary Jules version from Donnie Darko is a much better version of this song, but I do want to credit the original artist.)


(Word count: 647 words)

I Find It Kinda Funny,

     This weekend was kind of weird for me. I'll try to be brief.

     I found out that the world is a small, weird place. You don't truly know anyone, but you know everyone, if that makes sense.

     I've felt pretty odd every since the weekend. For whatever stupid reason it is, it's put me in a mood where I am not sure about anything anymore, except what is happening right now.

     I'll try to explain.

     So we all have that story that we tell everyone about from our childhood; we stuck our tongue to a flagpole and it got stuck, forcing our teacher to call the fire department to get it removed. Or maybe you were just a tiny little eight year old bundle of romance and you got your first kiss under the willow tree with some girl who ended up moving away forever.

     Think about that story, try to remember ever detail. Every. Single. Detail. Do you have it? Now try to figure out which details are wrong. The ones you put in there yourself to make the story more appealing, whether it made your story more humorous, heroic, or hectic. Over the years, your story has come to be somewhat of a half-lie, and a half-truth.

     For me, my story takes place in fifth grade. I'm not going to go into detail, but at this point, reflecting on it, I'm not sure if it actually ever happened. Maybe it did, but it was way less dramatic than I make it seem to be. Maybe it was close. Maybe I tell the story the way it happened. I've told it so many times, adding so many half-lies into the story that I don't know what the truth about it was anymore. In my memory, I even see it occurring to me in the third person.

     In case you don't know this about me, I dream in the third person. That may be a confusing way to describe it, so I'll clarify; I dream as if I'm in a movie. When I dream, I see myself doing actions, with other people doing things unto me, or the world happening around me. I am aware of my thoughts, and what I am going to say. I can sometimes affect the outcome of the "story". I am perfectly aware of my surroundings and where I am. But my view from the dream is limited to a camera. My view is watching at a difference, experience and feeling my character, but not quite being there in his eyes. I'm not certain this is the way I dream at all though, but as I wake up and recall my dreams; I recall them in the third person.

     Back to the story at hand.

     This memory is in the third person. It makes me speculate whether or not it actually happened. I have no physical proof that it did, besides my memory, but even that is sketchy. If I can convince myself that it did happen, even if it didn't, what is the point?

     Then I look back at all my memories, and nothing seems real. Did I really walk home today? What was my proof? Did I go to Six Flags earlier this year? Have I already gone to Pasadena? The mind is so fragile, and so easy to lie to. It's hard to tell the differences between thoughts and truth.

     For example, one time I dreamt that a friend of mine had come up and told me that he was going on a vacation for the next week. When I went to school after the weekend had ended, I asked him why he wasn't gone for vacation. The dream had felt so real that I couldn't tell the difference between if he actually said that or not.
     Even worse, if I ever happen to take a nap, I get so disorientated that I am often in a state of confusion for the rest of my night. The dreams I have during this time are so exotic and real; they tend to frighten me.

     So where do my true thoughts actually lie? At what point is my brain storing my dreams and my experiences and merging them together in one? Archiving my negatives away in old video banks, to be accessed when they need to be? Why are these negatives decaying and suddenly changing?

to be continued...

(Word count: 738 words)

Doing That College Thing (Otherwise Known as Scholarships)

     Well, I've been doin' that college thang. We were given an assignment in my English class to write for a scholarship a 300 word essay about our career and education plans, as well as how our current situation, including our skills, personality, and experiences, applies to that.

     I've almost done that.

     I have spent the last... Hour and a half trying to write this stupid thing. My first draft --which was a wonderful metaphor that weaved my voice in and out of my essay, informing in an alluring manner what my passion was, which would definitely have been a Grade-A essay-- ended up being somewhere closer to 400 words. That just won't do.

     So I cut out the flowery metaphor. My paper was a lot more... boring, but it was also shorter.
     Final result? A 303 word essay. At this point I really just want to be done with it, but I am three words off from completion. Right now I really can't figure out what I want to get rid of. Since this was the "first draft" of this essay (in the most basic sense of the phrase), I think I'll be able to let it slide.

     Now I just have to get it to my teacher and talk to him about what I need to do to fix up my three-word dilemna. I'll have him look at it, maybe find a few words, and maybe find a way to make it even better. Because free money.

     Anyways, here's what my essay looks like...

            Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? Not many can say that they want to tackle the challenge of interacting daily with students, parents, or teachers, or to scale the mountain of massive workload that is often thrust upon them, or more importantly, to teach a future generation of students and shape a better world. One of my career plans that took shape and was sculpted into a beautiful possibility during my high school experience was the dream of being a teacher. It isn’t just the thought of wanting to be a teacher that made this goal a possibility though; it was the combination of my personality, my strengths and weaknesses, and the occurrences I have embraced that creates this possibility.
             Teaching is a career in which I can use the confidence and social skills I have, and apply them to a real world situation where I can change lives. What other careers require you to undertake the role of cooperating with thousands of people, all while maintaining a positive demeanor? Yet my personality is only a single link that chains together success in this career. I also have a passion.
            This passion is of literature and English. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been a book-worm. Throughout my teen years, I consumed books more often than I did food. I was once told that it takes passion to be successful at anything. A passion for this subject is just what I need to be inspired to pursue it.
            Finally, the events and occurrences that have surrounded me throughout my life; the teachers and heroes who inspire me to do better, stand out as the most important aspect to this career. I felt inspired, because the same traits I see in myself are so prevalent in the teachers who have already made the decision to shape the future, by shaping young minds to be smart, creative, and thoughtful.
            So do I have what it takes to be a teacher? I have the passion, the knowledge, the personality, and the experiences. All that is left is for me to take the leap to shape my future, as well as the worlds.

     Well that's all I got for you guys today. Enjoy your nights and good luck with all your toils and foils.

Hobey ho,

 -- Nate

(Word Count: 649 words)

Procrastination 101

     So I'm sure we're all amazing high school students, who turn on their work on time and ensure ourselves an amazing future. No? Perhaps you forget to turn something in every once in a while. Perhaps that new popular app is begging to be played. Perhaps there is a million other reasons that we aren't doing something. I believe we all have the potential to be that "amazing high school student."
     I know what is stopping me though...
     Procrastination.
     I'm sure many of us battle this... thing. We see the overwhelming Work Monster (probably looks something like this) and suddenly we're a little moist at the waist and are running towards the nearest exit. From that exit, we find the bliss of procrastination...! Suddenly even the most boring task sounds fun and we tell ourselves that we will have time to finish. Usually we don't. I'll spend six hours watching a new Netflix interest, or playing some of those new games I find online, or making food to make myself not hungry even though I never really was. Sometimes, I even clean the house.
     It's these demons that are the toughest to kill. Today, while telling myself I was gonna get on homework, I went and browsed through my Tumblr and Facebook feed. I've got a sticky note on my right that is telling me all the important work I need to get done today. Ha. Hahaha. So whilst browsing through this feed, one of my friends shared an article about Procrastination.
     "Hey! This will be a good thing to read rather than reading Frankenstein! Lets do that!" I told myself. I assume you can understand the irony of this situation. So I read it, and it was actually pretty cool (if you're interested, you can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here). That post is actually the inspiration I had to writing this blog post today. It explained procrastination in a way that really helped rationalize the situation; it explained ways to combat it. The post was light-hearted but serious, so I felt as if the writer had a clear understanding on the subject (and spent some time thinking about it, rather than just throwing thoughts out there as I usually do in my blog posts).
     Well, I don't have much else to share with you guys today. I wanted to share this post, and that it could possibly bring you a beacon of hope that you can get over it. I'm overwhelmed and worried about my own problems, and that it will cause many more issues in college. So I'm gonna try to tackle it, one step at a time.

Hobey ho,
-- Nate


(Word count: 451 words)

Ugh... Frankenstein.

     Lets just start this off with... I hate "journal" type books. I can't stand them. Maybe it's just cause I am so used to the action packed straight-to-the-point sort of books, or what ever other reasons there may be, but I can't stand these types of books.
     For our AP Literature class, we are reading Frankenstein. When we were told it was an epistolary, I gave a reluctant sigh and claimed that I was gonna dislike this book. I already do. Our teacher tried to convince me that I would like this book (mostly by telling me I was wrong), but I knew I was gonna hate it anyways.
     Those of you who have been on my blog since Day 1 may have seen my post about Jules Verne's novel 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. This book is written in the same way that Frankenstein supposedly is, and I suffered through trying to read it. Here's a quick recap of that review though. I somewhat liked the book, although it was dry the entire time except for a few good moments that the action picked up. Besides that, it felt like a scientific review of the various plants and animals that existed in the ocean written in a log of observation. It makes sense, seeing how Arronax is literally an aquatic scientist on a mysterious new submarine; who wouldn't record everything they see in that situation? Still, I disliked the book.
     Moving on, I read the first... Fifty or so pages of Frankenstein today. It managed to somewhat hold my interest throughout thus far, but I will not lie, I glazed over a few parts. It's so hard to keep focused when all the book is describing is some second-hand story recorded in a letter to this guy's sister about how a Russian woman and some other guy fell in love but it didn't work out. Snore.
     Once the book got out of the "letters" portion (which was the first four "chapters" of the book) it got somewhat interesting. Only somewhat. Thus far, we are only seeing Frankenstein reminisce about his childhood, but Shelley is also revealing how the good Doctor became interested in the science of creating life. An older friend told me this weekend that the book does get better, it's just slow in the beginning. So here's to hoping that they're right. Otherwise I feel like I am just gonna slowly drag on through this book and suffer the entire time.
     So far, I really want to know the relevance of the first few letters in the book. Who was the man that was travelling around? Striving to explore the great unknowns of the northern pole? Is this just a random sub-plot? Or will it tie in eventually? At this point in the book, I don't know yet. Guess we'll find out, right?

Hobey ho,
-- Nate


(Word Count: 485 words)

Well Shoot, You're Friggin' Hilarious.

     Well today I was the butt end of a very cruel joke. Felt like sharing this with you all tonight.
     Some students at my school thought it would be the cat's meow to go and give my number to my history teacher, who would then proceed to tell me that all my homework due Friday would now be due Thursday because I was going to be absent on Friday.
     I'll give you some background real quick. The college here is doing a huge day-long tour of the campus. You can talk with the students, see what the campus is like, check out the housing, and get info in areas where you are most interested in majoring. This college is the most real possibility for me at the moment; my friends are all going, it's extremely affordable, the campus is nice. A whole shebacle of useful things. I really wanted to go the campus at the end of the week to seal the deal and know for sure if this is where I wanted to go. But is it really worth missing school for? Not really. Is it necessary? Yes.
     Back to the story. So I was told at 6:30pm that my homework is due tomorrow (Thursday) rather than Friday or whenever I get back. Well that's just fudgemuffin wonderful. So I spend the next hour working on some pretty boring questions that I have to do, and messaging the rest of the people in my group about helping me out so I don't fail this class (I already have a low B, I do not need another C).
     Well someone on facebook immediately fessed up to what happened and let me know. At this point, I was pretty furious. I'd already gotten half the work done and now I am being told that I had wasted my time. I worked a little more, waiting for a response from the other person who I was told was also involved in this. That took another hour.
     When this other person finally got back to me, she acted innocent, like nothing happened. She advised me to not do my homework, which was already mostly done, and that something strange was happening.
     How about you tell me something I don't know.
     So I went along with it, wanting to see how long they were gonna try to play this game. At this point, I was frustrated beyond belief. I had wasted half my night and most of my free time freaking out about this stupid homework, while also looking forward to the large stack of homework I had despite this stupid Government stuff. A pile of English reading, a blog post (oh look how nifty), and the ever increasing pile of work I have to do for Journalism. I went out and I took a nice thirty minute run to wherever the end of the street took me and back. She finally called me up and told me it was a joke.
     How about you tell me something I don't know.
     So now here I am, nine o' clock at night working my ascot off to get my English and Journalism homework done. I may not even get any sleep tonight, seeing how I think this will all be done by two. Might as well just stay up the next three hours filling out scholarships cause my mom won't stop pestering me about THAT.
     Here's the point of this post.
     Good prank. You're fricken hilarious. I really appreciate you adding to the mountain of stress which I already have to climb. So I appreciate you making that challenge a little harder.
     What goes around comes around.

(Word count: 613 words)

Act 5 Analysis - Hamlet (and Stuff)

Oops look who's feeling kind of lazy.
Here is the second draft of my expanded analysis of Act 5 in Shakespeare's play Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

            In his play Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, Shakespeare develops a connection between the loss of innocence that we all face as we carry on through our lives and the same loss of innocence that Hamlet experiences when confronted with his deceased childhood jester, Yorick. While formulating this scenario, Shakespeare also furthers the plot of the play to escalate the action and prepare the reader for the final exposition.

            Throughout the play, it is evident that Hamlet has a sort of childlike innocence surrounding him; he falls madly in love, and then casts the same love away; he speaks in riddle and rhyme, and acts in unusual manners. Hamlet has nothing on his mind, aside from the revenge he vowed to take against Claudius for the murder of his father. Hamlet does not accept that his actions will result in unnecessary consequences which aren’t revealed until the final scene of the play. It isn’t until the penultimate scene in which Hamlet’s composure is finally torn down and he realizes that death is cruel and unfair journey; one he realizes he must eventually take. The “gambols and songs and flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar” that once pleased Hamlet are all but gone, with only a jawless “chapfall’n” skull to prove Yorick’s existence.

            Hamlet wants to share this knowledge with his “lady”, which is implied through the text to be Ophelia. Shakespeare used this entire scene to try to share with his audience the concept of how innocence may be lost. Thousands of situations arise, but it is in that moment, in the face of death, that acts as the breaking point for many people. It is until this point that Hamlet believes his jape to be nothing but child’s play. With his façade finally shattered, he faces the realization that his actions will have, and already had consequences.

           Loss of innocence is a theme that Shakespeare likes to connect into many of his plays. It’s a reminder that eventually, everybody dies; Hamlet’s realization of this subsequently leads to the tragedy, and eventually his death, that occurs in the final act of the play.

That was easy.
So small little blurb cause I feel bad.
I had an okay day today, it was gray and overcast. It sort of made me melancholic and... I dunno. I felt neutral. Some things were said on the bus to me that didn't make me too happy, but I guess I got over it quickly enough.
Some times it's hard to make yourself believe you are cared about. I feel that sometimes I am worth not even an ounce of effort to some people, and I get in these huge internal debates about what sort of impact I am making on that person. I dunno. Anyways, that's my little blurb. Skills Leadership Meeting this week, which should be fun.

Hobey Ho,
--Nate

(Word Count: 523 words)

Angst, Anxiety and As-

-sho... Well you get the point.
     Man has this been a fun week. I hardly even have the patience to write this blog post because of how fun it has been.
     Oops. Is my sarcasm showing again? Sorry I try to hide that. Doesn't always work out. Whatever.
     But boy has it been a fun week, I mean with all this joyful college fair stuff? My family has been a huge bundle of fun. On top of them telling me the best I can do is drop out of high school (oh but it was "sarcastic" they say. Mhm that's the first thing on my list of things I really wanted to hear right now THANKS), I have to worry about somehow paying the funds to actually get into college, and get a good education. I guess it's either that or being a bank teller or something as equally stupid.
     This week has been a huge debate of whether AP classes and similar varieties of education are worth it. I mean, I've been told and told AND TOLD to challenge myself but the more I think about it the more I wonder WHAT WAS THE FREAKING POINT?
     "Oh you are paying $90 now to save $1,000 later! It will be worth--"
     Let me stop you right there. There are SO many things wrong with this statement.
     Lets start on the AP test. Sure. So I'm paying $90 for a test I am not even sure I am going to pass, and some colleges don't even exempt you from a class with a 3 on the stupid thing. Well, there goes $1,090 down the drain.
     Next, lets just look at the type of student I am. I will admit, I am not the most motivated student. I am above average, but I am not the best. "Challenging" myself by taking these AP classes really does nothing for me. I get a B or sometimes a C in the class, which has no benefit. Sure, I passed my two classes last year, but at what cost? Lets take a look.
     UNR will give you $5,000 a year if you can get a 3.5 UNWEIGHTED GPA in your core classes; English, Science, Social Science, and Math. Hmm, it seems our school only offers AP courses in these subjects! How useful. As I stated earlier, my GPA gets hit pretty hard by the fact that I take AP classes. My core average runs about a 3.1. So $5,000 gone. The Silver-and-Blue scholarship ($2,500) is for a 3.3 unweighted GPA in all classes and a nigh perfect score on the ACT/SAT. A 3.4 GPA puts you at a next-to-perfect or a nigh-perfect ACT/SAT score. My unweighted total GPA? 3.3/3.4. So I gotta shoot for am ALMOST PERFECT ACT or SAT score (of which, for your information, I will not be taking until December. Thanks padres. Like I had $80 to spend on these stupid tests).  So you see my problem? The next level of scholarship is the Nevada Pride level. At this point, I have a pretty wide range of test scores and GPAs to get this one. This scholarship is the one I will most likely be getting. $1,500 a year. Woo. So why am I bitter?
     Cause it's unfair. I'm gonna be saving only $600 on college courses thus far (my 3 on the APUSH exam doesn't count unless I got a four). I have this strong STRONG belief that if I had taken normal classes rather than AP/Honors, my GPA would benefit. By that, I probably could have hit 3.5 and gotten the $5,000 Presidential. So $600 taken off the first year cause my lousy 3 on the AP English exam gets me three credits, then I am saving -$19,400. Whoa, that's a nice number. If I pass all my exams this year, then it only puts me up $2,000. I am still down by over seventeen-thousand dollars. See where my problem lies?
     So my question I pose to you my dear friends, is what is the point of working so hard? Sure, I challenge myself, but my grade does the suffering. And by my grade suffering, I am gonna have a lot harder of a time getting through college. If I can't get through college, then ALL that hard work was wasted as the credits are naught. For me, this is a losing battle.
     A losing battle that at this moment causes a lot of anxiety, a lot of angst, and seems to be making everyone a bit of an asshole.

(Word count: 781 words)

Books, Books, Books. (A Game of Plots and Kings)

     Hello everyone. Uh... A long, ramble-y post about books. Worth a read I think, but bear with me and it might be useful? I don't know. You might find humor, a new read, or something useful out of this. Just a warning before hand.
     So, after an extensive time reading, I just finished reading A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. A large, mammoth of a book sporting over 800 pages and words printed small enough to make me squint even with reading glasses on. To be frank though, it was really good. The main characters that the story was focused around had me very engaged and attached, the plot was dynamic and filled with some good twists and surprises, and the overall story was well composed and the continuity was spectacular for a novel of such length.
     The whole time I read it, I had felt attached to almost every character, and it was almost impossible for me to point at a House and claim "They are the bad guys!" because it felt like they all had perfectly good reasons for their actions, at least most of the time.
     Except this smug jerk. This guy, and most of the House Lannister can go find a nice deep dark hole to die in.
     Moving on...
     I overall extremely liked the book, and I can't wait to read the next one. I have to watch the series too, at least the first season, seeing how much of it won't exactly be spoiled as I already finished the first book. With all the characters in the book (I'm telling you, there were at least fifty) it was really hard to try to imagine what most of them would look like. The show should really help put a face to the names. One problem arises before I move on to the next novel though...
     I have a book problem. Some people are addicted to drugs, others to hugs, others to mugs and glugs, some weirdos like slugs. But me? I can't stop reading. I have visited the library several times in the past few weeks and every time I've gone, I have picked up two or three books that interest me. How can I even start new books when they keep piling up?! Oh well, I'll get to everything eventually!
     So far I got some easy books as well as a couple of harder books lined up. Two children novels; one from one of my favorite author(s) Chris Riddell and Paul Stewart. It's a short thing, illustrated and fun. Nothing too serious.
     Then I've got another kid's novel; it's a small science-fiction novel that I read many many moons ago. It's called When the Tripods Came. The concept was really interesting to me when I read it (basically these Tripod rulers come, brainwash the world, and enslaves the whole human race) who knows how many years ago, and I want to read it just to refresh what the book is about. You know, to figure out what the whole idea actually means, and since my brain has matured far more than it did when I was younger, it should be more interesting.
     Then I got another Ray Bradbury book, The Illustrated Man. One of my posts recently discussed how I felt about him as an author, and I have been meaning to read more of his works. I eventually want to get to re-reading The Martian Chronicles, which I read as a freshman. I want to tackle it again now that I have a better understanding of how Bradbury succeeds as a writer.
     Finally, I got a collection of short horror stories, just in time for Halloween. The collection is a bunch of writing that H.P. Lovecraft did in his years. If you aren't familiar with this author, he wrote a ton of horror/scary/terrifying things; but scary in a sort of psychosis, mind-numbing, "you're going insane because the ancient distorted beings from the furthest ring willed it" way. One example is his fictional universe in which he created The Elder Gods (such as Cthulhu) which gained notoriety for it's uniqueness, and blossomed to a large following, especially on the internet. The non-voters of 2012 even ran this Cthulhu guy as a satirical presidential candidate. The thing that sort of got me interested is a novel I read around two years ago? I was a sophomore I believe. It's called House of Leaves and it is written by Mark Z. Danielewski, which I think was inspired by Lovecraftian horror (this Lovecraft guy was so popular he even inspired an entire genre). There's even a pretty interesting podcast which is inspired by Lovecraft horror.
     Past that, I am reading the Book Thief for the Book Club at our school (which I guess is not about a magical world in which a mysterious wizard is stealing books and causing some sort of destruction by doing so... Oops.), and past that, I think I am going to try to read the next A Song of Ice and Fire book (aka Game of Thrones). Further down the line, I plan another re-read of The Martian Chronicles, as I said earlier; a re-read of the Edge Chronicles series, which I have a deep love for due to it's hardcore fantasy/steampunk setting; and possibly another re-read of A House of Leaves, which is one of my favorite "weird" novels. Antique. Whatever you wanna call it. And this is just the planned stuff, who knows what kind of treasures I will find down the road at my subsequent visits to the library. I'm not even going to start counting all the awesome stuff I manage to find at Grassroots and various thrift shops. I walked out last week with ten new books... You should really take a look at my now-overflowing bookshelf.
     Well, for those of you who stuck through my rambling about books, good job. I think I threw out a ton of good suggestions for anyone who is looking to read a new book, which is something I have been asked to do by several of my friends. Guess I can direct them here now! But if you have any other suggestions as well, let me know. I'm pretty open to just about everything.
     Thanks for sticking through with my ramblings.
     Good night viewers. Good night.

(Word Count: 1068 words)

Taking a Break

     You know, for the past few days I have been trying and trying to figure out what I want to do for this blog post. I had a couple of different approaches too. Do I write about how many scholarships I did or didn’t do? Do I write about where I went to prepare? Do I write about what homework I did?

     I finally settled for this approach. What did I do over this short one-week break to prepare for college? Well, I gave myself a break. Sure, I tried one or two scholarships and I went to some UNR Fall Preview thing, but I really didn’t even feel like doing those. School has been rough for me these past few weeks, and this quarter. I don’t feel like I am ready to tackle being a real adult, with a job and college and everything else that goes with it. If it was up to me, I would be a high school student forever…

     But that really can’t be the case. By the end of the week before we went off, I was so overwhelmed that I nearly gave up everything in frustration. The break we had? It soothed my nerves. It settled my anxiety. It made me calm enough to focus on what I needed, and what my responsibilities were.

     So a lot of other kids may say “Oh yeah I like totally signed up for like fifty scholarships and sent out like a hundred scholarships! [sic]” but I sat back, watched a little television and chilled out in my PJs for half a week. I went to Sacramento and got some materials for a couple projects I had been meaning to work on. I read a couple books and dived into the depths of my imagination. I did exactly what the break was intended for.

     Took a break.

     So now it’s time to push through until Winter Break. The extended three weeks is going to be really nice, and I have a trip to Pasadena that I am really looking forward to. But I gotta focus on my school work and other related responsibilities first.
     Hobey ho.

(Word Count: 363 words)

A Conflict of Interests: The Battle for Who Writes Better

     "WELCOME TO THE RING!" the announcer hollers. All around him, screaming fans hold signs that professes their love and admiration for their favorite competitor. Popcorn and drinks litter the floor of the stadium and the air conditioner hums loudly to cancel out the heat of the moment. The tension is like a fire.

     "IN THIS CORNER, WE HAVE THE RED COMPETITOR! HE LIKES TO HEAT THINGS UP, TOSSING BOOKS IN A FIRE AND SENDING PEOPLE TO MARS FOR FUN. WELCOME! RAY BRADBURY!"

     A middle aged man dressed in a leotard that seems a size too small for him steps from the shadows in the red corner and into the light. He adjusts his glasses and puts his fists up in a cliché "put-em-up" manner.

     "AND IN THIS CORNER, WE HAVE THE BLUE COMPETITOR. WHETHER IT'S SONNETS DISCREDITING PERFECTION OR TRAGEDIES TO GET TO YOUR HEART THIS MAN HAS YOU COVERED. WELCOME! WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE!"

     William runs towards the ring, dressed in some kind of silly bard's outfit and a majestic cape. A cameraman runs besides him recording the action, zooming in on the decorative knuckles he is accessorized with. On one hand, it spells "BILLY" and on the other, "SHAKE." His cape slinks off his shoulders and he hands his knuckles to an assistant. He jumps back and forth, pumped for the fight.

     "Welcome gentlemen. I want a clean fight from both of you. Whoever wins will decide WHO. IS. THE. BETTER. WRIIITTTEEERRRRR." The crowd goes wild, screaming as the tension grows larger and larger. The two competitors bump their gloves and nod at each other, backing up into their corners and start the fight.

(All events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events, is purely coincidental)

     Okay. As you can see by my large metaphorical hooplah, I am having a conflict of interests. This year, I have been more exposed to two authors whom I found I have a deep love for.
     Ray Bradbury, who wrote novels such as The Martian Chronicles and Fahrenheit 451. I read TMC back in Freshman year, and I loved it (although I am beginning to think I need to reread it). Everyone I know (save for a few) despised the book, and whenever they asked me why I disliked it, I didn't have a clear answer. But I still liked it a lot. This year, I have read both F451 and another called Marionettes Inc. which is slightly less known. What I have noticed about all his books is that he has a unique way of describing what is going on with so much detail that you can physically see what is happening. When reading his short stories and books, I saw it so vividly that I almost wished to create a movie about it. To those who don't know, I am planning to get some kind of degree in Videography/Broadcasting.
     William Shakespeare on the other hand, is unique in his own way. I've read his plays practically every year I have been in high school (Romeo and Juliet in Freshman year, MacBeth in Junior year, and Hamlet this year) and every time I read a play I realize how much of a genius Shakespeare really was. Despite the slight language barrier, and his clever wit which is buried in the pages of his text (things I have found many people can't stand), I still love him. Maybe it's cause I get him.
     So this is where my dilemna arises (spell check told me that I spelled that word wrong, and I googled it for so long it looks really funky now...). I believe it takes an advanced mind (or a lot of SparkNotes) to get either of these authors. Don't get me wrong, I'm not putting myself above any of you who may not like these authors and I am not saying you have a simple mind, I'm just stating my belief and what I have taken from the observations I have made these last few years. Usually if someone doesn't get something right away, they don't like it and they move on. Fahrenheit 451 is based around this idea. Our fast food society has watered things down so that we get the one thing so we can move on to the next idea without much thought.
     The question really is, who do I feel gives me the most complex thoughts? Is the imagery in Bradbury's books exceptional enough that I would root for him? Or is the wit and tragedy that Shakespeare so brilliantly expresses the reason I might like him better? 
     I can't decide. I'm the referee in the middle of the fight making sure that no one hurts each other in the end. I can't decide between who I think is going to win or who I think I like better. I like them equally the same I suppose.
     Two illustrious authors who I believe will always hold a place in my heart.

(Word Count: 828 words)

The Future Freaks Me Out (Oops. There's Life.)

     Hello friends, it's been a while.
     To Mr. Burge, who by the creeper page views bar I can tell has been checking my blog, I know I haven't updated in a while. Oops. There's life.
     To those who actually take time to read my blog because you feel an obligation to/enjoy my writing/whatever other insane reason you might have for being here, welcome back. I'm getting back into the flow hopefully and will keep writing.
     So this week has been busy, if you'd like to put it that way. My homework schedule was light. I didn't have any plans or obligations. I didn't contract swine flu and start the apocalypse. So... "How was my week busy?" you might ask me.
     In all honesty, it wasn't. I was apathetic all week. I didn't have to actually do anything, so what little work I did get (see: Blog, Calculus Homework, English Homework) I did not have the drive to do. I literally felt like sitting on the couch all day and watching TV (did I mention Season 3 of The Walking Dead came out on Netflix last week? And that Season 4 starts next Sunday?).
     I'm not going to lie to you, senior year has in a way (north by northwest) sucked. Don't get me wrong, I am trying to live it to the fullest; I've overhauled my wardrobe, I've made new friends, I've participated in as many opportunities as I possibly could. But The Future Freaks Me Out. If I could stay at this point infinitely as a senior in high school... trust me, I would.
     That's not the case though. This place that has been my home for four years will be torn down and tossed away. I will move on to other places, forming new connections and evolving as a person. It will never be the same. The carelessness I've had as a teenager will forever be lost. I will need to work hard to get what I want and even harder to actually get there.
     Burge told us in class today almost this same thing (I might have used it slightly as the basis of this post). He's right. I can't keep feeling apathetic like I did last week (I think the term is senioritis). These past four years I have been pushing a boulder up a hill, struggling to get it to the top of that mountain. When January rolls around, the ball is gonna drop (pardon the cliché). I'm gonna have to juggle scholarships and applications and a job and school and everything else that is thrown in there.
     I'm not ready.
     But I'm gonna have to be.
     So here goes. No more apathy. No more skipping homework cause it is more convenient at the time. No more playing video games until three in the morning on a school night cause I felt like it (no this only happened to a friend of mine, don't worry). I am gonna take the bull by the horns and make this year the best it can be, to make my life the best it can be.
     I'm on fire, and now I think I'm ready to bust a move.

(Word Count: 532 words)

Circuits and Wires

Circuits and Wires

A journey through my brain
To connect the dots and to understand
The ways in which a mind works.

Spirit's up gotta look good
Gotta support for what I love
To be the image of a crowd
Practicin' what you preach son.

A dance a dance a 
wonderful dance. A
time to be free and enjoy
the little things in life.

But what to wear?
Oh my what to do?
Formal it seems hmm hmm...

A Doctor's voice calls
an idea emerges; but
when shall he arrive again?
The sad man in a box?

Or not so sad anymore
For he passed his sad
endings and is arriving
at a happy beginning.

It seems we all do this
In the lives we live
We are the writers of
our sad endings, just
to find ourselves the composers
of happy beginnings.

(Word Count: 147 Words)

Shakespeare, the guy everyone loves to hate.

     Oh Billy. Wherever I turn, it seems people get frustrated with Shakespeare, the friendly, arrogant poet slash playwright from the good ole fifteenth century. What's there to hate? Okay, I guess granted the language is a huge barrier. It's like trying to talk to someone with a thick accent, you just keep looking at them and thinking "Huh?" I guess Shakespeare can be the same way. Still, that's what makes it fun to read.
     For my English class this week, we are starting to delve into Hamlet. We were told this is the most difficult of Shakespeare's plays, so I went in with a bit of reluctance. My expectations were too low. For those having trouble, try reading it all out loud. Trust me, hearing it all in my voice and being dramatic about reading the play helped me follow through with what was going on, rather than just glazing my eyes over it and pretending I got it.
     I got it all first try, I think. In just the first three scenes, I succeeded in laughing my butt off a total of three times (3). I just find it completely hilarious the way the language is used to express humor. Lets go to Act 1, Scene 3. Laertes is about to take his leave back to France, and he says goodbye to his sister. Being her brother, he has to give some kind of brotherly advice before he leaves her in the big bad world...
     Shakespeare had two choices here. He could have said something blunt and obvious, like "'Ey gurl keep it in ur pantz and stay away frum tha' Hamlet punk", but instead, he said this. "Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain if with too credent ear you list his songs or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open to his unmastered importunity."
     Ouch. That one hurt. And throughout the entire play these people are harassing Hamlet. I mean, look at Cladius. He is the uncle of Hamlet's late father, whom also married his sister-in-law not even a month after her husband had died. She don't care. She do what she wants. But when Hamlet laments his father, all Cladius does is say "Maybe we should chug on over to mamby pamby land where MAYBE we can find some self-confidence for you, you jackwagon!". Even later on, Polonius questions Ophelia about what Laertes had told her, and when she told him, he just reinforces the statement.
     It seems that Hamlet is a depressed little teenager. How? Well ask Horatio and he'll tell you. He comes in saying he is but a poor servant and Hamlet says "I'll (ex)change that name with you." Seems Hamlet wants nothing to do with the royal blood he was born with. Personally, he should be a little more grateful. I bet all the peasants in Dunsinane would kill a king to get an opportunity like that (cough cough Macbeth.)
     So wrapping this up, I am excited to continue reading this. Shakespeare, even after 600 years, is still a great writer who never fails to amaze me. I'll certainly be looking forward to finishing this play.

(Bonus)
I always imagined Shakespeare in his teenage years. He would sit out on street corners, dressed all fancy, and he would walk up behind women and declare, "Your eyes are nothing like the sun." Curious, she turns around and looks at him imploringly. He continues his sonnet, sniggering sometimes in-between lines. "And in perfumes there is more delight, than in the breath that from you reek." SLAP. The woman backhands him in disgust and trots away. Shakespeare has this impish grin plastered across his face, and he rubs his cheek where he was hit and looks to find another woman to "woo." Sometimes he uses "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" and sometimes he uses other sonnets. He never gets to the end of them, because usually he gets slapped or the woman leaves before he can get to the turn. He spends his nights crashing at a buddy's house, where he and his friends help him write some of his more arrogant sonnets, and they usually end up falling asleep exhausted from all their laughing.

(Word Count: 710 words)

Steam-Powered Apocalypse

    Hello again everyone, happy hump day. If you are not a fan of that video, happy Wednesday. If you do not enjoy Wednesdays, it has been cancelled due to a scheduling error. I am gonna review a book today. Although I haven't finished it, I think I am far enough in to review it accurately.
     So these past few... two weeks? Maybe? I have been reading a novel called Romulus Buckle and the City of Founders by Richard Ellis Preston. It's a pretty good novel all and all, the concept is interesting--it's about a bunch of aliens destroying the Earth, putting the remaining human population into a steam-powered apocalypse where feuds between clan leaders ravage the frosted landscape--the characters are dynamic, the imagery is nice, and the plot is good. I can say that this is a good book, but I also kinda disliked it... But I believe that is due to the similarity to another book series.

  

     Just last year I read a series called the Edge Chronicles, which was a steampunk/fantasy hybrid. The characters, plot, setting, backgrounds, and everything else was amazing. To top it all off, one of the authors of the book, Chris Riddell, also illustrated the novel. This led to drawings every couple of pages to give the reader a better image of what was happening. The picture on the right is just one example of what the art looked like. I really loved this idea, because although the books were more based towards kids (hence why they were pictures, I think) it really created the image in my mind of what was happening in the book, how the the characters interacted, and key locations. It also made some great drawing references.


     Back to the main point, I think the Edge Chronicles book series kind of tainted my view for the Romulus Buckle book. It is almost the same in main aspects; there are giant floating skyships, the characters dress in a certain manner, the plotline of Romulus Buckle could easily be a plotline in the Edge Chronicles, and many other things. So while I am reading this, I keep reading all this great description of what the characters are dressed like and what the airship is like and the likes of such. I keep expecting a picture to go along with it, but then I remember that it's a whole other book series. It's still good, don't get me wrong. It was slow reading at first, but I am really getting into it.

     I guess what I am trying to say is that I miss the Edge Chronicles. The final book of the series was released just over three years ago, and it hasn't been the same since. I have read and reread each book to try and fill the void, but it simply won't go away. The good news is that the authors announced another book to be released next spring, even though they said they'd stop. Pretty excited for that. Book-wise, my patience is being tested this year. So here's to being able to enjoy all the books to come in my future.
     Hobey ho.

Word Count: 525 words

Music and Poetry

     Due to me feeling un-creative tonight, and that it is nine o' clock at night, I'm just gonna write a little piece of something we all know and love... Music.
     As we approach the end of our poetry unit, we were asked to find a song that, to ourselves, is a poem. There's a funny thing about music that we don't quite experience in poetry, mostly the rhythm of each (bu-dum tiss). Well, what I mean by that, is one has a catchy beat in the background and the other goes through a lame pattern of tame matters that rhymes in sequence of time and secrets. Oops, you didn't just see that.
     Anyways, music makes us feel inspired and emotional. When you are reading a poem, you read it in your own voice. When listening to music, you are hearing the intensity of whoever the artist is, telling their poem the way it is meant to be heard. Imagine good ole Billy Shakespeare reciting Shall I compare thee... to whichever fine (or maybe not-so-fine) mistress he wanders across. (Time machine Bucket List. It's official)
     A lot of people complain about not "getting" poems. They have so much hidden meaning buried in metaphor and simile and imagery and implication and explication and literal and imaginary and concrete and abstract that it is hard to figure it out on the first go. It took me several reads to actually understand Sylvia Plath's Metaphors, and even then, I had to talk to some classmates to truly understand the different aspects of the poem that related to what it meant. If you haven't read it, click here; it really is a good beginner's poem to read if you want to get started into poetry.
     So what makes music so different? Returning to my original statement, its rhythm. I doubt many people can get a song right on the first go, even if they tell you they can. Granted, these days all this lame poppy music is pretty blunt and obvious (oh hey, you just met me and want me to call you maybe. will do), but I am talking about music that isn't trying to appeal to us in that way, the stuff that makes us think. Pop music really just tries to sell us their songs, and it's not easy to do that if someone has to think about why they want to buy it.
     When I get a new album, I gotta listen to it 5 or 6 times through, and even then I only get the lyrics. After days and days of singing the songs to myself, then is when I really get it. But hey, I enjoy listening to music, to sit on the bus and blast out the world in the sweet sounds of stereo and synthesizers. Put a nice beat across a poem and I bet I'd listen to it a thousand times as well.
     So to wrap this up, I guess what I am trying to say is to give things a chance. Poetry isn't easy to get at first, and you're not gonna record yourself saying it just so you can listen to it a million times and understand it, and no one else is either. Music IS poetry, it's just easier to understand. So instead of throwing your [insert literary medium here] into the air, burning it to pieces, feeding it to your dog, or tossing it at your little brother, try to read a couple lines and hey, maybe you'll run into something you really like!

Since it's a calm-ish night and I am feeling slightly generous, enjoy this peaceful eight song playlist for your listening pleasures.
     Modest Mouse - World At Large
     Modest Mouse - Custom Concern
     Motion City Soundtrack - Boxelder
     Motion City Soundtrack - Hold Me Down
     Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks
     Death Cab for Cutie - Lack of Color
     Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism
     Ben Folds Five - Brick

Word Count: 662

Time to Board the Scholar Ship

     Well, it's come to that time of our lives. It's time to get ready for college; it's time to write all the essays, to submit our applications, to take a million tests that abuse acronyms (SAT, ACT, HSPE, ASVAB, WAT, MIT, CIA, FBI, LOL), and to try and get those pesky scholarships.
     Scholarships. Boy aren't these fun. Our economy is built in such a way that either one, you have enough money to fund yourself through college, or two, you get a couple of scholarships, you get a job, and you work your butt off to struggle through four years. Usually at the end you are piled in student debt too, and from what I have heard, that's a joy. In my English class, we've had to start writing essays, a sorta nudge in the write direction by my teacher to hopefully give us a chance. It's time to board the Scholar Ship, and trust me, you're not gonna get those tickets by winning poker with a Full House in some shabby bar at the port. (Full House, Boys!)
     Most of us will get the Millennium's Scholarship, and hey, that'd help. But past that, we're out on our own. We're out on the College Safari with our Jeep broken down, hunting for food in the middle of the night. Sometimes you'll nail a gazelle or two, and that will feed you for a short time. Most of the time, the tigers and lions (and bears, oh my) will kill you with debt.
     Okay. A little too much hyperbole for you? I agree. I was over exaggerating. But that's sorta how I feel right now. My future is a train coming across the tracks at full speed; it's a game of chicken, and on one side is high school and the other is college. Gotta be fast. Gotta be ready. Can't be pommeled by that overwhelming responsibility and crumble under the pressure.
     So as you can tell, I am more than a bit worried. I found a couple of scholarships here and there, and I took my shot. Who knows when I will find out if I get them though, sometimes you just need to close your eyes and pull the trigger. Sitting to my right, there is a list of about 60 or so scholarships I need to complete (shout out to my mum for getting that together), but trust me, the list does not look to appealing.
     Good luck to everyone this year; I bet we're all gonna be fighting the same battles in our own way this year, and we could all use a little help from each other. It isn't worth getting mad over some of the little things someone says, they've got bigger battles to fight and can't be trying to participate in all the smaller ones. Good luck getting those scholarships, good luck writing those essays, good luck finding the college you want to get into, good luck with all the tests and grades and leadership and life and whatever else gets in the way. I'm with you all every step of the way. Hobey ho.

(Word Count: 521 words)

How Far Can You Stray?

     Good afternoon, everyone. Today, I'll be discussing the book Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card (1985), and more specifically, how I think (from what the trailers have shown me) how it will compare to the movie. So here we go. Possible spoilers ahead, so if you plan on reading the book (or watching the movie) enter on your own whim. I will try to keep the spoilers to a minimum. Very spoiler-y parts will be run over in gray, highlight them to read those parts.
     So first, lets discuss the author. Orson Scott Card (OSC) has written over 50 books, many in the Sci-Fi genre. You can correct me if I am wrong, but I didn't notice any extremely prevalent viewpoints in Ender's Game (although I can't say much about his other novels), and so because of his personal opinions on topics such as same-sex marriage, political stance, religion, and science he has been under fire by various people. You might find some people with VERY strong opinions about his writing. I have talked to some people who really love his books, and some who really hate them; when I asked them to provide reason for these opinions, usually it was his opinions that were the reasons for someone liking his books. 
     Now, the book, in my opinion, was very good. It was only until I inquired with others about why they liked or disliked the books that I looked up what his beliefs were. So I wasn't reading the book because I disagreed or agreed with him in one way or another (I read it cause it was assigned for book club). Back to that, the book was good for a couple of reasons. I like science fiction, and I pleasantly enjoyed imagining what the games he played would be like. I like how humanity was one of the "themes" of the book, which was present throughout most of it. I also like that it made me think, I read it, and I felt like I could clear my thoughts and talk to people in a way that made sense. If this post doesn't make sense, it's mostly cause I am not reading the book anymore.
     I watched the trailer the other day, after finishing the book (both trailers are viewable here and here), and from what I saw, it will not even be close to the book. I know, this is typically how movies are, but hear me out. At about 1:40 in the second trailer, he is inside of his flagship, controlling the fleet, ready to destroy the planet in the distance. In the book, this wasn't the case; he spent his time after graduating from the first school playing more simulations, thinking he was only playing games and preparing for the war. It was not revealed until later that he was actually controlling a real fleet, and fighting against the Buggers in the war. He felt almost overwhelmed and defeated in the final battle, and all but gave up and, as he thought, "broke the rules." When it was revealed to him that he had just won the war, he got angry. He didn't want to kill anyone, even the Bugger enemy. In the movie, it seems like he is almost happy to be fighting against the enemy, and the whole book's conflict of being human seems to have been erased.
     So that brings me to the question. How far can a movie really stray? Does the director not want to include it, because he does not agree with OSC's beliefs? Or is there something else? Or am I overanalyzing it entirely and merely taking assumption based on a couple short clips? I dunno. I still am gonna go see the movie when it comes out, and hey, maybe I'll like it as much as I liked the book. We'll see.
    On a side note, I would like to brush on a connection I noticed. This book, in at least the atmosphere of it, seems very similar to Starship Troopers (1959). Space wars, "Bugger" hostile aliens, propagandic in some minute way. Stuff like that. I looked it up, and OSC said he had not even read the book until after he wrote Ender's Game. Just some food for thought. There's another book I should start reading. Maybe after I finish all the ones I got. Hmm...


(Word Count: 730 words)

A Study of Blogging Habits

     Today for my English class we were assigned a couple poems to analyze and answer questions for. Of these, one poem really stuck out to me. It is called A Study of Reading Habits by Philip Larkin (1922-1985). This poem was more or less pretty interesting, and the imagery it supplied, as well as the message it displayed at the end were very humorous. Here, read it for yourself real quick:

When getting my nose in a book

Cured most things short of school,

It was worth ruining my eyes

To know I could still keep cool,

And deal out the old right hook

To dirty dogs twice my size.

Later, with inch-thick specs,

Evil was just my lark:

Me and my cloak and fangs

Had ripping times in the dark.

The women I clubbed with sex!

I broke them up like meringues.

Don't read much now: the dude

Who lets the girl down before

The hero arrives, the chap

Who's yellow and keeps the store,

Seem far too familiar. Get stewed:

Books are a load of crap.

     Well. That was certainly an adventure. First of all I am going to define some words I didn't recognize, and maybe you readers didn't quite recognize either.

Lark - A bird who's song is delivered in flight
Meringues - A type of light and fluffy desert
Stewed - Drunk

     Anyways, this poem seemed really interesting to me, as I connected to it as an avid reader. Each stanza describes a period in the speakers life; the first, describing his life as a child. The speaker usually felt the cure for most ills was reading (besides school of course), and that this activity he considered fun was worth ruining his eyes for. The next three lines may describe the kinds of books he is reading: old adventure books in which the hero is constantly beating up the villain and his henchmen. The speaker connects with this, and imagines himself in the same situation.
     The next stanza describes his life as an adult. Due to all his reading as a kid, he has to wear some large glasses just to see with his damaged vision. He constantly makes adventures into the night, doing the dirty deed with women and "breaking" them like fragile deserts. This could also possibly describe the literature he was into at this age; thrilling suspense novels, set in dark places with which the heroes may have several different types of adventures.
     Finally, the last stanza describes him as an old man. He identifies with the side characters of books, rather than the main protagonist; the character who lets the girl down, maybe betraying her, just before the brave hero arrives, or the "yellow" (scared) shopkeeper who stays in hiding if he was being held up. Suddenly, the speaker realizes this life is all too familiar, and suggest one simple thing to fix that: to get madly drunk.
     "Books are a load of crap" he describes. His entire life he lived through the characters of a book, and at the end of his life he realized that this may not have been a good idea, although he only realized this when it was too late.
    Overall, as I stated previously, this was a pretty interesting poem. The humor was spot-on, and it kept me interested. The way the speaker describes the characters he relates to and how he is using these characteristics inside of his own life is also pretty humorous. It took me a couple reads to get it, but when I finally did, it made a lot of sense.


I tried to write this blog piece six times, before I was satisfied with this result. Please enjoy it for my own sanity.
Blogging is a load of crap.

(Word Count: 629 words)

Out of My League

     Well, first of all hello everyone and welcome to my blog. I will be posting things about what I am reading inside of class, as well as thoughts of what I am reading outside of it (which may or may not be in several parts). I will likely be describing my thoughts on the reading or what I have read thus far, and may be criticizing or appreciating various aspects of whatever I am writing about. So lets begin.
     This week, I finished Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea (1870). Quickly summed up, the book follows Mr. Arronax and Captain Nemo aboard the submarine The Nautilus as they travel 20,000 leagues across the sea. Some may consider Verne's work as the mother of science-fiction, due to the absurdity of the ideas he wrote about in his day and time--although they certainly seem less absurd in our modern era.
     Despite talking to other people, who say to have enjoyed the book, I can't with an honest mind say that I liked it. I thoroughly appreciate the science-fiction genre, and in that statement I can say that I appreciate Jules Verne for kick-starting the idea, but this book appealed to few of my fancies.
     One reason I failed to like this novel is that the main character, Mr. Arronax, describes his trip and what he sees in as many vivid details as possible. Initially, I enjoyed reading this but after the fifth or six time it happened, I got very bored, very quickly. Arronax lists the Latin names of every fish he sights, as well as several sentences of what their appearance. My small understanding of marine biology failed to identify many of the creatures, save for the cuttlefish and other similar species. I glazed over many of these details in the latter half of the book, due to them having no real contribution to the plot, or characters, in the novel.
     These long segments of detail were interrupted by small amounts of humor, and some action such as when Captain Nemo and Mr. Arronax explore the lost city of Atlantis, the much too short battle with the giant squid, the ice berg, and the maelstrom are examples of this. Sadly, these moments never really lasted any longer than a page or two and the story went right back into description.
     Overall, the book was not so good. I can understand the purpose of the way it was written--a journal written by a biologist who wished to record every detail of his journey--but that I think made it the biggest turn off for me. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then I would suggest you read it, but if you are more attracted to the modern day sci-fi (see Ender's Game, Dune, 1984, or any of Crichton's novels) than you might want to pass this up. Or maybe not, it's always good to see the origins of these things.
    At least I got a cool cover.

(Word Count: 500 words)