As a kid, age seems like such a big deal. Does anyone remember in elementary school, when kids would decide who was right in an argument by who was older? It was as if the two month age difference really did mean that much. Even in middle school students aren't often very close with the older (or younger) grade students. Is the one year difference between grades really that important? I don't quite understand. Adults seem to be associated with other adults of all ages. Most people's parents aren't the same age. And I'm sure that adults don't finish arguments by saying "I'm three years older than you so I'm right and you're wrong". It seems like as we get older, age matters less. A lot of things matter less, actually. As we get older, and more "mature", we forget about little things like age, and start to think about more "important" things.

So when are we fully considered adults? Is there a specific moment when we stop caring about age, and other seemingly frivolous, childish things, and start thinking like "adults"? In J.D Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye", the main character (Holden Caulfield) spends a lot of time with boys that are various ages. One boy in particular, Ackley, who is about two years older than Holden, but in some ways just as immature. Ackley prides himself on being older than Holden. He is a perfect example of people who say "I'm older than you, so I'm right". However a lot of the time, Ackley isn't right. He's often irrational, inconsiderate, and insensitive-and let's not forget immature. But at eighteen, Ackley is a legal adult. He would get charged for crimes as an adult, is charged an adult at movie theaters and museums, can legally get a driver's licence, ect. He's considered an adult because he's eighteen, s he must be a mature adult, right? I'm sure that Holden, and other characters that knew Ackley, would beg to differ. They still know him as the immature boy he is. So can age really have that much impact on maturity? 

Holden himself says "People say I'm awful immature for a sixteen year old, cause I like to horse around so goddam much". Everything he does he does because he wants to, and he thinks pretty irrationally. Holden often says he doesn't do something simply because he didn't "Feel like it" ("I didn't answer him. I didn't feel like it.", "I started running. I don't know why-I guess I just felt like it") I think that another part of being an adult is not just doing things because you feel like it. As an adult, I think you become more responsible, and you do things because you have to; it's your responsibility. A big part of coming of age is taking on your responsibilities. So in this way, Holden IS a very immature sixteen year old. But are we supposed to expect people to be mature by a certain age? Is there a specific measurement of maturity to be had by a specidific age?  I people don't just turn sixteen or seventeen or eighteen and say "Alright! I'm an adult now, time to be mature!". Coming of age is a gradual process that happens at different times for everyone, and one shouldn't judge maturity by age. 

So maybe, judging things by who's older works in the elementary school playground, but as we get older, we become more mature (not all at once, at a certain age, like clockwork, but gradually) and understand that some people are more mature than others, regardless of age. Some people stop thinking like a first grader, and start taking on responsibilities. But I still haven't figured out what sparks this change. What makes us start to act more maturely? Granted, the older one gets, the more mature you seem to be, but  that's not always the case, as I've just explained. But what about getting older makes us more mature? Life experience? Tragedy? Exposure to the world?  And what about these things make some people mature more, or mature more quickly than others? Actually, how does one measure maturity at all? What exactly IS maturity? I hope that as Holden figures this out, so do we.

Why I can't read intensely intense books...

It's funny, how a few weeks ago I was starving for books, and now I'm swimming in books I'm dying to read.
I look at them, sitting patiently on my bookshelf. Stacked knee-high aside my bed, scattered on my desk, a few actually burrowed in my underwear drawer. [I don't know how.] All of them are silent. Content. Ready but not eager. They know their time will come. They know that one day, tomorrow or next year, they will be picked up, devoured, adored, relished, conquered, eventually destroyed. Though the total worship will only last a few days, weeks at most, they accept their fate. They know that they will be slid under a pillow, beneath a bed, forgotten in a locker or given to another person, their black ink is stamped in my mind. Their scent-- be it dusty; old like sunlit-rainy mornings slathered in sleep and easygoingness, or harsh and straight-edged; fresh from Barnes & Nobles--is safely hidden in the warmest corner of my [sensory] cerebrum. They understand that they will be left behind, but not forgotten. I build my world out of them, hide in the paper fortress and get lost in the sea of Carbon Font and Times New Roman. Comic Sans and Aria. As short lived as this love affair is, the effect is eternal.

Which is why I'm struck by A Thousand Splendid Suns. I didn't really like The Kite Runner, which is by the same author-Khaled Hosseini. It was magnificent, but there's a lot I could say about it. It needed some editing. What I love about Hosseini's books however, is that they seem to be the exact same books that sit in my room. Granted they're nothing like Nietzsche, or Dr.Suess, or Francis Bernard Shaw, but they seem to do the same thing the books slipped under the shag rug seem to do. They capture me when I need them, slip away when I'm done, but stay imprinted in my memory. They have a great deal of deep thinking, not only symbolically but ethically, morally, ect. You could read one page of A Thousand Splendid Suns, and be provided with conversational topics that would last you a week. Actually, I'm not sure about that. I doubt it's humanly possible to ONLY read one page of this book at a time.

Anyway, what I'm saying is, it's actually as impossible to find only ONE main thing to talk about in this book as it is to only read ONE page. One topic I'd like to talk about tonight though, is right at wrong. Perspective. Abuse. Violence.

We've been talking about violence, love, hatred and so on in our Romeo and Juliet text study, so this book actually helps me a little, in terms of finding important things in the Romeo and Juliet. What I've noticed and been thinking a lot about in A Thousand Splendid Suns, is what makes things wrong and right. Does believing something is right make it so? In this book, a man named Rasheed is physically abusing his wives, Mariam and Laila. At one point, he locks both women and Laila's child, Aziza, in a room for three days without food, water or sunlight. Afterwards, he doesn't regret, apologize, or question what he does. Simply says that they deserve it, that this is the consequence for their faults. Rasheed seems to almost symbolize the Taliban of this relationship, this family. He seems to be the epitomy of "An Eye for and Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth". Possibly much more extreme, actually. But what I don't understand, is why Rasheed seems not to understand the monstrosity and horror of what he's doing. All his abuse and evil doesn't even bother him. He doesn't realize what he's doing is wrong.

In Rasheeds eyes, hitting your wife, punching her, sticking a gun in her mouth, it's all totally acceptable. In Rasheed's eyes, this is alright. This is what a woman deserves if she misbehaves. Women are for bearing sons and taking care of their husbands and houses.  And what makes Rasheed wrong? In Afghanistan, he's pretty much right. Women have no rights. They can't travel without a man, can't go out without a man, can't be out after a certain hour of night. Can't go to school, have to go to separate hospitals, can't go out without a burqua-a sort of robe that covers you head to toe-save for a mesh cover that allows you to see. Rasheed's world is totally in sync with the physical world he lives in. That surely doesn't make him right, though? Obviously, these monstrosities are exactly that-monstrous. They're unacceptable and unjust, right?

When I watch the news every weeknight with my mother, I seem to ask myself the same questions about the alarmingly increasing number of stories about murderers, arsonists, robbers, sex offenders and other criminals. Surely, they are insane. Surely , they're wrong in thinking what they're doing is acceptable. That's why they're going to jail-they're wrong!

But what happens in a place where the wrong things you're doing are concidered right? Or if not concidered right, simply overlooked? Are right and wrong really going to do a difference? What I mean is, if Rasheed is told ''What you're doing is wrong'', if he's arrested, sent to jail, for what he's doing, will he still believe he's right? Will he care if he is forced to see what he's doing is wrong? Is this situation even a matter of right or wrong?

Right and wrong seem to always come up in my conversations. I always seem to ask myself, is this right? is this wrong? It's almost like an obsession. I have to be on the right side of life. Which is fascinating AND creepy. It's also why I can't get through this book without questioning everything, and getting myself confused. I keep stepping into Rasheed's shoes and seeing why he would think he was right-even though it's totally corrupt and I don't agree with his thoughts at all. And it's not even like Hosseini paints Rasheed in a possitive light. It's just so easy to slip into Rasheed's mind and see what he sees, think what he thinks, hate what he hates and do what he does. (Not literally. I'm not that into any characters.)

But because of this, it's impossible for me to answer all of these questions honestly. So if you'd like, leave a comment answering one of these questions, or maybe just turn off your computer and read a book or eat a donut and watch T.V or something.

I APPRECIATE BLOGS, PARENTHESES, AND THE ACTUAL WORD ''BLOG''.

General note to public, even though I don't think an introduction was mandatory (it's FUNdatory! HA--no, i hate when teachers say that) :

Blogging. *Dreamysigh*. So maybe people really don't like blogs, but I do. I love blogs, I love blogging. Maybe it doesn't seem like it, because this is a school blog and all, so it's mostly school-y stuff...but that's still fantastic. I really really love having blog(s). I have two right now, and had a few others a while ago, and there's something great about being able to just...be. To talk and post pictures and ask questions and be weird and computer-y. But what I love most about blogs, is finding good blogs. Whether they're David Bowie/Freddy Mercury/All things fabulous and flamboyant appreciation blogs, picture posting blogs (flickr-esque), poetry blogs, short story blogs, not-so-short-story blogs, personal blogs, or whatever kind of blog, I love it. I love when I love it, and I love that I love when I love it. I love blogs. Blogs are great that way. They're ever expanding and if done right show you the bloggers voice, and really get you thinking (about ramen...).

Now that I'm done using some variation of the word ''blog'' exactly 18 times in one paragraph (Go ahead and check for yourself...I'll wait), here are a few blogs I really really love. (By the way Ms.Robbins, this idea to make people make blog appreciation posts is magnificent.)

Here goes:

1. ANNEH ANNEH ANNEH ANNEH. ANNEH FUTTERWOMAN.  India Futterman !(http://eveningswithdrfutterman.blogspot.com)

This girl is magical. She is simply amazing. She is the reason that I am able to get up in the afternoon, after my daily lazy-girl laze, and blog for homework well. She is reading response blog inspiration. The first Futterwoman  Blogpost of Magic I ever read was PERFECT AND MAGICAL AND AMAZING AND I LOVED IT. I absolutely love how articulate and spot on she was. She's able to really relate her thoughts about her books to real life and make sense. She's able to keep the reader interested, and write in her own voice and with humor while still sounding professional and smart and amazing. The way that Annie grabs your attention, and keeps it, and makes sense is great. She's able to weave her paragraphs together with metaphors and honest emotions and thoughts and personal comments. Basically, she's a perfect blogger. She says what she feels, and what she feels is right. Her writing is unique and top-quality. YOU GO FUTTERWOMAN. YOU FLAUNT THOSE FUTTERLADY COLORS.  Because you deserve your Futterness, you get a NATHALIE APPRECIATES THIS sticker. (Well, a mental one, I don't actually have any stickers).

2.LIKE WOW LIKE WOW LIKE NO WAY LIKE AHHHHHH!

Lilabet Johnston-Gil!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://anorderlyuniverse.blogspot.com/

I've kind of been secretly stalking Lilabet's posts for a while, and I'm really glad I can openly recommend her writing to the world. She's a quirky writer, and very analytical. You can tell that she really cares and thinks deeply about the books she reads, and her responses are always packed with great insight and feedback. Her off-the-dotted-line personality shines through in her writing, and make her responses that much more enjoyable and interesting to read. Her writing is great. She can be more than a little funny, when needed, and is always so real. She's not afraid to tell it like it is. She's hilarious. And because of your originality, Lilabet, you too get a NATHALIE APPRECIATES THIS sticker.  Just an example of Lilabet's supreme writing 

3.FERNYNANDEZ FABULOUS TIME! (Isabelle Fernandez)

http://ferny-nandez.blogspot.com/

this blog is stupefying. And I'm not just saying that because ''stupefying '' is my favorite word in the English language. I really mean it. This girl is just so great when it comes to blogging. ESPECIALLY THIS IT'S A GREAT POST LIKE WOW! What I love about Ferny's blog is that she actually seems to be invested in it 130%. She's not just a status-quo blogger. She's not afraid to her all into that blog. She shows you the type of music she likes, little personal things...She reveals little things about herself in her writing and in her posts. Not to mention that her posts are really great. She picks up on things in books that most wouldn't. She's a clever rabbit. Her blog is 100% loveable, and really great. All of her posts are so ***smart***. She just seems to magically understand things, and notice things no one else would. I really adore reading what she has to say. She's a great blogger. AND BECAUSE YOU ARE SO FABULOUS IN YOUR MAGICAL MASTER PERFECT AMAZING STUPEFYING STUPENDOUS MAGNIFICENT WONDERFUL FABULOUS WRITING WAYS, ISABELLE, YOU GET A NATHALIE-APPRECIATES-THIS STICKER! BECAUSE I APPRECIATE IT!

I know this makes me seem like a clique-y blog girl. You know, the kind who only talks to a select group of people and only talks about them, and glorifies them, and use them in her project, but these really ARE great blogs. I'm not a clique-blogger. That's not me. A bunch of other blogs worth checking out: 

SammiJo

Ben Futterboy (Futterman-in-training)

Pia
Rafael MacDougall
Susan!

and a few others I can't put my finger on right now.
YOU GUYS GET A NATHALIE-APPRECIATE-THIS STICKER TOO! YOU GO!

Poesies

Jean-Paul Pages, Janvier 2006

J'ai deux soleils dans ma vie

Alexandre et Nathalie

Rayonnant de la frequence

De cet amour infini

Qui tous les etre unit

En transpercant leurs defenses

Si bien qu'au fond je me dis:

Ils sont la preuve vivante

Que la Vie intelligente

Cree ici le paradis

Et qu'il suffit d'observer

Pour voir mon coeur s'abreuver

De la tendre certitute

Qu'il n'est nulle solitude

Ainsi malgre les apparences

Rien ne me fonde a douter

Du sens et de la beaute

De ma presente existence

Merci o merci mes enfants

D'exprimer tant de joie de vivre

Vous ravivez pour vos parents

L'etincelle gui les delivre

Elle fuse a travers vos yeux

Et votre sourire radieux

Translation:

John Paul Pages, January 2006

I have two suns in my life

Alexandre et Nathalie

Radiating in the frequency

This infinite love

Which unites all be

By piercing their defenses

So that inside of my heart I say:

They are living proof

That Intelligent Life

Here Created paradise

And it is enough to observe

To see my heart quench itself

With the tender certitute

That there is no loneliness

So despite appearances

I have no basis to doubt

The meaning and beauty

From my present existence

Thank you, O thank you my children

For expressing such joy of living

You revive your parents

The spark issued the mistletoe

She bursts through your eyes

And your radiant smiles

My (Response?) Poem

Mon pere!

Seulment si j'avais le vocabulaire infini, des modes pour t'exprimmer

Mon amour:

Impossible, 

Immortel.

Tu est les rayons de lumiere qui eclairsi le monde en pleine nuit

Les notes parfaites qui sortent de la tere

Mon pere!

Sans tes touches magnifique,

Les soleils dans ta vie, trops vite-fini

S'elionnent de tout les peuples

L'heure est L'hiver

O mon pere!

Je suis ta deuxieme joie, la moitee de tes soleil

Tu est ma seule rainson

Je suis ton deuxieme

Tu es mon premier et mon dernier

Papa, papa, papa

Mon amour:

Impossible, 

Infallable

Immortel.

Tu est les rayons de lumiere qui eclairsi le monde en pleine nuit

Les notes parfaites qui sortent de la tere

Mon pere!

Sans tes touches magnifique,

Les soleils dans ta vie, trops vite-fini

S'elionnent de tout les peuples

L'heure est L'hiver

O mon pere!

Je suis ta deuxieme joi, la moitee de tes soleil

Tu est ma seule rainson

Je suis ton deuxieme

Tu es mon premier et mon dernier

Papa, papa, papa

Translation:

My father!

If only I had an infinite vocabulary, a million ways to express to you

My love:

Impossible, 

Immortal.

You are the rays of light that illuminate the world in the middle of night

The perfect notes emerging from the earth

My father!

Without your magnificent touch

The suns in your life-who's end premature-

Retreat from all people

The hour is now winter.

Oh, my father!

I am your second joy, the half of your suns

You are my only reason

I am your second

You are my first, my last

Papa, papa, papa.

THE EPICLY AMAZING TRIPLE WHAMMY BLOG POST!

Hmm. So after a wonderful breakation (vacation within a break). I come home, ready to write a new blog post, and bask in my happiness, only to find-TWO OF MY BLOG-POSTS HAVE BEEN DELETED.
Either:
a) my computer didn't actually post them, because my computer is just old and terrible, and gets viruses like every three months.
b) the blog monster ate my posts.
c) toast.
(I'm pretty sure the reason is toast, but it also could be unicorns. But unicorns isn't an option, so I doubt it.)

HOWEVER! I have a plan:
MAKE AN EPICLY AMAZING TRIPLE WHAMMY BLOG POST!
In which-
-I rewrite my two lost blog posts, and write this week's post.
-I eat baby carrots while writing, to get my creative juices flowing.
-I try to talk about unicorns as often as possible.'


So. Post one:

Maximus Ride-The Angel Experiment:

Oh. Oh dear. This book. I actually don't know how to feel about it. I think it's borderline guilty pleasure, because the entire time I was reading, I kept noticing how much I disagreed with the way James Patterson portrayed kids around my age, and how I didn't like the book. But somehow, I couldn't. Stop. Reading.
I think it was a nice escape, a fantasy, and some of it was actually interesting. I think that even though the story itself wasn't that great, the deeper messages were actually really interesting.
For example, Max (the main character) has this talking voice in her head, and he's kind of like the narrator of the story's deeper meanings. He's always asking questions, and making insightful comments about situations in the book. And as annoying and unnecessary as it really was, I do like one thing that it said:
"Is it important to be right, or is it important to do what's right?"

That stuck with me throughout the story. Max goes on this adventure, where she's trying to kill evil dog creatures and escape evil scientists and save the world from evil stuff. (It's all...evil.) And the entire time, I'm trying to understand what's really 'right' to do, in this story. I mean, one thing that's really interesting is that you don't know much about the 'enemies'. They're evil scientists, according to Max, but are they really evil? Is Max right? How can you know what's right, if you've got the story wrong?

At some point in the book, one of the scientists says 'You've got it all wrong-YOU'RE the bad guys!'. That really shook me. I mean, I think in order to do what's right, you have to BE right first. You need to, you know, know what's going on. But when does being aware become being right? When do you go from knowing what's right, to BEING right? What does that even mean, being right. I doubt that you can only be right, or only do what's right. Don't you have to be right, to do what's right?

Maybe, what the writer means is, doing what's right can often times mean doing bad things. So you can't be right, if you're going to be a hero. You have to be prepared to do bad things, to do 'wrong' things.  It kind of reminds me of unicorns, or spiderman. In Spiderman, the Daily Bugle is always calling Spiderman a villain. Granted, they're a newspaper, they're just trying to make money, but I think that people always kind of hate the good guy. Maybe because it's easier to sympathize with an underdog, but maybe also because the hero DOES have to do some nasty things, for the greater good.

My question is, how much can we sacrifice before the greater good isn't worth all the bad things we do to acheive it? When does the greater good become less important than what we're sacrificing? When someone has to die, two people, a hundred? When is it no longer okay? I think that's more a question of personal ethics. It's different for everyone. I think that's why ''heroes'' have a hard time being liked/accepted. Because some people feel that what they're doing is wrong.

But hey, they're still saving the world. And unicorns.


Blog Post TWO! Catcher in the Rye.

This book. I can't decide whether I hate it or not, either. But in a different way. I really liked that there wasn't really a plot to the book. There wasn't a main issue, or whatnot. But I also hated that. It made it harder to find the big meaning in this book. At the same time, it made it a lot easier. Instead of one big major issue, there were lots of little ones scattered around the book.

But the one thing you can always count on is Holden Caulifield's character. He's always the same person. I mean, there's a definite change in him, from begining to end. He gets more mature, sure. But he's really predictable. ...In a good way. It's kind of like, you know him. He's very realistic. And I like that. So when Holden's at his old teacher's house, and he wakes up to find the teacher patting Holden's head/ running his fingers through Holden's hair, I wasn't at all surprised that Holden freaked out.

I doubt that the teacher was actually trying to do anything, but it makes me think about Holden. He was so scared and shaken about that incident, and really thought that the teacher was ''approaching'' him, even though it was highly improbable. It kind of shook me, to think about how easily people jump to assumptions like that.

I mean, it happens to all of us in real life. We just jump to absurd conclusions. We suddenly make the decision to believe something that's totally unrealistic. Why is that? Who do we blame it on? Another media stunt, where we're so stuffed with ideas of how to think, what to think, what decides whether something is or isn't something? Or could it be that we're influenced by other people?
Maybe it's just us.

Maybe WE'RE guilty. We're the blame. WE stereotype. And WE make assumptions and WE are overreacting. But that still doesn't explain WHY we do this. Sure, it's are own reaction, our own problem. But what sparked it? What sparked this initial need to understand everything, to figure out the scenario before really taking the time to know both sides? Holden could have easily asked what his teacher was doing, tried to understand why he was doing it. Instead, he jumped up, freaked out, and left.  I don't get that.
Was it adrenaline? Simple stupidity? Ignorance?

Maybe Holden was just acting in the moment. He was scared, and didn't have time to think rationally. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if Holden DOES ever think rationally. I kind of admire/resent Holden's impulsive ways. Failed out of school again? GO RUN WILD THROUGH THE STREETS OF NEW YORK FOR THREE DAYS! Don't want to go back home? PLAN ON MOVING TO A REMOTE TOWN, WORKING AT A GAS STATION AND PRETEND TO BE DEAF SO NO ONE TALKS TO YOU! Bored, depressed? BUY A FIVE DOLLAR PROSTITUTE! It's kind of amazing, he gets to live his life so much that way. Just doing what he feels like, without really thinking it all through. One thing I noticed however, was how lonely he seemed to be.

Throughout the book, Holden was always talking about how ''depressed'' he felt, or how lonely. He was surrounded by people, but still felt so alone and sad. Isn't that creepy? I can see what he means though. I get the feeling. I think it's more that he couldn't really identify with anyone. Even that girl that he went to lunch with-Sally. He was talking about how great she was, and then realized that she was ''phony'' and totally not the kind of person he liked. I think that it's important to surround yourself with people you actually enjoy, or can relate to. That's probably why Holden hated his old school-his roommate wasn't like him, nor were any other kids. I'm not saying that you have to find someone who's just like you, or you'll be lonely and depressed all your life. I just think that maybe, you need to be around people you can enjoy, people you actually genuinely like if you don't want to start feeling lonely, or lost.

Actually, I think that the one thing that follows Holden from beginning right to almost the very end is his loneliness, or sadness. I think that even  if this isn't the moral of the story, Holden was finding himself in a way. He was going home. To his parents, his sister, his actual house. He needed that. Without it he was just a sad kid lost in a big city. He isn't ready to go out into the world alone. He's still young. And he needed to get back home. I'm not saying that he isn't equipped physically-he did okay. But I think that being alone at such a young age kind of got to him. I don't think he was ready yet, for whatever reason.

I don't think anyone is.
What do you think? I mean, maybe I'm totally wrong. Maybe I don't understand Holden Caulifieled at all, and I've totally messed up with this book response.

 I think Catcher in the Rye is the type of book that's sort of debatable, because it's so different and normal. I think I actually loved it.

Also, my computer keeps freezing, so the final part of this triple blog post will come tomorrow, because I'm scared it won't save. Stay gold, ponyboy!




I'm sorry, I just always wanted to say that.

The Honesty Blog

 People say that patience is a virtue, but I think that honesty is much more important. Granted, as human being-and a teenage one, at that- I'm not always completely honest. I think that it's rare that I'm ever completely, 100% honest with anyone. Why is that? Why can't I talk to people, unafraid to say what's really on my mind? Sometimes, I feel like I'm even editing my thoughts. I try to keep myself from thinking a certain way, or about specific things. It's almost like I don't want to hear my thoughts. I don't want to face who I really am, alone and honestly.

Don't get me wrong, I love myself. I don't have any self-esteem, body image, or self-acceptance issues. But sometimes I just don't think that I'm completely fair or appropriate or what-have you. Sometimes, I surprise myself with  my thoughts. They're wild things-things I wouldn't expect I am capable of thinking. And I suppose that's why I'm not always honest with people, isn't it?  I don't want them to know everything about me, how I think and what I think. I don't want them to know I were really am.

But if I'm clipping myself-editing out the parcels of my character that I don't want other people to see... am I still that un-clipped, unedited person? Or have I become the new and improved, mature, appropriate, likable person? Is it healthy to be dishonest in this way? I don't even know if it counts as being dishonest. Is not telling the truth lying? But then again, if I were to be completely honest, nobody would like me. They'd find me to be a crude, unkind, immature, perverted, materialistic, needy, perverse girl. So would it really be better if I were completely honest?

Both Eugene, the main character in Brighton Beach Memoirs by Neil Simon, and Holden, the main character in the book The Catcher in the Rye by J.D Salinger, made me question honesty. Both characters often said what was honestly on their minds, never keeping a single perverted, unkind thought to themselves. As a result, I think it was easy for me to more than a little bit uncomfortable reading some parts of these books. I didn't like knowing what was really on these character's minds. Even though all their thoughts were natural, they were almost too honest. At the same time, their sincerity and honesty made these characters so real. I found myself relating to these characters. The writers dived straight into the mind of a pubescent boy, writing without hiding a single thing. And that's what I think made me love these books so much-even if sometimes I felt like I was hearing too much, the characters were totally relate-able.

But as much as I was able to relate to these characters, the other people that they interacted with in their books seemed unable to. These brutally honest boys seemed lonely, misunderstood, and disliked by the people around them. Why is that? Why don't the supporting characters like these totally honest people? Have these characters been hurt by Holden and Eugene's honesty? Does the truth, indeed hurt? I'm sure we can all say that we've been hurt by someones honesty. Perhaps being honest all the time would also end up hurting people all the time. At the same time, don't lies hurt people as well? Which is better?

Even if these characters seem to prove that honesty can be harmful and isolating, I read something recently that makes me think otherwise. Last week I was reading 36 Assumptions about playwriting by Jose Rivera, which is basically a list of things that make plays wonderful. One of the first things on this list was that a writer should hide nothing in their writing. It's important to be completely honest when one writes. A reader can tell when writing is authentic; that something is wrong. So if in the literate world, honesty is good, why is it that in the real world it seems that honest can cause trouble?

Maybe it's not the honesty, but what the honesty reveals. In being honest, we expose to the world all of our flaws. Perhaps, if we we'rent as flawed; if we were better, more respectable people, our honesty would not be a problem. Honesty can be good. And perhaps Rivera was only speaking about writing. Perhaps, it's okay to lie once in a while. Maybe it's better that I'm not 100% honest, 100% of the time. I think what Rivera was trying to say was that when you write, you have to write with your heart. Write what you feel-don't just write what you're told to write. And I think that this applies to life, too. Be honest-do what you feel is right, not what you're told is right. Of course, that doesn't mean that you should go about breaking every rule.  Overall, honesty is good. An honest person is good. But an honest person also knows when NOT to say something. They will keep things hidden, because if you expose everything, you will become a Holden, a Eugene. You will be scrutinized, ostracized, disliked.

 Honestly, honesty is a dangerous thing. It is not good or bad, but something much more complex. So use it with caution.

Magical Mistakes

So...I know that I might face possible Ms.Robbins Jail Time or public reader's shunning or something, but...I totally didn't read this week.
BUT!
I have an explenation: for the past four days I've been sick, and I couldn't do anything but mope in bed and be sickly. It was bad. Really bad. Also for another three days I've been in a terrible bookless state. (I searched the classroom library, and my own library for like fifteen days but nothing struck me as interesting).
Alas, I was in a 'all the good books that ever existed died in a terrible fire of terror' state.
So for the part of the week that I was actually physically capable to read, I read this biography about Nikola Tesla which was really good but totally non-thought provoking/inspiringly magical.
I mean, he's a really interesting guy, he had a really interesting life, but this book was...lame sometimes.
There was no pizaz, or spunk or spark. I mean, even a non-fiction book can be exiting, right?
This, was not.
The book kind of went like this "Nikola Tesla blah blah history history". Somehow, on the fiftieth page I decided, if this book wasn't going to excite my inner reader, I would.
So I thought of everything I learned from this book.
A lot.
Nikola Tesla was a total genius, but had a lot of nervous and psychological/mental problems. The lack of documentation on his past makes him a man shrouded in mystery. More facts, blah blah blah.
So then I decided to think deeper about the FACTS, and make THAT interesting.
I realized, most geniuses are usually pretty much sociopaths or have some small form of a mental disorder.
Why is that?
Does your brain erase the common-sense part of it to have more room for crazy genius facts?
Tesla had a pretty dark past, so maybe the fact that he dealt with what he did caused his mental issues, which actually HELPED him strive as an inventor/mad genius.
He had OCD, might have had schizophrenia, often had hallucinations, photographic memory and a multitude of other medical phenomena, and they all contributed to making him successful as an electrician/inventor/genius.
So I thought, maybe our faults help us become better people? That might be something I can get out of this totally lame book...Because it's true. Every mistake we've ever made has brought us closer to success. Every fault we have kind of makes our good sides better. Maybe the fact that I'm really moody makes it easier for me to write plays that are super dramatic and complicated. Maybe the experience we've had, be it negative or positive, have helped us be better equipped to go out into to the world.

So yeah, I did read a book. Not my favorite, not something I would suggest unless you're seriously into the informative non-thought provoking, but I definitely got something out of it.
It was a good mistake.