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.

New York Writer Sentenced to 5 Years of Angst?

Well I mean, we all are, kind of. (Sentenced to five years of angst). Honestly, as adolescents, all we do is suffer the terrifying grips of 'teen angst'. So usually, from around age thirteen till eighteen, we are the unrecognizable monsters of the human race. Just kidding.
In Ned Vizzini's book Teen Angst? a collection of essays and short stories about growing up in New York City (Brooklyn, actually). Throughout the whole book, I was thinking 'uhh, this is all great, but really, where's the teen angst, exactly?'. There was no angry brooding bohemian grunge boy, no nerdy trench-coat mafia kid; just a nerd who went to Stuyvesant. A kid like you, or a kid like me. (Honestly we're all nerds) And I realized that I was kind of angry.
I wanted my teen angst and I wanted it now! I wanted all the stories about drugs and alcohol and all the stupid things teenagers were supposed to do. So why was I reading about SHSATs and Summer Camp with a Punk Rocker Girl? And more importantly, why was I enjoying it?
Because I can relate to it. Even though I have to admit, sometimes I can be a terrible annoying angsty girl, (like everyone else), I'm normally just...me. A 'normal' teenage girl. Not rebellious or angry, or stupid or badass (uhh...am I allowed to say that here?). Ned Vizzini, once again, shows how interesting life is, on it's own, without any extravagant rebellion/dramatic additions.
I mean really, do you think that being all 'fml, I hate my life, blah blah blah' unless you actually have a reason makes you more interesting? (And even if you have a reason, would you really be saying that?) I don't think that angst is something that teenagers NEED to have. Sure, it's something we all feel occasionally, maybe more than your average adult, or toddler, but I don't think that we need to make it our only emotion. And I don't think we need to hunt for it in books, either.
That's kind of what I love about Ned Vizzini's books, actually. They're mostly all normal. There's no extra drama, it's all stuff that could actually happen to anyone. (I'm not saying that being assaulted by your uncle after your dad died and become addicted to cocaine while your mother goes bankrupt and your sister suffers from lukemia and you struggle with anorexia while trying to get a certain hot guy to like you couldn't happen to anyone, but really...?) Somehow though, it's still totally interesting. You don't need to suffer from five years of terrible angst and terror to have something interesting to say to the world. I think, by simply being alive, we can be interesting. You don't really need a lot of sprinkles on your vanilla ice cream to make it a real ice cream. (Okay, my metaphors are weird, so shoot me.) And I have to say, Ned Vizzini's teenage life totally lacked sprinkles. I mean, he never really bemoaned his life or talked about his troubles. He was pretty vanilla.
 Which makes me think, what's with all these kids who try so hard to be miserable? Since when was this a pity contest? Since when was being a brooding teen with a terrible emotional life become cool? It's all for attention, I guess. We all want something to make us feel special, unique, worthy. And as soon as you don't care about that, like Ned did as a kid, you start to be okay with life. Things are happy, normal. You're not some ridiculous kid with an abnormal amount of problem sprinkles on your vanilla ice cream of life. Yes, a few sprinkles add flavor, but too many cause diabetes...
I don't think that people really need to put an emphasis on their problems. I think that if you have a problem, you should fix it. Publicizing it isn't really going to get you anywhere. You're life is already interesting without the extra emphasis on the misery. YOU are already interesting without the extra sprinkles.
I mean really, sprinkles can be really gross if you eat too  many. Have you ever tried to eat a container of sprinkles? They loose taste, your tastebuds kind of die and all you taste is food coloring for weeks.
So trust me,  you don't need extra stuff to make your life more interesting. You already are interesting. If a 20-something year old New Yorker can write a book about his bland life, then so can you! And I'm not saying you have to right a book, you can just sit here and think of how cool you really are, and how your life totally IS interesting.
So comment, tell me about the vanilla in your life, or the sprinkles, or what makes your life good. Think about little things that are totally average or uninteresting about your life. Because really, the vanilla is the best part of the ice cream.
Sprinkles suck.