Dick and Jane and Vampires

I was at the library picking out some first grade level books for Azarious, the 17 year old boy I tutor. If you don't know Azarious' background story, read that here.

The problem with having a teenage boy read children's books is that he's not very interested in them. We read things like Splat the Cat and Fox in Sox. So when I found Dick and Jane and Vampires, I really thought I had hit the jackpot. Sure, it wasn't Twilight, but Azarious probably isn't in to that whole Bella-is-obsessed-with-a-man-with-no-pulse thing. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist grabbing the book from the shelf.

I opened the book and looked at a few pages. My first thought was "Oh #$%!  *$@&; and @#$%^# they let children read this?" You'll see what I mean. I wanted to scan all of the pages to show you, but I'm pretty sure I'd be breaking copyright laws if I did that.

This guy wants to suck your blood.

Hey Jane, there's a vampire head in the bushes. But it's no big deal, I've seen worse.

There's a bat and it's going to bite you on the neck and infect you and steal all of your toys!

 

Children think monsters live under their beds because we enforce the belief through literacy.

It is important to teach little girls that we won't believe them when they tell us they saw something creepy. Instead of acknowledging them and believing they are telling the truth, tell them they are a slob instead.

Holy &*@! Let's just terrify children while they learn to read.

How Wuthering Heights was 1847's Twilight

Last weekend I got sucked into watching a Masterpiece Classic movie on PBS. I never watch these, probably because they induce me to slumber. The movie may be a piece of classic literature, and I fully support reading, but I just cannot get over the weirdly styled hair of the women, or the mutton chops of the men that star in these roles. They are distracting and make me forget the words being said.

I mean, I liked Pride and Prejudice well enough, but it had to grow on me. I was forced to watch it about four times by others, and on the last time, I realized it was actually a pretty hot love story. I even own the Keira Knightly version, which I know you will argue is not half as good as the one with Colin Firth.

After watching Wuthering Heights on PBS, I became aware of how similar Stephanie Meyers' Twilight is to Emily Bronte's twisted love story. Here are the parallels:
How Heathcliff and Edward are similar
*dark, creepy personalities
*pasty skin
*terrifying eyes
*poorly styled hair
*obsessive about the women they love to the point of death

Do you really want either of these men loving you?

 And now, How Heathcliff and Edward are NOT similar
*Heathcliff actually has some clever dialogue, whereas Edward just tries to smolder everyone with his golden eyes. The Heathcliff line that cracks me up is when he returns from being gone for three years. After finding an unfavorable old man still alive, Heathcliff says "You're still here?" The old fart replies "Yes, God has seen to keep me alive on this earth." Then Heathcliff zings him with "Maybe the Lord has kept you on earth because he'd find your company so irksome in heaven." Well played, Heath, well played.

Regardless of writing, character development, and dialogue, both Wuthering Heights and Twilight romanticize obsessive relationships and influence readers/movie viewers to desire such relationships. People, please understand, these are not sweet "I'll die without him" love stories. They are creepy. Restraining orders and medications were created for just these exact stories.

Stay with me here, because I'm about to shift gears and go into my "beliefs" mode. Sorry if you skip out on those posts, because you miss the very core of my heart and soul when you do. You may not read my "God posts" because they don't make you laugh, but believe me, God has a sense of humor. He did, after all, create the Saiga antelope and the Macaroni penguin.

Back on track. That whole obsessive-love thing. In high school or even college, I may have thought that was what true love was like--thinking about someone so much that you feel the urge to creep by their window at night to watch them sleep. But not now. You may think I am a liar, but this is what I want: a man obsessed not with me, but with God.

This is what I envision

You know how "Losties" used to get together to obsess over the TV show and discuss time travel or smoke monster theories? How Steelers fans would give up an appendage if it helped their team win another Super Bowl? How Star Trek fans speak a whole 'nother language unto themselves? I want that. I want to be so geeked out on God that the reason my love relationship with a man works is because we are both obsessed with the same thing: The King of Kings.

Am I obsessed now? No, not by a fanatic's standards. Do I want to be? Yes. If there is anything worth obsessing over, it's God. Heathcliff and Edward really need to straighten out their priorities. Cathy and Bella need to get a clue and realize men will always disappoint, no matter how much they love you.

God is crazy in love with you and He thinks about you all the time. Jesus loves you so much he died for you. He wrote you a fatty stack of love letters and tries to impress you every morning by making the sun rise. He is so obsessed with you that he wants you to spend forever with Him.

Are you getting this? At this very moment, someone wants to love you forever. Regardless of what you do, no matter who you cheat on him with, God will and does love you forever and always. It's his deepest desire that you love him back.

And well, if you still crave that creep factor in you love relationship, don't even worry about it, because God already watches you when you're sleeping.

--Joelle

Bits and Pieces

I have this lotion that I keep in my desk drawer at school. It's made by the brand Slice of Life, and the scent is icing on the cake, buttercream and vanilla. I love it because it smells exactly like frosting. My hands were really dry last week, so I slathered some on in the morning. About an hour later, I'm going around the room, helping kids with writing, when Julio says, "Mmmm, something smells like cupcakes." He had no idea it was me. But what makes this adorable is that Julio totally would be the one to notice a delicious scent. He's a little bit chubby in a very cute way and has glasses.

This is a second hand story, but I figured I'd share it even though I was not present. So our male PE teacher usually just goes by "Coach," and sometimes kids call him Mr. Coach, even though his name is Mr. Smith. He has just welcomed a little baby girl into his family, and the baby and mother came to see Mr. Smith at lunch one day. One of the 4th graders says, "I just saw Mrs. Coach's baby!" Mrs. Coach. Too cute. But it makes sense, right?

I have this girl student who is being tested for TAG, and I sort of feel like her brilliance and cleverness is reflected in her belongings, which is totally not a legitimate way to identify talented and gifted students. But she has this awesome pencil sharpener. It's shaped like a nose and you stick a pencil up one of the nostrils to sharpen it. I kind of want one. I even took a picture of it after school.

 I've mentioned Drew a lot in my teaching posts, because he's the one who says all of the funny things. He's appeared so often that I've given him his own tag. Anyway, Drew's favorite thing to do is to go out to recess on a sunny day and then stick his chest out and pretend to rip open his shirt. Then he throws his head back and says "I'm Edward!" You know, Edward Cullen, vampire who glitters in the sun light.

Last week Drew had to write a fictional story for the prompt "Imagine a drawing, painting, or sculpture comes to life. What happens?" Drew decided that he would draw some animals, and then they would come to life while he was sleeping. He'd wake up to them making noises on his bed. A dog, a bird, and a snake would all jump out of the paper, and then they'd go crazy all over his house. So Drew decided that in his story, his older brother would throw an eraser at the bird that was flying around pooping on things. This of course, would cause the bird to disappear. Then Drew decided that the snake would get hungry and slither to the kitchen, open up the fridge, and eat some moldy pizza. The dog would bark a lot and poop in the house. Drew and his brother would not want to get in trouble with their parents, so they would need to get rid of the animals. I asked him "so how does the story end?" His solution? "We wad up all these paper balls and we throw them at the snake and the dog and they get sucked back up into the page." Which you know, seemed like a pretty cool idea. Not to be stereotypical or anything, but kids who have autism typically have the best ideas.

P.S. Does anyone remember when I used to blog on MySpace? If you've been with me that far back, you deserve some sort of award.

A Halloween $cript

I was going to write you a really creepy Halloween story. You know, something about how I went to work at my school on Sunday evening (which I will totally still be doing, thanks to the overwhelming amount of work I have to do) and I saw the ghost of the child who haunts the school. There totally is one. A boy died there many years ago. Okay, now that I'm starting to think about it, I'm getting the heebie jeebies in anticipation. I don't want to be at my school on Halloween. I'll have to wake up super early on Sunday so I can get there and be gone before dark, when all the vampires and ghosts are walking by. What was I thinking? I totally should have stayed late on Friday, instead of jetting at 3:45. Anyway. As I was saying, I was going to write you a creepy Halloween story, but instead all you get is this script of dialouge.

Setting: My car, driving down Lancaster at 4:30pm on October 30th.
Characters: Me, Officer Bingham

Me: (rolls down window, peers up at police officer who has just pulled me over) Hello?

Officer Bingham: Ma'am are you aware that you were going ten miles over the speed limit?

Me: No, I didn't realize. I'm sorry.

Officer Bingham: Can I see your license and registration, please.

Me: Yeah, sure. (leans over to open glove box)

Officer Bingham: Jo Lee? (As he tries to pronounce my name off of my license, his eyes shift to the floor of my back seat)

Me: Jo Elle.

Officer Bingham: Joelle, have you been drinking today?

Me: Not yet. I've only had water, I swear.

Officer Bingham: Why do I see an empty Jack Daniels bottle in the backseat of your car?

Me: Oh, that. That's been empty. It's for my Ke$ha costume.

Officer Bingham: (raises eyebrow skeptically--probably because I am not blonde and thus do not look much like Kesha).

Me: Or rather, it's for my best friend's Ke$ha costume. We're going to a Halloween party tonight, and it's for her outfit.

Officer Bingham: Who's Kesha?

Me: You know, the singer.

Officer Bingham: Never heard of her.

Me: You know....Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy?

Officer Bingham: (who has obviously never woken up feeling like P Diddy any morning his whole life) So how's a bottle of whiskey fit into this?

Me: (sings quietly) Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back...They're the lyrics!

should've had this pic to show the cop

Officer Bingham: So if your friend is dressing up as this Kesha person, who are you going to be?

Me: Snooki.

Officer Bingham: Who?

Me: Really, you should watch more MTV.

Officer Bingham: How about I just write you a ticket.

The End.


FYI This has been a fictional life story. I did not get pulled over by the cops. Or at least, I haven't yet. But the part about the ghost at my school is totally true.

Why No One Will Even Ask Me Out

          I’m staring at his chestnut hair, silently willing him to turn around and look at me, but he won’t. Nobody ever does. I’m too quiet for anybody to notice, too short for a person ten feet away to see, and too dangerous for anybody with half a sense to get close to. I mean, I’ve been marked. Metaphorically, that is. It’s like I’ve got “vampire” written across my forehead, only not, because even though I wear 01 Pale foundation, I like the sunshine and don’t suck blood. Also, I’m the one who needs to be afraid. You see, I’m in protective services, as in, the Witness Protection Program.

The thing about being in witness protection is that people never want to get close to you, because they are pretty sure you will be shot or get kidnapped sometime in the near future. And nobody wants a dead girlfriend. Actually, scratch that—vampires do (you know, after they suck all your blood). But here’s the thing of it, despite the fact that my obituary has shown up in the papers and my social security number is now defunct, I’m very much alive. I just have a new identity, that’s all.

And okay, I get it, why would you want to be with someone whose life is a lie? I have a fake name, fake hair color, and when I first entered, a fake tan as well. But everything in my heart is very real. The good part about being too quiet for people to notice is that when I go out in public, I’m in less danger. The bad part about being too quiet for people to notice is that I find myself sitting behind guys like Jude, wishing they’d turn around and actually see me. Or you know, realize I could be their soul mate (or at least, the me that fake died three years ago could be).

But here’s what happens. Well, actually it goes one of two ways. If the guy ever talks to me, and even shows a hint of liking me, he’s all “hey, are you on Facebook?” And I tell him no. Because why would I plaster my face and info all over the web when there is a group of very mad criminals looking for me? Sure, hey guys, here’s some photos of what I did last weekend, this is where I work, and oh yeah, here are all of my friends so you can kill them too. I think not.

But then let’s say I actually sort of know the guy. Maybe we are budding friends, and I trust him to know this important aspect of my dangerous life. After I’m all “Well, I don’t have Facebook because I’m in the Witness Protection Program, and my name is not really Elle, but I can’t tell you who I really am either. Oh, and if some guys wearing ugly Italian business suits and carrying large briefcases ever show up on your doorstep, tell them you don’t know me,” then the guy is like “Actually, I’m busy next Friday, let’s not do dinner.”

Though it hardly ever gets that far. Like I said, most of the time I just spend staring at the back of their heads. Similar to right now. I’ve known Jude for about eight months, but he hardly ever talks to me, so I guess “know” is a very generous term. Maybe I should instead say I’ve been in close proximity to Jude repeatedly for about eight months, but he probably doesn’t even notice me when I walk right past him. Which you know, is sort of depressing. Especially when you can’t really talk to any of your real friends because they all think you died in a boating accident.

Jude is really beautiful, only I’m certain he would prefer it if I said handsome. Although since he never talks to me and will never read this, I can describe him any way I want. He has dark chestnut hair, and sometimes it sort of curls a bit around his ears. He has a very attractive manly jaw and chin, which is adorable when he occasionally has a bit of stubble on it. Jude’s eyes are like the fourth planet's twin moons, Phobos and Deimos. But the thing that I like most about Jude is that he enjoys traveling to foreign countries, which is comforting to me. Pretend that on an off chance he did talk to me, and he did fall in love with me, and I did get found out by a bunch of fake business men wearing ugly Italian suits, Jude would have no problem leaving this comfortable country behind and hiding with me in some remote village in Malaysia or whatever.

 So here I am, watching Jude from a distance, praying to the Lord in heaven that maybe today he will notice me, which is actually sort of the equivalent to praying that the Pacific Ocean will part when I step into it, or that the water pitcher sitting in my fridge at home will miraculously turn into wine or vodka or something. Because like I said, nobody ever notices me.

I observe as a small group of people crowd around Jude, asking him questions, conversing, and laughing. I watch with envy. Then I decide that I should probably just go home, because obviously today is not the day. Yesterday wasn’t either. I pop into the restroom real quick on my way out. As I’m washing my hands, I evaluate myself in the mirror. Is this really supposed to be my life? All of these charades? But I’ve been living this way for three years. I’ve gotten into the groove of things so much that sometimes I forget that this isn’t really me. That I’m not really some girl named Elle. It’s like maybe this is really a long dream I’m having and soon I will wake up in my own bed and see the people who know the true me. Though I think I’ve sort of forgotten who that is.

Sighing, I open the bathroom door and step out. My stomach jolts as I realize who’s standing two feet in front of me. Jude. Only, it’s his backside. It takes a second and then it is like the heavens breaking open and God himself shining a flashlight down onto Earth. Jude turns around and sees me. A smile spreads across his face as he recognizes me, or at least, I think he does.

“Hi,” he says. “I know I should know you, but I can’t remember your name. What is it again?”

My real name or the name I use now?

“Elle,” I say. “My name is Elle. You know, like the 12^th letter of the alphabet.”

Jude’s eyes crinkle up a bit as he smiles. I try not to stare at his beautiful teeth. If Jude were a moron, I might be afraid that if he ever doodles my name on notebook paper, he’ll spell it El. Or worse yet, L, like that one time I ordered a pizza from Little Caesar’s.  But Jude is quite intelligent. I mean, I’ve had a few conversations with him before, (or at least overheard him talk to other people), and he always sounds quite smart, like maybe he scored pretty well on the verbal part of the SATs his senior year of high school.

“So, Elle. How have you been?”

This is typically the part in an opening conversation where you have to lie. If you don’t know someone well, you really can’t delve into the deeper and more dangerous aspects of your life.

“I’ve been pretty well. How are things going for you?” I reply.

You can obviously see why this conversation never goes anywhere. Neither of us ever reveals anything really worth talking about. And because I don’t know that much about Jude’s actual life, I can’t think to ask about anything he might like to talk about.

“Ah, good. Busy. I’m in the process of moving.”

Oh shit, I think. Because now he’s going to move away and I’ll never see him again and that will be the end to the story that never began.

“Really? Where are you moving to?”

I know a lot about relocation. I mean, I moved about a thousand miles away from where I used to live, didn’t I? If anybody knows about starting over, I do.

“Just to the other side of town,” Jude replies. “By 15th Street.”

I suck in some air. Apparently I had been holding my breath.

I play the biggest card I have, which is low, because it’s like I’m holding a deck of threes and fours.

“There’s a really good little restaurant near 15^th Street. Off of Maple? It’s called Komi. You should definitely go there after you move.”

If this were my dream, or a fictional story that I was writing, then Jude would say “Oh yeah? Maybe we could go sometime.” But this isn’t my dream.

“Yeah? Do you live over there?”

I wish.

“No, but I like to eat there. I live on Clayton Road.”

“You’re an artist, right?” Jude asks, rather randomly. But who am I to judge how the synapses in his brain fire?

“Um, I guess you could say that. I do graphic design work for websites. It’s nice because I get to work from home.”

You know, where I’m safe from the mob.

“That’s cool. Have you ever done CD stuff?” Jude’s eyes brighten. “I have these friends who are trying to release a demo, but they need some cover art.”

An entire three month scenario reels in my head instantly. I could become friends with his friends, do some work for them, get chummy, and then Jude would realize that he should probably spend some one-on-one time with me. You know, in the form of a date.

“Well, I haven’t before, but if your friends are interested, I could meet with them to discuss what kind of aesthetic appeal they’re going for. Do you want to give them my card?”

“Oh sure, that’d be great.”

I root around in my purse as I realize this is the longest individual conversation I’ve ever had with Jude. I open up my wallet and pull one of my cards out of a pocket. I hand it over to him. It has my name and phone number and website printed in a smooth font.

“Thanks so much, Elle,” Jude says.

“No problem,” I smile.

“I’ll see ya,” he says as he turns to leave.

Will he? Will he actually see me? Because I’m here. I’ve been here all along, but whether or not he’s seen me is debatable.

“Bye.” And then I walk away. He still doesn’t know that I like him. Still doesn’t know that we’d probably get along really well, if I could just be straight with him. And I’m still going home without plans for the weekend. But I’m a step closer. I mean, he’s got my number now, hasn’t he? If God hit him over the head with a metaphorical baseball bat while he was sleeping one night, and he woke up thinking “I’ve got to talk to Elle,” he could call me, right?

Once I’m home, I start to replay everything in my mind. Could I have said anything different? Winked maybe? After a bit of thinking, I pull out an album that I keep stashed under my bed. It’s full of pictures of my old life, of the real me, of the people I used to love. Looking at it is quite painful, so I eventually slam it shut and immerse myself in complicated day dreams. What I have to do is envelope myself into fiction. This whole life I’m living isn’t real. I mean, I just made up this whole story, didn’t I?

It's not like I watch vampiric TV shows

Natalie left today. Brittany's not home. I don't have any books from the library. I already went to the gym. So what do I do? Try to fix my TV. It only took four rolls of tin foil, a ladder, a trip to the roof, and some space wave interaction while wearing a special helmet. Kidding. All I had to do was change the channel on the physical TV, instead of on one of three remotes, which can get really confusing.

But then I had to move the antennae around, because we don't have cable and I have to rely on the tv micro chips in space to land on the rabbit ears and form a picture on the screen. I was really excited for the first clear station to come in, which happened to be the CW, formerly the WB with that singing frog. Do you know what is on the CW at 8:30 pm on a Thursday night? The Vampire Diaries, that's what.

Do you know who is on The Vampire Diaries? Only two characters from my two favorite shows of all time, Alias and Lost. Within ten seconds of watching this show, I spotted Ian Somerhalder, who played Boone on Lost, and David Anders, who played Sydney Bristow's pesky enemy Sark on Alias. And okay, neither of these characters were my absolute favorite (though I did like Sark quite a bit, for an evil-plotting-to-ruin-the-world type), but still. They were two characters on two of the best shows of all time. I had to watch.

 Sark from Alias

 Boone from LOST

This is what I could gather from half an episode: Boone and Sark are enemies. They live in a place called Mystic Falls. Boone is a vampire. He has a younger brother who is very hot and also a vampire. Boone's little brother (Stefan) likes to touch the wounds of injured women and then lick their blood off of his fingers. Stefan is in high school and has a mortal girlfriend. She wants to kiss him but he's afraid of what he might do to her (i.e, suck her blood and kill her). She trusts him though, so they end up making out. Then this other guy finds somebody's diary. I think it was the girlfriend's. There's a magic ring involved somehow. Boone likes to drink human blood but his brother Stefan is trying to restrain himself. Apparently he's done so for years. And now he's throwing it all away for some woman's head wound.

It is at this time that I would just like to pull an Insatiable quote, which I've posted before. Main character Meena Harper says, "Vampires always seem to choose to prey on pretty female victims. And yet for some reason women find this sexy. The idea that they’re nobly restraining themselves from killing is supposed to be attractive? Excuse me, but how is knowing a guy wants to kill you hot?"

Because this is what it's like: hot vampire Stefan (who is supposed to be in high school but looks 25 but is actually 28 in real life(I IMBDd him)) goes around being in love with this high school girl, but he wants to seriously suck some blood. Only he calls it "feeding" which makes it sound even worse, like he's a piranha in the fish tank that needs some hamburger. His face starts to crack when he's craving blood, and the expression on his face when he does drink blood is quite inappropriate. Like maybe he's enjoying it a little too much. To which I'm like "What the hell? Can't you find something else to eat?" I mean, I can understand some cravings. When I crave Chinese fried rice, I can get quite monstrous. I'll think about it all day and believe I just have to have it. But then feed me some pizza instead and I forget about it. So that's why I tell Stefan Salvatore, "go to Pizza Hut and order a deep dish." Surely it can't be that bad. And okay, maybe human blood to him is more like coke to a drug addict, but still. There's rehab for that.

Meg Cabot Interview

Make sure you read the "Insatiable" post first. It's below this one.

As much as I would love to contact Meg personally, this is a lot faster. Here are the good parts of an interview she did with Oxford University Press Blog. To read the whole thing, click here.

OUP: If you were bitten tomorrow, and had to choose a vampire name, what would it be?
MC: Well, obviously, Meg Cadaver.
OUP: If someone attacked “Meg Cadaver” with a stake, and you only had Dracula to block the blow, would it work?
MC: Absolutely.  My super vampire strength, combined with the amazing power of Bram Stoker’s prose, would easily defeat their piddling human arm and wooden stake that was probably made by Ikea.
OUP: If Dracula had a Twitter handle, what would it be?
MC: The possibilities are so endless . . .
Longinthetooth
Vampyvlad
Undeaddandy
CoffinCasanova
Although personally, I’d probably go with a simple 8U.
OUP: What is the most fascinating thing about vampires?
MC: They never seem to die.
OUP: What is the most boring thing about vampires?
MC: They never seem to die.
OUP: I’m upset that most modern vampires don’t wear cloaks. How do you feel about this?
MC: I agree.  In Insatiable, I gave my vampire a black Burberry trench coat, the tail of which flapped around a lot in the wind during moments of high tension, to give the impression of a cloak.  But it’s definitely not the same thing. In my defense, the only way to give a vampire a cloak in a book set in modern times and not have him stand out like a big freak is to either make him be an eccentric bestselling author, have live him in the subway tunnels of NYC with the mole people, or have him work at a Medieval Times restaurant.  None of these are particularly appealing options, especially the first.

Clearly, you can see why reading her books are so utterly entertaining. Pick one up.

Insatiable

I finished reading Insatiable two days ago. It's written by Meg Cabot. I know the cover makes it look like this is a super smutty romance novel (with maybe some dagger stabbing involved), but it's not really. I laughed about every other page. I'm thinking about buying a copy and mailing it to Stephanie Meyer, author of Twilight. Why you ask?

Well, here is Insatiable's general plot line: The main character, Meena, is a dialogue writer for a soap opera called--you guessed it--Insatiable. She's fighting for a promotion, but then finds out that her skinny bitch co-worker gets it instead. The boss explains that Insatiable is competing with vampire shows, such as Lust (which is obviously in reference to shows like The Vampire Diaries and True Blood). Their ratings are going to die if they don't do something, which is why the network has requested that they go "all vampire, all the time."

Only thing is, Meena hates vampires. She thinks the media hype over them is ridiculous. She's totally sick of hearing about them and watching them on TV. Since she's one of the writers, she starts planning how she can introduce a new character to kill off the vampire character that her co-worker created. Here are her thoughts:
"Vampires always seem to choose to prey on pretty female victims. And yet for some reason women find this sexy. The idea that they’re nobly restraining themselves from killing is supposed to be attractive? Excuse me, but how is knowing a guy wants to kill you hot?"

I won't reveal everything, but you should also know that Meena later meets a handsome Romanian professor and begins to get suspicious about him.

This is my favorite part.

And Alaric was very fond of his sword, Señor Sticky. The blade, unlike humans, did not lie. It didn't cheat, and it didn't discriminate...even if vampires were stupid. Especially American vampires. They hung out in places Alaric himself would never have gone, especially if he were immortal. Such as high schools. And Walmart.  --pg 28

In your face, Twilight.

I seriously think Meg Cabot wrote this as a parody. I recommend this book to you if you've read Twilight, because that will make it all the more humorous. I also recommend this book to you if you haven't read Twilight, because you and Meena probably share the same sentiments.

Tomorrow: an interview with Meg Cabot.

Ikea Furniture/ Edward update

Every wonder what piece of furniture you might be? Bed, dresser, lamp? If you were for sale at Ikea, what Swedish name would you possess? Find out by clicking here.

This is mine:

I think it's like a metaphor or something. I'm a chest of drawers because I hide a lot of crap. And I'm short.

EDWARD UPDATE: Remember how Stephanie Myers sucks? I watched this video clip on MTV where Robert Pattinson was getting interviewed on whether or not he thought having Breaking Dawn divided into two movies was a good idea or not. He said he didn't really know because he hasn't read the book yet. Hello, people! Robert Pattinson, the very embodiment of Edward himself, has not even read all of the Twilight books. What does that tell you?

Oh, Edward!

A Twilight book review

Okay, so I finally dragged myself onto the bandwagon and read Twilight. I admit, I wanted to know what it was all about. Are you ready? Do you want to know what it was all about? Edward's eyes. You cannot read two pages of Twilight and not encounter some reference to Edward's eyes at least four times.

For example:
he measured me with his eyes
his eyes turned somber
he dazzled me with his gaze
I saw a trace of humor in his eyes
his eyes were fierce
his eyes slid back to mine
he peered from under his lashes
our eyes held
he continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes 
his gentle eyes
watchful eyes
anxious gaze
eyes were suddenly furious
he rolled his eyes
he was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes
shrewd eyes
his eyes burned with sincerity
eyes opened with surprise
eyes were scrutinizing my reaction
unfair smoldering of the eyes
I was disoriented again by the force of his gold-colored eyes 
playful eyes
his eyes were liquid topaz
his eyes managed to smolder even though it was dark
even though his eyes were shut, they burned to my soul
although his eyes had been ripped out of their sockets and were lying in a bloody heap on the ground, they managed to smolder


Okay, so I added the very last one. But that's it. You can see that Edward has very talented eyes.

Now, I admit, a vampire in love with a mortal is an interesting concept. Your true love wants to suck your blood. The idea is good. Stephanie Myers' writing? Not so much. The vocabulary and sentence structure is lame (and okay, maybe mine is too, but at least I know it and can recognize when an author does/does not do a good job). The chapters are endlessly long. The plot is slow. I found myself skipping ahead trying to look for the good parts. After chapter four I took a break and watched both of the Twilight movies, to end the pain.

 Edward's eyes always make him look like he's on crack.

But I tell you, I finish what I start, so I read the whole book through, even if it took me awhile. And okay, maybe the last two chapters were actually a little intense, even though I knew how it ended.

And I will confess to you, even though Stephanie Myers sucks, and Robert Pattinson's eyes are creepy and not at all hot or smolderng in his Edward portrayal, I may read another Twilight book, or watch another movie. Just you know, to see if Myers improves at all.

And whatever, she is making loads of money off of her crappy writing. I shouldn't be dissing. I am not making loads of money off of my crappy writing, but now I do have hope. Hope that it can be done. All I need is a character with smoldering eyes.

P.S. Ironically, the book I am reading now also has a main character named Edward. It's The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo, who is a much better writer than Stephanie Myers.

P.S.S. When I was reading Twilight, my roommate would call through my shut door "Edwaaard!" in this accent-y voice, which was hilarious.