I've never cried at a movie and I can only think of 2 books that have ever made me cry. I can now bump that number up to 3. If you haven't read Deadline by Chris Crutcher and want to, stop reading here, because I'm totally spoiling the ending here.

When I first picked up Deadline, I thought it would be a good book about a guy living through his senior year of high school thinking that he would die in a year from the terminal illness that he discovered he had at the beginning of the book. And of course, near the end just when you thought he would die, a miracle cure would be found or he would find out that the doctors got the blood samples mixed up and that the guy never actually had the illness to begin with. The guy will live on into the cliche happily-ever-after.

But no.

Instead, Crutcher spends over 300 pages getting you to know this cool little midget of an 18 year old. Those entire first 300+ pages are told in first person from the sick guy's point of view. You see his determination in making his last year the best yet, his confusion about when to tell poeple, especially his family, about his illness, his excitement when he finally gets the guts to talk to the girl of his dreams, and his regret when he falls in love with her.

And then BAM! Next thing you know, you've passed those first 300 pages and are at the epilogue, where his brother, who was in the same grade, is reading something this guy wrote before he died, at his senior graduation, because our beloved main character managed to die only one week before.

I love this book and I hate this book and I love this book even more because I hate this book. I can't even explain it to you. But you've got to appreciate those books that touch you so much that you cry. You just gotta.

The complex infrastructure known as the felmale mind

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

I love this quote. I have no idea who said it, though I'm sure I could find out. But alas, I am too lazy at this exact moment. Whoever it was had some pretty deep insight, though. Or has had quite the experience first-hand.

But it works the other way, too. I mean, a man scorned is just as, if not more furious than a woman scorned. But then again, in the times that they used language like "hath", it was mostly the men doing the scorning because women were practically bred to obey and bow down to men. But hey, we're women. So naturally we found ways to deal the vengeful death-blow with a polite smile on our faces and no one the wiser.

That's one of the things I love about our gender. And hate. But the constant back-stabbing between women and the rest of the world keeps us always alert. Never a dull moment.

Speaking of women and back-stabbing, what is it with us? Why do we feel the need to not only hurt other people so much, but to do it on the sly, keeping the relationship good on the surface where others can see it?

I know that I do it, when provoked. I think everyone does.

Que triste.

The new Wednsday Night Tradition

Have you ever gone to A&W and got their unlimited Frosty Mugs? They give you giant Mugs that have been iced and let you fill up your own glass with root beer as many times as you want. It's cheap, it's cold, and it's delicious.

Last night a few of my friends and I went over to A&W for the amazing unlimited beverages before heading over to the church for youth group, and, naturally since 3 of those friends were guys, there was a contest to see who could down the most root beer.
I was one of the four who participated, and I drank almost 4 mugs. Since each mug is about the equivalent of 2 cans, that means I drank almost 8 cans of root beer in an hour. And the sad part is, I didn't even win. I took third place.

When we got to the church, we all instantly headed for the bathrooms and threw up our ridiculously full stomachs. I felt much better after that but still not very great.

Though I have to say that if I had the chance to go back and do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing. It felt good to be up there with the guys, chugging root beer, instead of sitting back and only drinking a mug or so like the other two girls in our group.

Desperation

You know how it is when you find one of those amazing books that you just can't put down? The ones that you finish in only a couple days because it's just that amazing? And then you spend the next couple days finding out what else the author has written just for another of those amazing books?

Yeah, I haven't had one of those in a while. So to make up for the lack of ridiculessly good books, I've beeen re-reading all the other ones that I've aquired, like the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer and Crown Duel by Sherwood Smith.

And while these are all absolutely fabulous books, I still really just want another book like that that I haven't read already and know exactly what happens. I mean, as great as the books are, the mystery is gone.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

this is why man invented dictionaries

What is the definition of an evil person? I guess that it would sort of depend on who you ask. Like, if you asked an athiest, they would probably give an answer saying something along the lines of an evil person being defined by whether or not their actions are evil. If you ask a christian, they would probably tell you something similar to the idea that no person is evil, but a person's actions are.

But then you get into the whole arguement of what the definition of evil is. Being a christian myself, I consider evil to be a wrong-doing in the eyes of God. I realize that that sounds a little extreme, but I think that our culture greatly emphasizes evil being something really serious, like murder.

Do I believe any one person is truly evil? No. I believe that all people are born with God's laws on their hearts. Unfortunately, other influences help decide how well each person listens to those laws.

This also brings personal morals into the subject, but I don't want to get into that right now. Expect a rant soon, though.

music with attitude

I'm sure that pretty much everyone understands that a persons taste in music mostly depends on their mood at that exact moment. I also understand this, but I don't understand why.

I mean, music is music. Once you decide that you like a certain type, it shouldn't matter when you play it or not, right? But it does. Like, right now as I'm writing this, I'm listening to Family Force 5. A little bit harder rock, but not like, say, screamo. I'm playing it because I'm not in a ridiculessly good mood, but in a bad enough mood to play, say, Underoath. (Not that I would really play Underoath even if I was in a really bad mood. I mean, it's not that I don't like them, but they're more comic relief for me than anger relief. Sorry to those out there that love Unederoath, but you have to admit that the different extremes in their voices as they switch off screaming is pretty funny.)

So what is it with playing the peppy pop/techno songs only when you're in an up-beat mood? Or only playing... well, nevermind. I don't think there is a mood for country (again, no offense).

Or maybe it actually has very little to do with the actual music and everything to do with the lyrics. Because, after all, who wants to listen to "Everytime We Touch" when they just had a huge fight with their parents or something?

Honestly, it's probably a little of both. When I'm angry, I want something with a strong bass that I can feel pulsing, but I also like the lyrics relating to what I'm feeling.

I hate to say it, but this whole thing just ties into that old saying that they shove down our throats from the time we can walk till we move out, and sometimes even longer than that.

"It's all about the attitude."

closing this subject

Okay, I've definitely passed my "few days" promise. That's because I still have no idea what I think on the subject.

Well, that's a lie. What I do know is that poetry is a dying art. Not many like it or try to understand it to the degree that the author probably meant. So if you have taken the time to put down your thoughts in such an organized manner, then you probably like/understand poetry and wish to keep it alive.

Whether you're genuine in the feelings that you put down or not, I guess it doesn't really matter. Because as long as the reader gets something good out of the poem, then that's what makes it a work of art.

Art? Or an attempt at intelligence?

Poetry is often described as art.

Art is an expression of feeling.

Some would argue that that is exactly what poetry is. But you have to wonder, if the poet really had so much emotion that he/she felt the need to put it down on paper in some shape or form, then why wouldn't they just put it down raw, in it's most powerful form? Because that is, in essence, what the poet wants. For someone to feel what they're feeling.

Unless the poet is merely looking for recognition. Which, I guarantee, there are plenty like that out there.

But then, isn't that what every poet wants? Otherwise why would they publish their works?Everyone wants to be respected and recognized for going above and beyond. And since very few completely understand (or even try to understand) the large and flowery words of poetry, a person could put together a jumble of what-not and possibly be considered a fairly in-depth person. An appealing idea.

And then there are those who only want the recognition, but actually do know what they're talking about. And talk about it very well.

So where is the line between poetry that a person writes to express themselves to the world, and the poetry that a person writes just for the name that it gives them?

I am so confused. Give me a day or two to get my thoughts together.

the muse asylum

Has anyone else read this book? I'm in the process of reading it right now and... wow. I'm not even sure what to say about it. One particular passage in the book is told from the perspective of a man in the hospital for insanity. Here's part of the passage:

"In retrospect, I can see there were countless souls struggling to control my actions. I call this the Darwinism of Souls. At birth, we are fitted with a multitude of souls. As we grow, those souls that are unfit shrivel and die, as a result of the circumstances in which the body finds itself. Finally one soul wins and defines the personality. How often have we thought it as if different souls inhabited the same child, so changeable were its actions and thoughts? In the physiological world, the Darwinian process leads to the formation of wonderful and complex phenomena such as the eye. In the psychological world, this process leads to the formation of an object no less phenomenal- the individual."

I've always heard about Natural Selection, the idea that the earth chooses its inhabitants by who can survive. You know, survival of the fittest. But in my mind, that concept has always been for the physical world. For animals and for us humans. But the idea that each person is born with several souls and the one that wins out is the one that defines our personality... is mind-boggling.

"The souls that govern in our youth are so numerous and fractious that the records are confused. There are no permanent memories because they belong to the souls that perish."

One might argue that the reason our memories of being a child are so blurry or even non-existent is because our brains are in their beginning stages and don't have the ability or capacity to retain that kind of information for long periods of time. I would agree with this. But our personality is based off of the frontal lobe in our brain, which doesn't actually fully develop until about age 25. It's kind of interesting to think about.

Now I'm not at all saying that I believe the theory. Quite the opposite. I sincerely believe that we were born with one soul and that soul stays with us throughout our entire life.

There are some holes in the theory too. Like, how would you explain how we continue to lose our memories even once we pass that age of 25 where our personalities would by then be fully developed? And then there's always the question of what happens to all those extra souls. Where do they go once the final soul has won out?

I wonder who came up with this theory in the first place. It would be cool if it was the author, but I doubt it. Hmm. Maybe I'll do some research on it.

Meanwhile, here's another little tidbit from the same character in the same book:

"I recently read that every action, every decision, splits the universe in two. In one resultant universe, choice A is made, in the other, choice B. This is repeated ad nauseam for every decision ever made, including the "decisions" of apparently non sentient particles governed by the dictates of quantum mechanics."

Can you imagine? If every decision ever made resulted in alternate universes where you made all other possible decisions in that situation, whether it be deciding to eat a peanut butter or bologna sandwich for lunch, or deciding to answer the phone after 5 seconds instead of, say, 4, there would be an infinite amount of universes out there just from one dicision. And that's just for one person. How many universes would be out there for every decision ever made by every human on the planet? Heck, why limit it to humans? What about every living creature?

And if that were true? How would one know which the original universe was? Is it the one I'm living in right now? What if the life I'm living right now is just someone else's choice B?

The implications are terrifying.

First Post!

I really wish that I had something exciting to blog about. Something to say that would actually interest someone other than myself. But really, this is sort of just my celebration post at finally joining the blog world. And kind of a trial run. You know, just to see how it goes.