tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50099616247814989002024-02-19T17:41:14.974-08:00My Literary Love LifeBook reviews...
and occasional life updatesnotablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-52786487121076442912011-01-07T15:53:00.000-08:002011-01-07T15:53:16.815-08:00I've MovedMy Blogspot and I finally got tired of fighting with each other over formatting and font sizes and have decided to part ways. I can be found here now:<br />
<br />
http://notablyindigo.tumblr.com/<br />
<br />
I'm thinking about continuing to post book reviews here, but until I decide, see my Tumblr for updates (if you want to :P).notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-77139986195392800102010-12-19T17:08:00.000-08:002010-12-19T17:24:05.039-08:00Book 18: Howl's Moving Castle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefm5AyeQjfRUhBd81n7bqNgOLNkNaR-FxOSRY616flSh7ZwSK1pGWIuHt76W0npORxByBdcqH9CKc5jJvDVJUwUxOtGJAGialrGvA1_GtsvWar7N0uPPdHpQDXQeqzWhMu00W330ER2w/s1600/Howl-s-Moving-Castle-9780061478789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiefm5AyeQjfRUhBd81n7bqNgOLNkNaR-FxOSRY616flSh7ZwSK1pGWIuHt76W0npORxByBdcqH9CKc5jJvDVJUwUxOtGJAGialrGvA1_GtsvWar7N0uPPdHpQDXQeqzWhMu00W330ER2w/s400/Howl-s-Moving-Castle-9780061478789.jpg" width="268" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Finals just ended, and as a reward for a full week's worth of focused studying I picked up </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Howl's Moving Castle </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">by Diana Wynne Jones from the college library for a fun bit of reading. I read it years ago in high school after watching (and loving) the Hiyao Miyazaki film adaptation and wasn't terribly thrilled by the novel, but I was feeling optimistic after my final exams and decided to give the book a second chance.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm so glad I did!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don't think I was reading diligently at all the first time around if I didn't like it then, beacuse I found it to be an absolute delight as I tore through it over the last couple of days. I love the whimsy of the concept and the wit of the characters. I often criticize Jones for employing a rather turbid writing style, but I found </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Howl's Moving Castle </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">to have a clarity that that other books of hers seem to lack. You have to read the book with some care to really glean the motivations and emotions of the characters (they're all quite British even if the story takes place in an imaginary country, so of course they never quite say what they mean), but it's completely worth it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Now, the plot!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The main character is a young lady named Sophie Hatter who has decided that she is destined for failure due to the fact that she is the eldest of three (think about it--what fairy tale have you ever heard of in which the eldest child is successful? It's always the youngest, of course). While her two sisters go off to seek their fortunes, she remains behind in her hometown, tending to the hat shop that her recently deceased father owned before he died. Sophie is all set to live a quiet, mouse-like existence until she finds herself in the line of fire of the evil Witch of the Waste, who curses her and turns her into an old lady. In order to break the spell, Sophie sets off to the roving castle of Wizard Howl to seek his help, and finds herself entangled in the affairs of his strange, enchanted household.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIbf6dTXuClVKiZ5gaAXol5EUR-RUFQ_Wi8p6D9Hl3g6wJ6850AphmHRKnQwPjtxeyQuNY8dUmRndojxSjKJly2Wc2DU9mIyF4003IEQhro31EiaTdBPJpewmr0xz96Qq0X7U4sTUQRI/s1600/USA_full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIbf6dTXuClVKiZ5gaAXol5EUR-RUFQ_Wi8p6D9Hl3g6wJ6850AphmHRKnQwPjtxeyQuNY8dUmRndojxSjKJly2Wc2DU9mIyF4003IEQhro31EiaTdBPJpewmr0xz96Qq0X7U4sTUQRI/s320/USA_full.jpg" width="215" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The film adaptation by the same name is actually one of my favorite movies ever, but I prefer the book, since the story is more complete and the characters are a good deal more compelling. Sophie and Howl in the book are a lot more fun than they are in the movie (they're just to darn nice in Miyazaki's version). They both have a lot more personality and engage in a lot of that witty, snarky banter that I just love. Still, the animation in the film is absolutely gorgeous, and the voice acting in both English and Japanese is brilliant (it doesn't hurt that Christian Bale plays Howl in the English dub. What a hottie!). In the end I've come to see the film and the novel as separate creative entities.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And they're both </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">fabulous.</span></i>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-23674754100863102182010-12-10T00:00:00.000-08:002010-12-10T00:54:13.670-08:00Anniversaries<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 15px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." ~Confucius</span></span></b></span></div></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I discovered this quote in late May of this year, in the epitaph of a book I was reading. Though the book itself ended up being no good, I found this saying of Confucius' to be pretty neat so I jotted it down on a piece of paper and tucked it away somewhere. I don't want to say that it "came in handy" this summer, but it definitely applied.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As of today it's been six months since the passing of my beloved Golden Retriever, Shadow. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He came into our home in April of 2000, a new presence in our lives during a time when we had just lost a close family friend and were facing the end of another's battle with cancer. My family had just moved to a new neighborhood forty miles away from our old neighborhood, and finally getting the dog my brother and I had been asking for (and which our previous house couldn't have accommodated) was our solace. The three of us--Shadow, my brother, and I--grew up together, and while he was theoretically our dog, Shadow took to our mom immediately. She became his Person, and he remained unyieldingly loyal to her for his entire life.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shadow saw us through a lot of funny stories, like the time he literally ate my homework, or the time when he drank a pot of oil my mom had used to try dumplings and cheerfully wreaked havoc from both ends for a week. He absolutely loved fruit and was always sneaking into our neighbor's orchard for the apples and pears that fell from the trees in summertime. Going running with my dad thrilled him, even though he would get bored or tired quickly, and he was endlessly patient even when my brother and I went out of our way to annoy him. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I went home for spring break in April, he was fine. And then he wasn't. He declined suddenly, within the span of less than a month, while I spending my summer working in an on-campus lab four hundred miles away from home. I wasn't there to watch him get sicker and sicker, but I heard about it from my parents. It started out as stiffness in his hind legs. A loss of appetite. Then a fever. And then the vet said cancer. We didn't want to do the scans or biopsies to confirm. What was the point? "He's too old," the vet told us, "to be a candidate for surgery." And we weren't about to put our ten-year-old dog--the equivalent to an eighty-year-old man--through chemotherapy. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I saw him twice before he died, on brief weekend visits, and flew home one last time to be with him in the vet's office when we had to let him go. It was quick, and I was holding him, and I felt it when his heart stopped beating and his pain finally ended. Two days later, I went back to campus and returned to work. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What followed was the worst summer of my life. I wasn't alone on campus, but I felt alone even when I was with my friends. I spent most of my time in my basement lab, where I was typically the only person working, and even when the other girls were there they didn't really talk to me. I've never felt more empty. My parents, troopers that they are, healed fast and by my next visit home they were fine even though I wasn't. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We're not so good at talking about grief. No one is. All we're ever taught to do is be strong and bottle it up. The stiff upper lip and all that. No one's ever taught us what we're supposed to do with our sorrow, our rage. Unaddressed and unexpressed, it has nowhere to go but deeper into oneself. It becomes a part of our identity, this grief. And we think that's a legitimate way of dealing with it. If you bury it deep where no one can see it, that's got to mean it's gone, right? </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">? </span></i></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've healed to the point that I can write this without crying now, but I can't downplay the tightness I'm feeling in my throat and chest. At six months, my grief is lighter now--less like an open wound and more like a scar. Other people won't know it's there (I can pet other peoples' dogs now without tearing up, and I suppose that's progress), but I know it's there and I have a feeling that it always will be. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, in our own grief we forget about that of others. While I was home over Thanksgiving, my little brother broke down and cried in the car when I was driving him home. I hadn't realized how much he still missed Shadow until then. </span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not of the belief that dead people or things can hear you, but since Shadow died I've made something of an exception for him. So, darling boy, if you've got access to the Internet in Dog Paradise or wherever you are, hugs and kisses and MilkBones to you from me. Miss you, sweetling.</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPzWVkZUp11fEm_vLAu4ztJB-K3kEtnRrm99YWSvW0WphTWu36RrJWmJWdfz-5FJAfoX2WmWR_U_kzFNj4dCyZ9Z3D0E3DNwl_pCsE2nm_KdeVg12g-Q1UeM3-iIORF0wktVW22Fi6ew/s1600/29909_1408555487350_1036320172_31098345_7815619_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPzWVkZUp11fEm_vLAu4ztJB-K3kEtnRrm99YWSvW0WphTWu36RrJWmJWdfz-5FJAfoX2WmWR_U_kzFNj4dCyZ9Z3D0E3DNwl_pCsE2nm_KdeVg12g-Q1UeM3-iIORF0wktVW22Fi6ew/s320/29909_1408555487350_1036320172_31098345_7815619_n.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-27679075641249365362010-10-23T22:34:00.000-07:002010-10-30T12:25:05.774-07:00Book 17: Memoirs of a Geisha<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.examiner.com/images/blog/EXID14530/images/memoirs_of_a_geisha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.examiner.com/images/blog/EXID14530/images/memoirs_of_a_geisha.jpg" width="208" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When a novel is adapted into a film, I almost invariably find the written version more appealing. It might just be one of those elitist things that comes with the territory of being a longtime book-lover; you somehow always come to believe that your imagination is more accurate and on-point than the other guy's. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">However, through pretty much no fault of its own, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs of a Geisha </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">as a novel is, in my books (ha ha ha, puns!), surpassed by the silver screen's version. I think a lot of this has to do with the way the movie adeptly brings to life all the colors and sounds of the world that </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Golden"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Golden</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> strives to portray in his writing. </span><a href="http://www.johnwilliams.org/index.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> John Williams</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">' arrestingly lovely accompanying score doesn't hurt either. In any case, the novel is significantly improved upon in the film, which I find to be a good thing. After all, isn't that why screen adaptations of books are made in the first place? (And that noise you hear is Hollywood responding with a resounding "NO". Clearly.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At its core, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is a novel about overcoming adversity. It tells the story of one geisha's dogged pursuit of love and happiness in the face of career challenges, political turmoil, and bitter rivalries. Narrated from the perspective of retired geisha Nitta Sayuri, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> paints an elegant picture of the colorful, separate reality--the "flower and willow world"--in which geisha once lived and worked. It was the imagery that drew me in most of all; Golden's descriptions of the settings and costumes are vivid and arresting. I found myself reading late into the night, just to get a "glimpse" of another one of Sayuri's kimono. I've always been fascinated by Japanese culture, and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs of a Geisha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> definitely fed that fascination. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The novel also impressed me because it read like an actual memoir. It is written in such a manner that it is easy to forget that it is, in fact, a work of fiction. The book even begins with a (fictional) note from the translator. For the five days it took me to read this book (which makes it a quick read, considering the fact that I'm a full-time student), I was absolutely ensnared by the world that Golden creates with his prose. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That being said, the book definitely has its flaws. While </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is a good introduction into certain concepts within Japanese culture and the geisha subculture, it is clearly a novel written by an American. Rather than being introduced and incorporated subtly, many of the cultural elements are addressed with a heavy-handedness that is sometimes jarring. It is clear in these instances that Golden is trying to prove that he did his research. He works hard to capture a Japanese "voice", and it's sort of hit-or-miss throughout the novel. The characters were also kind of flat to me. Even Sayuri, in spite of being the protagonist, is generally lacking in depth and definition. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.asiaarts.ucla.edu/media/images/memoirs%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.asiaarts.ucla.edu/media/images/memoirs%203.jpg" width="237" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I do in some respects feel like the movie did it better; the characters are more real, and even the plot was executed more capably in the film than it was in the novel. The screenwriters made changes to the plot that even I, as a purist when it comes to film adaptations, approve of. The changes heightened the drama and improved the pacing, and these are changes which I wish Golden's editor would have made.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In any case, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs of a Geisha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is a fine book and a fine film. While both provide a relatively good primer on Eastern culture and philosophy, they are both works of historical </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">fiction, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and this is a fact that is important to take into account. As long as readers/viewers keep this in mind and don't try to take </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Memoirs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> at anything more than its face value, they will enjoy and benefit from their experience. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Grade: B+</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rating: 13 and up, for some (relatively vague) sexual content</span>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-88243120925726777872010-09-16T17:02:00.000-07:002010-09-16T17:02:34.763-07:00Today (Phoenix)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today is the two-year anniversary of my grandmother's death. I wrote this poem a week after she died in 2008. It seems like it's been forever now.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">-----------------</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember you in joy;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In laughter,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In echoes of voices, reminiscent foods</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And silk that still smells like your skin.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Strange is the relief blooming now</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Where grief, even in life, gnawed.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Silent is this journey's ending,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Which we take as fate.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Curious, the lack of the black rage,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For where I could not see before,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You are everywhere now;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Soft, golden, sunlit.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Full.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And even as weeping--so cathartic--</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cleanses backwards,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Spreading dirt to leave a snowy soul,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can say nothing but "good night"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And wish you, the hero, safe travels to Valhalla;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No longer wasted, as in armored battle, but</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Resplendent, glowing.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eternally alive.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The phoenix of my dreams.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brave warrior,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dearest heart,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To where do you go now?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">-----------------------------------------------</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Someday we'll all be gone,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But lullabies go on and on.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They never die--</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That's how you and I will be..."</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">~Lullaby by Billy Joel</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvQ2nidGjkqzUL0S5CvEOi_zkszhZjHpzSQSux-kZRpHCWXzbsGb4JE_JdbG1cSY3ViGXzAnd5IaDAVFE8SrnZYPWhQgpkjl5aHm7ILPARwBfrF-KknhFECra5jszdKPeNMgl4Q8TGTw/s1600/Picture+185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvQ2nidGjkqzUL0S5CvEOi_zkszhZjHpzSQSux-kZRpHCWXzbsGb4JE_JdbG1cSY3ViGXzAnd5IaDAVFE8SrnZYPWhQgpkjl5aHm7ILPARwBfrF-KknhFECra5jszdKPeNMgl4Q8TGTw/s320/Picture+185.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-16562827421705712522010-09-11T00:32:00.000-07:002010-09-11T00:36:43.015-07:00Book 16: The Pillars of the Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5R8SWZ57zcsKSdsNNNfYuxRJ9fc8sLF0V8AsmNIzG_pM7Tvs0eQu9jYZFJ1yh-h75OpgZoLFbr44Z999N-Nscu7vl3dBGycqjHPUjkX41jBFEboisVzKOCNCVhSLPUvvzU1I9Oc1zL0/s1600/5043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5R8SWZ57zcsKSdsNNNfYuxRJ9fc8sLF0V8AsmNIzG_pM7Tvs0eQu9jYZFJ1yh-h75OpgZoLFbr44Z999N-Nscu7vl3dBGycqjHPUjkX41jBFEboisVzKOCNCVhSLPUvvzU1I9Oc1zL0/s320/5043.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a good two months of slow, painstaking reading, I have finally finished reading </span><a href="http://www.ken-follett.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ken Follett's</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> novel, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Pillars of the Earth</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. The time it took me to finish the book reflects in no way upon the book itself, but upon the fact that I hadn't had much time to read until recently. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pillars of the Earth</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is almost 1000-pages long and spans over fifty years of medieval history. If you've seen Paul Haggis' 2004 film, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crash_(2004_film)"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Crash</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, then you'll be familiar with the broad idea of the novel. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pillars </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">takes characters from many different walks of life and unites their lives, ambitions, and story lines in one town, with the building of a cathedral church. Their affairs tangle together quickly and become inexorably linked, which is what drives the novel's plot. The book is also like Robert Bloch's </span><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psycho_(novel)"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Psycho</span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in that it is divided into two parts, each of which is presided over by a different protagonist.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The novel partially takes place during a period in history known as </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Anarchy"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Anarchy</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">--a nineteen year-long war of succession between King Stephen (also known as Stephen the Usurper) and the Empress Maud following the death of the King Henry's heir, William, aboard the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Ship"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">White Ship</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, which sank off the coast of France in the year 1120. This incident plays a major role in the political undercurrents which guide the novel's plot (and, besides, is a really interesting era of British history on its own). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And now for an attempt at a spoiler-free plot summary... I suppose I could come up with some keywords and list them in vague order of appearance. Here goes:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">public execution, perjury, maternal morbidity, attempted infanticide, <b>treason</b>, invasion, ecclesiastical trickery, ruination, bribery, <b>LOTS OF WAR,</b> arson, architecture, political cunning, building, <b>evil plot</b>s, self-denial, oopsies-babies, <b>epic love stories</b>, more evil plots, global travel, epic disaster, more war, <b>murder</b>, royal succession, court disputes, marriage, divorce, skirmishes, <b>religious miracles</b>, science, public execution, changing the church forever</span></blockquote></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ok, the order sort of went to crap towards the middle of the list, but it was spot-on at the beginning and end. Anyway, there is a LOT that happens, to say the least. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are many things that I love about this book. The characters are strong, and although some of them ended up being written too black-and-white for my taste, they are written vividly and well. The settings are also stunningly portrayed. Follett has a real knack for writing engagingly about architecture, of all things, and paints beautiful pictures with his words. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The plot is also strong in that it honestly does have something for everyone. Follett keeps the action varied, and in doing so engages his audience even further. As in 'Crash', the end of the novel sees all the threads coming back together to form a complete, intricate tapestry of intersecting lives and worlds. The melding of political intrigue, war, religious zeal, and iron-willed industry and innovation is evocative and intriguing. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I further analyze my fascination with this book, I have to admit that I've always had a weird, distant sort of fascination with the concept of a God. I don't consider myself a believer in much other than science and people, but I definitely found myself interested by the frequently-mentioned theme of "God's will". Watch out. Some day, when I write a post about </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">East of Eden</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, this idea--the idea of human will versus what is construed as the will of God--will come up again. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In summary, I looooved </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Pillars of the Earth</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, and I'll read it again as soon as I get a chance. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Grade: A</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rating: 15+, for language and strong adult content (definitely took me by surprise)</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.daemonstv.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/pillars_of_the_earth_the_2010_key04_6x4-550x366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://media.daemonstv.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/pillars_of_the_earth_the_2010_key04_6x4-550x366.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since finishing the book I've also had the chance to watch the recent STARZ channel series. I was fully aware before I started watching that it wasn't going to be great, since trying to cram such a huge book into a few one-hour episodes was definitely not going to happen. However, I wasn't expecting to be quite so disappointed. They drastically changed the fates of certain characters, cut out major themes, and added some really awkward undertones to certain character dynamics (hello, incest?). The one thing that I felt the series was good for was the portrayal of England at the time. While Follet's writing provided me with a lot of fabulous mental images, it was nice to have some of the corroborated by actual visuals. If you haven't read the book and have watched the series, I implore you not to judge a novel by its screen adaptation. The book is a zillion times better.</span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-32967039312315599142010-08-30T01:19:00.000-07:002010-08-30T01:20:55.505-07:00New Year<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I never bothered to work on drumming up traffic for this sodding blog, so it's no surprise that I'm the only one who reads it. Not sure why I actually bother posting here, but I think it has more than a little to do with narcissism. Meh. At least I have my own little corner of the Interwebs.</span><br />
<div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This has been a strange summer and, honestly, I could've gone without pretty much 100% of it. Very little happened that I actually enjoyed, and a great lot of it was actually pretty crappy. I learned things, I guess, but it was mostly stuff I wish I hadn't had to learn. People suck, even (especially?) when they're related to you. No matter how many times you experience loss, it never gets easy. Folks don't communicate nearly as well as you think they do. Just because you're nice to someone doesn't mean they aren't going to be an ass in return. Stuff like that. It's stuff that one ought to know, in theory, but it doesn't become something to live by until you have to actually experience it yourself. And then it starts to suck. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's been a bit of a downer, and I don't really know how to talk about it with people. Clear solution: spew it into the endless ether of the Web. I'm a little disgusted with myself. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Junior year of college starts tomorrow, which is very weird. People keep using the term "halfway over"to refer to our college experience, and I wish they would quit it because I'm not ready to be done with college. After college comes medical school (hopefully), and I'm not nearly as excited for that transition as I was for the one from high school. I want to feel optimistic, but I'm not finding much to work with right now. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I guess I should put things in perspective, though. I have a great job, and my friends are back on campus now. I'm still tight as ever with my parents and brother. I have good relationships, and I'm working on making new ones. I'm a respected member of the college community--a leader, even. That's all good stuff.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Classes start soon, and there's nothing for mood-elevation like routine (I suppose). I'm hoping that this year will be better than last year, and that the burnout I'm concerned about will just leave me alone. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm tired. When I'm not surrounded by people, it's easy for me to sink into dark funks, which are difficult for me to pull myself out of. I feel old, and stale. I hate to think of myself as being dried up and boring at the age of 20, but that's where I seem to have found myself. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is probably just the fatigue talking. Things are supposed to look better in the morning, right? </span>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-23566943102796858432010-07-02T00:10:00.000-07:002010-07-03T01:17:59.437-07:00The Last Airbender: Why I'm Boycotting (And Why You Should Too)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm not going to write something all that eloquent, because I'm terribly jet-lagged and very tired, but I figure I should send this out into cyberspace while it still has as a chance of influencing your decisions.<br />
<br />
I implore you <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">not to go and see</span></b> Paramount's new film, The Last Airbender, this weekend in theaters. In fact, I would encourage you not to go see it at all. The reason? Racebending.<br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://retaliators.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/last_airbender_movie_poster_international_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://retaliators.files.wordpress.com/2010/01/last_airbender_movie_poster_international_01.jpg" width="216" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
If you want a really detailed explanation and analysis of what Racebending is and why it sucks, head over to </span><a href="http://www.racebending.com/v3/" onmousedown="UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this), "d63c3Ni4XCz03caIu10rMspUf_w", event);" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://www.racebending.com</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><wbr></wbr></span><span class="word_break" style="display: block; float: left; margin-left: -10px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">/v3/</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and take a read or watch some of their informational videos. Here, I'll limit my explanation to to the following:<br />
<br />
In the casting and production of The Last Airbender, Paramount has displayed a level of racism that I, for some unknown reason, had come to not expect from Hollywood (silly me!). For those of you who know about the original Nickelodeon cartoon, Avatar: The Last Airbender, the source material for Paramount's new film is an American-made anime-style cartoon which features an entirely Asian/Inuit cast of characters. However, in the translation of this TV series to the silver screen, Paramount has made the inspired decision to replace all of the Asian heros with Caucasian ones, going so far as to ask specifically for white actors in their casting calls for the lead roles.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN3qboloE2XdIwZEYU44rXT77WIHyt6V96TRN_wGUSeRTwshcBaHKUyCCcjRmdtmYSU6J58wKLU0SidtCzUQWrc2CypyqpnoMsnG_HcgMLMEIF5B0h_ZDiFh3urUDCClI8LXWQrPBnNc/s1600/airbender.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN3qboloE2XdIwZEYU44rXT77WIHyt6V96TRN_wGUSeRTwshcBaHKUyCCcjRmdtmYSU6J58wKLU0SidtCzUQWrc2CypyqpnoMsnG_HcgMLMEIF5B0h_ZDiFh3urUDCClI8LXWQrPBnNc/s400/airbender.png" width="391" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<br />
In addition to this, both actors and members of the casting crew have produced various quotational gems that amount to nothing more or less than a suggestion and expectation of brownface (see Wikipedia for more information). Here's a delightful bit from Deedee Ricketts, the film's casting director:<br />
</span></span><br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"If you're Korean, come in a kimono. If you're from Belgium wear lederhosen. Even if you came with a scarf today, put it over your head so you'll look like a Ukrainian villager or whatever."</span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/photo/2009/03/01/PH2009030102090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/photo/2009/03/01/PH2009030102090.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
Cute, right?<br />
<br />
The best part is that there's more. Not only did Paramount decide to just ignore the fact that the show's heroes are Asian, but they decided to color code things for us a little bit in case we didn't get the fact that they were being just a wee bit racist. Which, of course, is why just about all of the actors playing the antagonists are South Asian, aka "brown". Thanks, Paramount for solidifying for us once and for all that white = good and brown = bad.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Chk0rAjvmQxyFPBOETvKjamPzGb1Rtiu0Dwymror9F9-UzO_XP5TX9NRKoQQsX681W4TTXdEzQZyznUD2OzYC45uLnnXfFAioP-YJRRkL2kb7QNvPmASaNByv_zNT5fEn-ERtG7fDM/s1600/tumblr_l4snekGcCK1qbn7ob.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7Chk0rAjvmQxyFPBOETvKjamPzGb1Rtiu0Dwymror9F9-UzO_XP5TX9NRKoQQsX681W4TTXdEzQZyznUD2OzYC45uLnnXfFAioP-YJRRkL2kb7QNvPmASaNByv_zNT5fEn-ERtG7fDM/s400/tumblr_l4snekGcCK1qbn7ob.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
So that's racebending for you. I can't imagine that the decision was made for any other reason than for a perceived monetary benefit, since I don't imagine Paramount having a KKK-type agenda (though I could be wrong). And maybe that's what makes it worse. See, "Avatar" as shown on Nickelodeon is one of the only existing American cartoons that actually has Asian heroes. For just about the first time, Asian kids have self-reliant, able protagonists who look like them. <br />
<br />
To a lot of people this might not seem like a big deal, but allow me to remind you of the fervor that surrounded the creation of Disney's first black princess, Tiana. If having a Disney character to aspire to was so important to black youth, is it at all difficult to imagine that the same might be true for Asian kids? Don't they deserve to know that you can be Asian and still save the world--that being a hero doesn't necessitate Caucasian descent? This, I think, is what boils my blood the most about Paramount's adaptation--the fact that it strips "Avatar" of what makes it special to so many of its fans around the world. It tells Asian kids that they aren't worthy of telling their own story--that someone pretending to look like them can tell it better than they can. And that's a sad thing.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://thepartyanimal.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/princess-tiana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://thepartyanimal.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/princess-tiana.jpg" width="169" /></a><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
This is an annoyingly long note, so if you read it all the way through I offer you serious props and thanks. I suggest you look critically at this issue instead of brushing it aside as a trivial matter of pop-culture. I encourage you to maybe even do a little research of your own. Most of all, though, I really hope you and your friends will take this into consideration when making the decision of which movie to go see at the theater this weekend and in the future. Since protests and letter-writing campaigns have clearly failed, Paramount will have to face a monetary blow if it is to learn a lesson from this experience at all, and only a failure at the box office will do.<br />
<br />
If nothing else, be comforted by this: according to Rotten Tomatoes, this movie seriously blows.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6QNpPynRmMNhHFQORd7sCPsZ18F37RJUdkW7BEhr6JXzPE9cKu0twat4UXtfwCTIS3h_3JUNDtWwsvockgJqxfHhN9r11j1x-aB-_8-s_41O9kqRa5RvHXZoHLy1LfstBGDKj74qUlw/s1600/stayasian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6QNpPynRmMNhHFQORd7sCPsZ18F37RJUdkW7BEhr6JXzPE9cKu0twat4UXtfwCTIS3h_3JUNDtWwsvockgJqxfHhN9r11j1x-aB-_8-s_41O9kqRa5RvHXZoHLy1LfstBGDKj74qUlw/s400/stayasian.jpg" width="206" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-997675738967136612010-06-21T08:10:00.001-07:002010-07-15T13:36:25.600-07:00Quick note--Quick post before I hop in the car and head to the airport--<br />
<div>I finished <i>The Dress Lodger</i> by Sheri Holman. It's a piece of historical fiction based in 1700s, cholera-stricken England and has a troubled surgeon and an equally-troubled prostitute as its protagonists. </div><div>I don't have much time to go into great detail, so I'll just tell you that once I got a good bite of the plot I couldn't put the book down. Holman's tart, sassy prose keeps you coming back for more and lends new life to writing about this time period. <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You should read it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">More later.</div></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-11234060994062817482010-05-25T18:51:00.000-07:002010-05-26T00:09:17.185-07:00Good Old Mr. KisselA lot of stuff has happened since I last posted, and most of it is stuff that even the phantom readers of this readerless blog won't actually care about. In summary, sophomore year is over. That includes organic chemistry, which I couldn't be happier to be over and done with (though, as my mom likes to remind me, I can't forget about it quite yet thanks to the impending MCATs). I'm looking forward to junior year.<div><br /></div><div>As I've mentioned before, I'm spending the summer on campus doing research, which should be interesting. In an attempt to stave off any potential burn-out or homesickness, my parents were cool enough to fly me home for the weekend, so I'm sitting in the airport waiting for my flight back to Claremont. On my way to my terminal, I stopped in a restroom to, y'know, fix my hair...and was all of a sudden struck by how automated to the whole place was. Now that toilets, faucets, and even soap and towel dispensers are motion-sensitive, you don't have to touch anything. It's pretty wild.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is something that I feel like my old science teacher, Mr. Kissel, would have appreciated. When I was a kid in his second grade science class, he had me living in fear of the bacteria that hangs out on toilet flushes, door handles, and everywhere else. "What's the point in washing your hands after using the restroom?" he would ask, "When the next thing you do is touch a door handle that's covered in bacteria?" </div><div><br /></div><div>To keep us germ-free, Mr. Kissel used to have us dip our hands in a bucket of chlorine-treated water that he kept outside of the classroom before and after class, and then shake the water off so we wouldn't have to ruin our cleanliness with a bacteria-covered paper towel. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mr. Kissel is the same guy who taught us how to count in binary, froze ping pong balls in liquid nitrogen, and gave us a very good mnemonic device for remembering the planets of the solar system (My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas...though I suppose it's moot now, what with Pluto not being a planet anymore and all). I credit him with much of my interest in science, so way to go Mr. Kissel!</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope he's doing well. </div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-65813129836186941562010-04-22T15:05:00.000-07:002010-04-22T15:08:10.312-07:00Blooming<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So it turns out that the flowers I bought on Sunday are not tiger lilies but are, in fact, orange Asiatic Lilies. The color is somewhat more subtle than I expected. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's been really fun to watch them bloom throughout the week.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio23w07gzoK_oDFJZy_m8cxweNfwlJhUXJw6jgUywPC_5sxQqwoSWC2NKnMN0gDlfxtUiKJlsc-ti6BxMx60RG284nWTp-nX3ayOe17j46IVDai9wINk1dfsMNeiSxpRDBv69yqM5yzck/s320/CIMG2039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463086859736114034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-28864619680762400692010-04-18T12:16:00.000-07:002010-04-18T12:49:22.386-07:00Photo-Heavy<div style="text-align: left;">I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">'ve been busy and, on top of that, I've been feeling lazy so I haven't posted in a while.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So here's a quick catch-up on what's been going on...through pictures~</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. Saw Sandra Day O'Conner speak. It was interesting, but it sounded more like an infomercial for her new KID-FRIENDLY INTERACTIVE </span><a href="http://www.ourcourts.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">website</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> than a talk to be given to college students. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4e1Q_GJnMFVvWJoLR45ePmdXikjThYi99e-wT9yxSUuysWQP4tmXP_7rg_tt5WioX0-C6ON-B6SyQvyAWswdxz5N2bdx5SxoiyY235GWI_XznWXmZEFtqjw_heJj4X8j0LBeqHHkIc3g/s320/CIMG1924.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461560142062837954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. Did some delicious cooking with my friends. We had an adventure finding ingredients, and eventually we didn't even get all the stuff we needed, so it was a lesson in improvisation. The food came out quite deliciously though... Fusilli in tomato cream sauce and a pizza with roasted garlic, fresh tomato, and gorgonzola & feta cheese. Tasty.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIhs9X7haCB6GPXLwCNLjRclZ2JaiHmAEMws_m6fLnFY4DZV7gtDVptc_lXuXmTwrykn5FK6qZ4qRVGI0M8pWoRvMDjIGk6CuIsv65D8HS4qj74R2HMvAJ2HYDZUzncIgxLqx_7BopvE/s320/CIMG1955.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461560796572813602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPlnqLTJiCfqNzQSVExIYVJo_pmxK7jEUQdjFQhPXhIbL_Kl-hxFxUs9Rc9YpTZWwq_p9_8LDD9vPn2X4OfqTrq3kTMxKzZWoKP_HhrpYQsiwcVgrXwJMJAWvEnhGAhOd_T-P38pcIdVU/s320/CIMG1954.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461560788874329586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">3. The Red Cross Club, which I'm part of, held a CPR/First Aid Training event that went really well. We got to play with dummies and bandage people up. Good times! We got a bunch of people certified.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgNXTlKdfC1ruiVDnC1w7YVk3xa2JjIcWHFHyJUo_NYprNIA8JkW0cbT1bV1GPbQpSJTIox0osTj4DxXb3MON4FuXuPSXRa_OzPZFh_YeYc3LpkwIGw-MQ3q2rjmAezzgLDgau2rNIag/s320/CIMG1928.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461561316773653938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">4. My sponsor was babysitting an adorable little puppy named Meryl. We went and played with her. Those of us on campus who have dogs back home tend to go into withdrawal, so it was awesome to actually have a puppy all to ourselves for a couple hours.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEebyp3IfOSLyMVobxCXwHroOgqsHYnLyO6DyZhZ97WxQvYA9pSkM4b6oCBNCMcCFSgHkU2ebsfYDte5h-ejpybI1CJOmqGvgwmfDMKkHoTMH-9B1CqdYhKDbKhYV-yDTGQmP_DW21Ng/s320/CIMG1994.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461561637219665026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">5. My fellow Red Cross Club VP, Gabi, brought a delicious cake in to our meeting last week! And she even had the bakery personalize it. So. Pretty.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirkGFl_lCTnfBqUQjd-BLUE8nzCLfXXgdk4Zv3ENhyphenhyphenSpM0hNxEi1BxSU_HhaeuB1Cc90t_Oak1DXM2FAHHOq77pnfVONko9HjllqgS-zIiLmaXlFOKoU_rlnnXXE-ITQHBbi-ERTtLU40/s320/CIMG2020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461562349698756018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">6. Last week I decided to make the great leap and buy a mixed bouquet. It was rewarding. They were pretty (and stayed fresh for most of the week, too!). Orange/red Gerber daisies, azaleas, some unknown pretty purple-and-white things, and fern fronds. Love it.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4nB-RlGAJcgtURJOTg5RVPyb1fcWGDk9BfpsoFpNzRTLa76jZYfN2oAOxxFuxdtwfZG-V66LuIk_Fhr4wHEIU563p9rU-eHbhUxdEjfOragYwxeerMwgGFM4evUGqVAS1foXen3Z-Tg/s320/CIMG2023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461562820495642930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlFCGJ5kikZuolQQz-V8P4X8D3OgWCUvU0mep5-yG4jmpe3jpj3wIyxS5IFPd8hdy6w27fcsnFvjxHfqrRzzgPFfxcPFgUwJ65pgiXzGN3QrDVGmxHE5GWNpuoXNxamf8iOdNWgvx6oc/s320/CIMG2025.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461562825517335650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">7. I started making pretty hair clip things with all the scrap yarn I have sitting around. They're fun and easy to make, even though crochet isn't really my thing.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs30B1L61ZRUdNA50gWIh15Ad5mfnljd-JFOl8Z7-LjOQWldXtx7Jp0sd4E3rlveotJV1cbf0avgNjzokNi3G-cbl_ZEDf3BaeJfXogXM0WTtJY_k5TxwFb1frwu8aCyp_zX5bEI6oIJQ/s320/CIMG2031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461563732310262722" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">8. I saved the best part for last. My little brother came and visited me this weekend and we went and saw </span><a href="http://www.russellpeters.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Russell Peters</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> perform on campus. It was FANTASTIC. We had great seats--super-close to the stage, but just far enough that he couldn't pick on us. I haven't laughed that much in ages.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Photography was ultra-prohibited, so I didn't risk taking any pictures. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I put the boy on a plane back home this morning, and I'm already feeling the family withdrawal. It was a wonderful weekend. My brother brought me a vase from home, so now I don't have to do the sad thing where I arrange beautiful flowers in an unsightly water bottle. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltec0d_uXq197wm2M3dkBvIjbeIqfVbgIad09Gdrqwbc-PRd7yvThvPzz0x4jrjWyxjH5kjAEX_AmZkok_H3EqGWSVYmz44ah5qAzk0ejXCbVeQD66PuzjjvEdi0MOlGeJdyts42ddDM/s320/CIMG2028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461565967146846066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This week, my brother paid for my flowers so I bought ten bucks worth of what I'm pretty sure are tiger lillies (Mr. Florist's nephew wasn't 100% sure, but I like lillies in general so I'm pretty sure it's worth the risk). </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioGzm0p8QDwmbgZDgU5ZFWKjINKPc47yqOFL_StPFX2_d7aSgabi81xylW8pxk210O4cU6NGUJ0e0J0NAu4ZY7k_ap_Fmb5pSrnlCvUN44c8W009AWJKz8qfBRa_cXfjP74kslL54ZLaY/s320/CIMG2027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461565976736432290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCcpqR3u2xFlp5499kUNnIvhOQ7CMELqxd9PHLuTZQAHkuqaF1GaPaMws8V2an61-ZD3HYoGVXebyg5mxfYDj0ccKx3wBVmB62ZM5Ggz_g3fsdLYshnrOJ1YAhU8jZ1rq-VivPNSbZSo/s320/CIMG2036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461565990533706066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-17433041923835034252010-04-05T15:48:00.001-07:002010-04-05T20:48:23.114-07:00Sunday Flowers<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_hykwaIFuPbL3bhOqrerYrsXxblkRcuebMbgoWoO0kwIots1yyn2qj6Ca25V-QbgQLDcnyjklgkXwou32KCQCtXF1hzEQUNJTFPITTSjuv22Ih8Je5stUqu1JoxQmjE0mynhfoJ10VQ/s1600/CIMG1976.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have no idea what these are called, but they caught my eye as I was walking through the market this Sunday and I just had to have them. The Mr. Florist who I usually go to had an unusually small selection, so I went to the other guy and picked up these beauties</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMupv9-IGZofBendYPTB7Mk_EheacJBGMqzcBZ1lenBPnLxuXa9OToeiLUGzM6OupPpUWzEONzaeG745jVUEylMVigfON77SNxo_LNJXxXQQ3NE6i7z_X-U87aquv7tCJwGPi-u6cvmdw/s400/mosaic2891e133c7c6fa032f6afbf87a05236c89b957db.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456791668905593394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I still don't have a legit vase, so I'm still doing a terrible injustice to these by storing them in the Arrowhead bottle. Sad...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be fair, I've trimmed the stems since taking this picture, so they fit better in the...vase...but still. Yuck.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_hykwaIFuPbL3bhOqrerYrsXxblkRcuebMbgoWoO0kwIots1yyn2qj6Ca25V-QbgQLDcnyjklgkXwou32KCQCtXF1hzEQUNJTFPITTSjuv22Ih8Je5stUqu1JoxQmjE0mynhfoJ10VQ/s400/CIMG1976.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456792246970899730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-14489495127137257962010-03-30T10:23:00.000-07:002010-03-30T10:25:55.447-07:00EoE ProgressSince returning to school my progress on reading <i>East of Eden</i> has been...zilcho. Predictable. I don't have free time, and when I do have free time I tend to spend it doing brain-dead things. So sad. TV>Steinbeck? Well, no, but it's easier to zone out while watching TV than it is while reading. I'll have to get back into it soon...<div><br /></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-79280749059901432222010-03-29T00:01:00.000-07:002010-03-30T10:17:14.234-07:00Sunday Flowers<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Today I bought what Mr. Florist calls "fragrancy lilacs". I'm absolutely delighted by them. They smell lovely. :)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZrIzwJSLzW5Xj3ri73hDfMdlSUk50V5XBRLRY1N-SloGY7npjCnHSk7KhJTSw7m9oYuPrYRIwHJEQiELAwIrDFzLFnthI-jjSNwh_8MhygZShvlymd_dCSo7uQx0HDtDn_MbtzjYJT0/s400/CIMG1915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453949723566281186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The process of getting them into a vase was pretty involved. Mr. Florist's assistant told me that I should crush the stems of the flowers so they'd pick up water better, and he said to use a hammer to do so because the stems are pretty woody. Unfortunately I don't have a hammer here at school so I just used the wrong end of a screwdriver. I've never made use of such an involved kit of tools in arranging a bouquet of flowers before...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGdBwmnEeQqkI_ShR3A1S90fhBZ1KoLEvhdVTKOu17p8VGPzS3mLjJqKqgSqK10vi6XPTqis3WRJesGwFJAbLuJBkrciI1ZcM8uhW73ZqFcqjB22BoQWDI8Zg9A5WdmIe-hO_VvZCAJ4/s320/CIMG1918.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453951008677499426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There's also the snag that the friend of mine who lent me his vase needed it back, so I'm currently out one vase. Luckily for me a freshman of mine was kind enough to donate a giant water bottle to my cause. Thanks, Marco!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgys7kZNYhw1dpKA2wfaL3CTF-qhIaaeH-0gCCEtkHjdmEIxyXJHLu5bO5Oxb7moJ_HdwOxwmcMxjexm2cgytg5DaAFNMDukBc5BYXYYUqX0qoyarucC9npu6oxm_SajxUvIovNKOAYjN4/s400/CIMG1917.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453951741164386258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The only unfortunate thing is that apparently the ants think that these flowers smell delightful too, so they invaded my room this evening to take a whiff. Happily, my RA has sprays of death and destruction readily available outside of her room. Needless to say, the invaders have been routed. Woo!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMnqbLUP4GzRuSugaOdNFxyY9LRcIDaMhpoMryqOqIuzOoQzzn-K28wuKE86ZInqRctDOn19wMq7el2oDgInfwFEHzN_nxZCeQjndd9mf4SK7NZf5j9FEeP235DIavKxhhYq0-iLaiG4/s400/CIMG1916.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453952588854431442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Such lovely color contrast! Thanks, Mr. Florist! Now my next mission is to get a real vase... </span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-77256747554171786642010-03-26T23:08:00.000-07:002010-03-27T00:11:18.985-07:00Summertime<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've received a grant to do research on campus for the summer. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This should make me happy, but it sort of doesn't. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of sick of Claremont. Sophomore year for premeds is notoriously difficult, and even though I've done pretty well, it hasn't been easy. I was hoping to spend a quiet couple of months at home with my family, continuing research at the lab where I worked last summer. In all honesty, the research would've been pretty secondary to everything else I had planned--the epic reading lists, the backpacking trips, cooking, playing with my dog, and finally learning to use my dad's fancy camera. I won't be able to do a lot of that if I'm spending the summer on campus, and I guess that has me a little down.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The obvious thing to do is talk to my advisor about my options ASAP and see what she thinks. I do feel like I'd be a fool to turn down a paid on-campus research opportunity, though... We'll see.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In other news, I participated in a murder-mystery dinner this evening that was put together by one of the lovely freshmen on my floor. It was quite the adventure (though there was no dinner actually involved...)! </span></div><div> </div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-69159826765630427852010-03-24T15:20:00.000-07:002010-03-24T23:40:23.739-07:00Book 15: Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTyfXZCxCRfTlOUMz05wuIYJNu45psQ-rKtOncv5CoNXhyphenhyphenrXZri8rQtmu6bZnqWOl55uVMTW0eisimhS7cU_sgHaj18OzAgynpQoubVve3aTmKoXeyxyeDv8Ki5RJp4yfwyYd9o5mpbW0/s1600/her-fearful-symmetry.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTyfXZCxCRfTlOUMz05wuIYJNu45psQ-rKtOncv5CoNXhyphenhyphenrXZri8rQtmu6bZnqWOl55uVMTW0eisimhS7cU_sgHaj18OzAgynpQoubVve3aTmKoXeyxyeDv8Ki5RJp4yfwyYd9o5mpbW0/s320/her-fearful-symmetry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452331287133631634" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cool fact: my aunt is Audrey Niffenegger's physician.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I guess that doesn't count as having a real celebrity connection, but it's within six degrees of separation so it's good enough for me. My aunt was cool enough to take my copy of her first novel,</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Time Traveler's Wife</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, back with her to Chicago after her last visit to be signed, and she recently sent me a "mission accomplished" email. Apparently, Audrey Niffenegger thinks my name is pretty.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Awesome? Indubitably.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately what isn't awesome is the experience I had reading her latest novel, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her Fearful Symmetry. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was one of those books that I bought in that epic Border's gift card splurge I went on at the end of last semester. Seeing as </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Time Traveler's Wife</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is more or less my favorite novel, I was expecting greatness from this new addition to Niffenegger's body of work. Maybe that was the problem, since I was sorely disappointed with the novel in light of my great expectations.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her Fearful Symmetry</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is about two identical </span><a href="http://multiples.about.com/od/glossary/g/mirrorimagetwin.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">mirror twins</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">--Julia and Valentina--and, by extension, about their mother (Edie) and her estranged identical twin sister (Elspeth). The novel opens with Elspeth's death. She bequeaths her estate and most of her worldly possessions to her young nieces, stating that they will come into their inheritance at age 21 with the conditions that they live in her London flat for at least a year before selling it and that. The girls, who at age 20 have floated in and out of various colleges and now live in their parents' home in Chicago, decide to take Elspeth's offer.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They arrive in London a year later, Valentina more reluctantly than the bossy, dominant Julia. The two establish themselves in Elspeth's apartment next to London's famous Highgate Cemetery and explore the city together. Eventually they meet Elspeth's elusive lover, Robert, and Martin, an older man living in the building with persistent, debilitating OCD.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The novel quickly begins to explore the relationship between the twins. While highly dependent on each other, Julia and Valentina have very different ideas of what it means to be a twin, and Valentina spends much of the novel trying to emancipate herself from Julia. Her budding romance with the much-older Robert proves to be particularly divisive.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And then there's the ghost story. It turns out that Elspeth's ghost is still skulking around the apartment, and while she at first can't be detected or heard, she observes everything and eventually becomes able to communicate with Julia and Valentina using a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ouija"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ouija Board</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> set-up. The ghost story and Valentina's desire for individuality come together in what I consider to be a tragic but rather predictable end to the story, which I won't reveal here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was not pleased by this book. Besides being written in a manner that makes it difficult to really bond with or relate to the characters, the style is murky and lacks the fluidity and detail that made Niffenegger's first novel such a joy to read. It comes off as less intelligent and more gimmick-y than her previous work.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While the characters are life-like and believable, I found it easy to read about them without caring what happened to them (this is with exception to Martin, who was actually remarkably well-written and is arguably the single-most interesting character in the entire novel). The emotional developments of the characters are all so on the surface that there is no brain work left for the reader to do. Instead of being the literary experience that </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Time Traveler's Wife</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">was for me, with its running themes and emotional undercurrents, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her Fearful Symmetry</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> was something of a joke--predictable, cliched, and too much like the run-of-the-mill paperback. I wasn't a huge fan of the supernatural aspect of the story either, though it's undoubtedly a very cool idea. I guess it just wasn't for me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I said before, maybe the biggest mistake I'm making in all of this is continually comparing Niffenegger's two books, but I think it's fair to hold one work to the standards of its predecessor. The conclusion I've come to regarding </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her Fearful Symmetry </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is this: sweet idea, but lackluster execution. The book could have been shorter, less convoluted, and much more interesting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Grade: C+</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rating: 13+ for mild language, minimal sexual content.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">PS: Cool fact--I was presented with my high school diploma by none other than MC Hammer. And, what's more, I got a hug. That's right. I touched that. How d'you like me now? :P</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-39891446436504711852010-03-22T02:06:00.000-07:002010-03-22T02:18:13.891-07:00Seven Weeks Left...<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;">Spring break's over and it's my first night back in my dorm. Classes start tomorrow morning at 8AM.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I miss home already.</span></div><div>Good night.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfSGeMJhHIaiT6URjpj6e8PvjCRBf0603yF2mn5Gzrg6ZDJwNQkmhxCVC9gdBG7NLT7FTNj91oJvVgYuN_eT2_3piEZY4v1S7iW44P8IAyeRs6xFuL-RS-nT-VKYsE7Hp9L9QU11qiHSI/s400/mosaic9c86a113eb167308c6646d99fc6e9be29f5f80c0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451384664889043554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 202px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-38181245464105772672010-03-12T18:12:00.001-08:002010-03-14T16:16:06.049-07:00East of Eden<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IBD0Bbi8Zgel6Bpk0TfFrE37ppycSKa6A69N8GuOij8SUfc30xo2gD31KzIJPWh6uy4vVgTVfikC8NlindQcUmybwdvHSAEB0bUCiFzj7o-08Y_qxIOZ7-4r4EzyO3vPevCC01v6TTU/s1600-h/eden2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IBD0Bbi8Zgel6Bpk0TfFrE37ppycSKa6A69N8GuOij8SUfc30xo2gD31KzIJPWh6uy4vVgTVfikC8NlindQcUmybwdvHSAEB0bUCiFzj7o-08Y_qxIOZ7-4r4EzyO3vPevCC01v6TTU/s320/eden2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448544962663305730" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_eUOrIv0jKads2KvWqfWtYdMOD9wOPSNSwf1sxoSVnPfNoOYQGAgk-Ck3LerbO5TS8F091bu3qvKziAw4rmGlUrmVc39B77aHroosN88Wdik4S3xPdNgB_cVTxJa6R0een-8p8o7tCE/s1600-h/Cain+Killing+Abel2.jpg"></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Spring Break started on Friday, which means I have a good week at home to do whatever I want. Yesterday, I finally tucked into </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">East of Eden</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> by John Steinbeck. I bought a copy of the book after reading </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Grapes of Wrath</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> during my junior year of high school, so it's been sitting on my bookshelf waiting for me to crack it open for three years. I think it's about time.<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I fell in love with Steinbeck's use of language in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Grapes of Wrath, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and even though I'm only a few chapters into </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">East of Eden </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">it's clear that it's going to be just as beautiful to read, if not more-so. Steinbeck thought of this book as his magnum opus, and described it as the book that he had been practicing to write for his entire career. That's pretty heavy if you think about it, since Steinbeck has a lot of amazing novels to his name. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Apparently the major theme in this novel is Biblical, as seems to be the case with so many of the world's great works of literature. In particular, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">East of Eden</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> parallels the story of Cain </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_eUOrIv0jKads2KvWqfWtYdMOD9wOPSNSwf1sxoSVnPfNoOYQGAgk-Ck3LerbO5TS8F091bu3qvKziAw4rmGlUrmVc39B77aHroosN88Wdik4S3xPdNgB_cVTxJa6R0een-8p8o7tCE/s320/Cain+Killing+Abel2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448544951713800610" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and Abel, the ill-fated sons of Adam and Eve. Since I don't know very much about the Bible (most of my knowledge of it is derived from </span><a href="http://www.mrdeity.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Mr. Deity</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, which you should totally go check out; it's hilarious), I did a Wikipedia search on the subject. This is what I found:</span></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif, serif;font-size:12px;">Adam knew his wife Eve intimately, and she conceived and gave birth to Cain. She said, "I have had a male child with the L<small>ORD</small>'s help."<sup id="cite_ref-32" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-32" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>33<span>]</span></a></sup> <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">2</sup>Then she also gave birth to his brother Abel. Now Abel became a shepherd of a flock, but Cain cultivated the land. <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">3</sup>In the course of time Cain presented some of the land's produce as an offering to the L<small>ORD</small>. <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">4</sup>And Abel also presented [an offering]<sup id="cite_ref-33" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-33" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>34<span>]</span></a></sup>— some of the firstborn of his flock and their fat portions.<sup id="cite_ref-34" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-34" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>35<span>]</span></a></sup> The Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">5</sup>but He did not have regard for Cain and his offering. Cain was furious, and he was downcast.<sup id="cite_ref-35" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-35" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>36<span>]</span></a></sup> <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">6</sup>Then the L<small>ORD</small> said to Cain, "Why are you furious? And why are you downcast?<sup id="cite_ref-36" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-36" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>37<span>]</span></a></sup> <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">7</sup>If you do right, won't you be accepted? But if you do not do right, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must master it." <sup style="line-height: 1em; ">8</sup>Cain said to his brother Abel, "Let's go out to the field."<sup id="cite_ref-37" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cain_and_Abel#cite_note-37" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 43, 184); background-image: none; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background-color: initial; white-space: nowrap; background-position: initial initial; "><span>[</span>38<span>]</span></a></sup> And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.</span></div><br /></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><i> </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Cool. Yay, murderous creepy people! This should be a fun read. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Being home makes me feel like I must be just east of Eden myself. My family lives in a seriously beautiful place. It's the kind of beauty that you don't really get over, even after living</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvt5AIdXwESdFk0BiGA-lWhk_STNwJIjrxXJOmjFu7MbInC3qR3o2NbjvStyZ5N5rkS5enUgl746ZPKUsSYKh450lB-BegfrOL1NSXaM-4cyDuKzlHQlvhFqvnktyjub7xKEXUF9MbA74/s320/CIMG0118.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448544946105448130" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> surrounded by it for a long time like I have. I love spending time with my folks, and being able to get away from school for a few days isn't shabby either.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">That's not to say that I don't have piles of homework to finish by the time I get back. I have little to no idea as to how I'm ever going to get this organic chemistry problem set done...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">OH WELL.</span></div><div><br /></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-86810713436285122502010-03-09T14:25:00.000-08:002010-03-13T13:27:36.650-08:00Scripps Dinners, Party Weekends, and Mystery Flowers<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Last week was pretty busy, and kind of stressful too. On top of having multiple tests to take and several important assignments due, I've been conducting zillions and zillions of interviews as part of my new job, so that's been going on all week as well.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My friends and I decided to get away from campus for dinner on Friday night, mostly in an effort to get away from the junk our dining hall tends to serve on Fridays. The four of us headed up to Scripps College for food and sat there talking until the dining hall staff turned out the lights on us, which we pretty much took as a cue to leave. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">David picked a cherry blossom sprig on the walk to dinner. They were rather pretty. :)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWcvo8M1pIMDlCkUckQfF8SJce8RKcXNXk_lepznzCT9XpqocRw2ZfZjxRrWZKKd2HsmS9Ur6nUnE_aXHIh9Hw8Fw7Asrwn45IEd9lRXanNkZgeg8xxa12JsI-P6KMPImticvLEtBkqk/s400/CIMG1820.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446768556717011186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In spite of intentions to go to bed early, we en</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ded up going for a late-night walk around campus. On Friday night, our college hosted a concert by Lupe Fiasco, and aside from that there were a lot of parties going on. Needless to say, we ran into a lot of people who were not quite at their best. We even managed to catch a glimpse of one of our drunken contemporaries laying claim a light post. With his urine. Classy moment? Not so much.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A positive outcome of the excursion, though, was the discovery these beauties growing in one of the flower beds on the quad:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQXHxt0hCYl-n_S_DPZ0tm2ljoTxJKTVrb2lvOC4Ko8GjA_G3tYnDle9l_631-MFyQzlRLlkGNtEPaamWS9WnoaC7xCD3QEJfcdXojBQ-qmxjnX-GV1y-tGX7Mx6006V1MOMznwF0ytM/s400/CIMG1865.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446799478830942130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I have no idea what kind of flowers these are, but if anyone out there in the void does know, I'd definitely appreciate a heads-up!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">After finding the lovely specimen above, I figured I wouldn't be buying flowers from the market this week. Of course, I was wrong. How could I have possibly passed these up?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pvE5wKRgpTj4_1Who0ye8Gcn_79Ix2CG5Mr-KtLlGPbKx_s9PbLtrElXNxRfAqUNoflMMLycemfZT28iicMKd5xyx3UZZLAwSN1m0bRnEFGsSzx3S1j1FH3q3w2pZI0JaA27HavzghY/s400/CIMG1863.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446801226459763042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Clearly, I couldn't resist. And why would I ever want to? These orchids are sitting on my desk in the bud vase that my mom cleverly devised from a broken olive oil drizzler. They're so lovely to look at that sometimes I'm almost sorry to get up from my desk after finishing my homework for the night. Almost, but not quite, of course.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-62722442604208960782010-03-08T13:37:00.000-08:002010-03-08T13:53:20.173-08:00Happy National Reading Month!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxN4GdR7ytlKv9gwm038LXJIVUFAkZPplCKJldQ6AMVX7LtdJbIcrtNOPt98Z_LCV0avhmCIkCzM-ZrR9fYX0zNc9vkg1KOxVjYT7sMZsoee1Whf2V6G7eA5HYvBX7HLiMn17v73vl5Q/s1600-h/3-8books.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxN4GdR7ytlKv9gwm038LXJIVUFAkZPplCKJldQ6AMVX7LtdJbIcrtNOPt98Z_LCV0avhmCIkCzM-ZrR9fYX0zNc9vkg1KOxVjYT7sMZsoee1Whf2V6G7eA5HYvBX7HLiMn17v73vl5Q/s200/3-8books.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446384402891030002" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, I suppose the title says it all. March is apparently National Reading Month in the United States. I'm not sure when this was designated, but it's good to see that people still want to celebrate literature and the simple joy that reading a good book can provide. I'll always be grateful to my dad who, even after an exhaustingly long day at work, would diligently read me a story before bed just about every night when I was little. He to this day enjoys reminding me of how I used to jab him with my elbow to wake him up if he, God forbid, fell asleep while reading to me. Apparently I've always been a book fiend. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I hope you get to enjoy some quality reading this month, whether it's a piece of classic literature or a childhood favorite. I myself hope to buckle down and read at least a good chunk of Steinbeck's </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">East of Eden</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> while I'm on spring break. Wish me luck!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(Image courtesy of </span></span><a href="http://www.modcloth.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ModCloth.com</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">)</span></span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-86885864200292124952010-03-03T18:52:00.001-08:002010-03-03T23:31:21.166-08:00Three Colors of Sky<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I was standing in the exact same place on my college campus when I took these pictures. The sky sure looks different in all of them...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Oh, SoCal...you never fail to astound/amaze/confuse me!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6f2aSrQVRz2UEPelTbELDB9zCqt7k2n29bdVfmsMkMLynZY47glx2M6OdVVpjELAgH5FAZD3og1Xm_2FBos9Wo50V4YIHEvKBpVAQ4xTEI8G6WInaM_B3S699DSnW2ePZPl7aq__xYs/s400/CIMG1805.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444675861719839074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo62L4cgoD7lNuQrKEifnhuPTIJvrcuL0526yBJuRMA7p_o4x6yEyP2WEzivZqSmWpJO_oyBUsjnMnewtdAnXiJoyyF-mK2ngCeJnByYf_iQGsby1ZzonLjAgFiDdPGYGMW6Hg640fHn0/s400/CIMG1806.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444676168933749026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpWffZ1xZ9u-pP0821rPDGLsW8McVZ6zXSjbFWbYB7uz4PizzcM39YqeOvxLZL9-Vu4ry7v5Yti7ShKr9kzysFuMLKg0aWiJRH-Z1L9jDRal8H2aLJrJfsRVWvdycdFOM5iLn433XRsSg/s400/CIMG1807.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444676376939393874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Featured in the bottom left corner of this picture is my lovely</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">friend over at</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><a href="http://stripedgreengloves.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Striped Green Gloves</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Go check</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">her stuff out--she writes a mean</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">music blog.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Just look at that sky!</span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-63258646203183512452010-02-28T21:20:00.000-08:002010-02-28T21:53:19.157-08:00Sunday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifodSvWxkkSvhYpqZQ4dlP5i9NlCWyKD92t6UHcJ00SX023ydG62DIboUPK20KMxswthvtRkofT3KsnKqNYH7hQXvurdzH7CoazXXk-iEoq2L_TduzncDDUEso6PnmIT3-NMBVAyu_3Ww/s1600-h/CIMG1778.JPG"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yesterday, I woke up and it looked like this outside my window:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToCnD4OS1CDCqV-rPAffeXSQHKsbQCU8IeT7Z8vh0XIGNQ-9fFNDDM7kBaD_w5JgGpfL7fzx3c2jCFPX1P2Y0spIQ_F6V24P0nhmpNjj2DkuuxWI3zmOCaRM9O0ldZCHSnPAAswYwkPU/s400/CIMG1761.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443532566799483810" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So I was pretty surprised when I woke up this morning and saw the following:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4i_zTSct2p-LD-XBfzeQbBpzRIvGf50gzK2zTQsLnQ73ZOFxLQ2P9Xo8bYwKENwGOtkCsqt2HCChHEt0BBdRp-AKK7WyhbkRVu3hK3RnejQ2-AzNecCxZBVBiPsX630URkxSI4KeMRE/s400/CIMG1775.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443532737707729362" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Pretty startling, right? I spent all of yesterday indoors avoiding the rain, and would've been sad if my Sunday morning ritual had been interrupted by the rain. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On Sundays, I get up by about 8 o'clock, and do homework until 10, at which point I suit up and go for a run around Claremont. The circuit usually takes me about a half an hour, and after I'm done I head to the Village, which is tiny Claremont's idea of a Downtown area. Timing on Sunday mornings is key, and this is because Donny, the Bubble Tea Man, only ever has his boba ready by 10:30 AM. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Every Sunday morning, I show up at CK's Cafe and order the same thing--a small Thai iced tea with boba. It's a beloved weekly indulgence, which I know I'm supposed to savor but can never find the self-control to drink slowly. I reduced this puppy from full to just about empty in under five minutes today. I think that might be a new record.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmFPEjUdC6QRz8cJ0LIeZUpwoMhk8uK89tADd5a1MIIZWKrP9a-osexEoDWco1xtlHjp5dg15G6f93RSbHFwIF1B2YY8Cnu_C85O9yjuOLzoAcCdwOr1f0MdzUgM-WMvSUi6e5_R6lpfI/s400/CIMG1776.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443534355356247682" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Donny is often the first person I talk to on Sundays. I actually just learned his name today and was, to be perfectly honest, kind of surprised. He's an adorable old Asian man with a pushy, stuffy wife. I don't know what I was expecting his name to be, but I definitely wasn't expecting "Donny". It's a pretty neat name, though.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After getting my tea, I walk around the Farmer's Market, and sometimes I check out the produce booths (which I buy much less often than I should; I'm a sucker for samples, though). Generally, though, I make a bee-line straight for the flower vendor.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Today there were way too many options to choose from--mini gerber daisies, orchids, roses, snapdragons, tulips, sunflowers... But then I saw these and I just had to have them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUtc98LiXjnePr6NVldGkkctnvcEeNSEpn5s7tUpasMdvBSrbyqPYITosSwJwz2M8azg3RBiauZKzVDbBwZrkRIUTQWKQWJn2J9JZA3g8goV4W9GEFh92GPN-dgIMDDH54eBUivkUYAQ/s400/CIMG1781.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443535765062696226" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Irises remind me of my dad (they're his favorites). You really can't go wrong with them. I've always been a fan of their gorgeous color-contrast. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Notice, though, the gimpy petal on this flower! Sad! Wish I'd noticed it and picked out a different bouquet... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Irises are a snap to arrange, mostly because there isn't much arranging to do. You just cut off the extra leaves, cut them to the right height, and pop them into the vase.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There sure were a lot of extra leaves on this bouquet, though...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifodSvWxkkSvhYpqZQ4dlP5i9NlCWyKD92t6UHcJ00SX023ydG62DIboUPK20KMxswthvtRkofT3KsnKqNYH7hQXvurdzH7CoazXXk-iEoq2L_TduzncDDUEso6PnmIT3-NMBVAyu_3Ww/s400/CIMG1778.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443536764672697442" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They're so pretty and green! It was definitely a shame to have to throw them away. I sort of feel like they belonged in a vase of their own!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Well, that was my Sunday morning. What did you do today?</span></span></div></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-5347933368711173532010-02-27T14:53:00.001-08:002010-03-05T16:58:06.737-08:00Flowers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvc4w27vr1nVA4r3H6uYztZMUUm3cQq7imvtc-aZVvb12AJoLxrMOI9_Zlrol86DO9Vm-SoFPCd7FLgS4D0SH_4Sbd4l-yCZQLT9lkBFB8_niQHeu_7BJLDDEtFJuwZplK-L5mDnGCCU/s1600-h/CIMG1760.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One of my favorite things about going to school in Claremont is the fact that they have a Farmer's Market that operates throughout the year. Come rain or come shine, those troopers are out there every Sunday morning with their produce and their hand-knitted hats and their used books and whatever else they're selling. I started going for the weird novelty items--there used to be a lady who sold tote purses that she crocheted from cut-up plastic grocery bags--but I keep going for the flowers.</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"></span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There are two vendors who sell cut flowers, and all of last year I gazed upon those booths with envy because, you see, my roommate last year was allergic to flowers to the point that the only plants we could have in our room were of the plastic variety. Very sad. This year, however, I live by myself and as such have made it a point to buy flowers for my room every week. I think it's a good, happy way to spend a paycheck.</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This semester I've decided to keep photographic evidence of the flowers I buy. They're too much of a delight for me to not document them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>Week 1:</b></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_cdq20uqZ0GWGqWKJdy8AJWRty7pQD1EjZ8_jNGQG0ic7IewVvjy_QJlj6t6Qf_q06JmbipdhWNVV-Idocuch3us_fDVdbXGHpzuPL8_KNNmYyfw2Ar02gPAWu72S89H5Oxi3ZEau6k/s320/CIMG1710.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443061554866380338" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Red Gladiolus! They barely fit in</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">the vase...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>Week 2: </b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PZJTI9Rp36LmA5pvsv-cmFBUERDdo7T1SvW6iXfLJyYgYVKK1x9vji7oQlrkk05m_VpqY1bFQAqHaynvuTyYAnH4roaKFl4-Xpr33lYYNgXmnlCVcN__husigAqePh2zeym4fUPReNU/s320/CIMG1735.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443063187450387122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Red, pink, and mauve tulips, courtesy</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">of my parents who visited </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that weekend. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Beautifully arranged by my mom. :)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><b>Week 3:</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvc4w27vr1nVA4r3H6uYztZMUUm3cQq7imvtc-aZVvb12AJoLxrMOI9_Zlrol86DO9Vm-SoFPCd7FLgS4D0SH_4Sbd4l-yCZQLT9lkBFB8_niQHeu_7BJLDDEtFJuwZplK-L5mDnGCCU/s320/CIMG1760.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443063678846495634" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yellow Renanculae! Simply too sun-shiney to resist!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I wonder what will catch my eye this week... </span></div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5009961624781498900.post-68030803551894319552010-02-27T11:41:00.000-08:002010-02-27T12:15:22.635-08:00Book 14: Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SdOG_XRrIRbEpsCrBzp_E95nYF4ejTCP3s0pH8kTowE-NHGwpJTy_Q0SJEdD-1pEggMtj7BcHP3skKt7kJSjgMU5v9D3Uh3lxSFZWa4vOpoJOQv-ttQXoQplKxRSKR9_3gg019mx_U4/s1600-h/Ella_enchanted.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SdOG_XRrIRbEpsCrBzp_E95nYF4ejTCP3s0pH8kTowE-NHGwpJTy_Q0SJEdD-1pEggMtj7BcHP3skKt7kJSjgMU5v9D3Uh3lxSFZWa4vOpoJOQv-ttQXoQplKxRSKR9_3gg019mx_U4/s320/Ella_enchanted.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443011678201471074" /></a><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>One of my best friends here at school insists that the Anne Hathaway movie based on this novel is "legitimately awesome", but it's still one I refuse to see. Maybe I'm being closed-minded, but I thought that the point of adapting a book to screen was to improve upon the material, not destroy it. The trailer for the film alone told me it was going to be a heinous bastardization of the book, and seeing as it's one of my favorite books in the history of EVER, I'd rather spare myself the pain and stick to the good old ink-and-paper version of this story, thank you.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This is one of those books that goes against my general rule about the attractiveness of the cover predicting the merit of the novel, since it's a cover I loathe but a novel that I love. <i>Ella Enchanted </i>by <a href="http://gailcarsonlevine.blogspot.com/">Gail Carson Levine</a> is one of the first books that I consciously remember reading and adoring from page one. I first picked it up in the fourth grade and can still devour it in one sitting ten years later, which is a clear indication that it has something big going for it. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Ella Enchanted</i> is a brilliant fractured fairytale version of Cinderella (duh), which takes the basic Cinderella story and weaves in all the other exciting elements of fairytale lore that the traditional take lacks--adventure, mystical creatures, dastardly plots, true romance, and a protagonist with a real personality, among other things. Out of all the Grimm or Disney Princesses, the one I've always hated on the most is Cinderella because she actually doesn't do anything. She plays second fiddle in her own story, and that's just sad. Levine's Ella takes the reins and works hard to steer a life that is very much out of her own control. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The story is very much like the original fairytale in a lot of ways. There's the distant father, the dead mom, the evil stepmother and stepsisters, the handsome prince, and the fairy godmother...and then there's a curse that forces Ella to always obey any order given to her (see the danger there?). The curse, really, is the most interesting part because that's where the deviation from the original story comes from. It's what gives Ella much of her spunk and appeal as a character. She lives her life under this unwilling compulsion to always do as she's told and is always doing her best to fight it, which gives her strength as a protagonist. Beyond that, she's written to be witty and brave and commanding, and these are all traits that the traditional Cinderella clearly lacks (actually, the only real personality trait that the original Cinerella has is "whiny". Lame). </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The plot's the part I just can't give away. It's much too much fun, so you should discover it for yourself. If you're a fan of fairytales and, of course, strong female protagonists, you'll love this book, and you'll have just as much fun with it whether you're five or fifty. I always throw <i>Ella Enchanted </i>at pre-teen girls, but the best thing about it is the fact that it's really appropriate for anyone at all.</div>notablyindigohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13635327650413928325noreply@blogger.com2