The Dance

Ok, so I'm back now and I have two interesting bits of news to share:

1. My innocent li'l Shnay-nay had her first movie-length make-out session with her beloved Mazzew. . .in the middle of a crowded dance floor. It was the last dance, and the slow song had just switched to a fast number; Patrick and I stopped dancing because we were like, "Oh snap, another rap song." But Mazzew just took Shnay-nay's head and let loose.

2. Patrick looked all sad throughout the "session", which was real awkward; he kept looking at Shnay-nay and Mazzew and then at me, and I didn't know what I should do, figuring that if I kissed him at all, it would not be in the middle of a crowded dance floor. He followed us out, and while we were waiting for our parents, he kissed me, too; not with tongue though, for which I was mucho grateful. Then he kissed me once more before his padre showed up, but he kinda missed and got my nose instead.

Anywho, we're home now, and I'm going to add my corsage to my purple fuzzy box, where it will probably wilt and smell funny. The end. Shannon thinks that it will rot. . .in Helsinki.....without the sinki part, because she's a dirty li'l heathen child (haha just kidding). but anywho, she's staying the night and my mom's all happyful.

The School Dance Tonight!!!

Hello, people! I realize that I have not written on here in a while (shame, shame, Robyn) and so that is what I have decided to do now!
I am officially all prettied-up for tonight's dance at the Central YMCA; all I have left to do is to put on my sparkly dress and high-heeled shoes. As of now, I have showered, thought about it, and decided to just keep my pj's on until it's time.
Am I excited? Hmmmm...I don't typically like school dances for one big reason. What is it? - Oh yeah! - no one usually DANCES. And also, I am usually subjected to pop music the whole time.
But, on the plus side, I've had the experience of grabbing some punch in a paper cup, and leaning against the bleachers with my friends, where we get to grumble like angry old men in a movie (I suggest trying this on a bad day if you haven't already; it really does make you feel better).
Haha, just kidding. I think that this dance will be different; it's a bit more serious than the others, and if no one else dances, I shall be the pioneer of the dance floor! I guess I'll drag Shnay-nay along, too (I don't want to be the only one dancing).
Anywho, I'm going to go and watch a movie with my dogs, and I might get back on later in order to communicate about the events of the night.

Yesterday. . .

All my troubles seemed so far away! haha just kidding, I have not come on here to write the lyrics for a Beatles song :)
This past weekend has been pretty awesome all together. Friday was cool mostly because we got to make ice cream in science class; I have brought the recipe home, so I might put it up for my readers' enjoyment (It's easier to make than I thought). Then, I stayed up really late and got to work on this book that I'm writing, which does not happen often because of things like schoolwork and social life and stuff like that. While I was writing, my dad and Heather were in the living room, watching the Happening, and I pitied them, because my mom and I had already rented it from the red box and discovered that it sucked.
Then I went to bed and I slept until 11:30 the next day. After I woke up, I had breakfast and lazed about the house for awhile. Hope was at a soccer game with her cousin, Bethany, who happens to be a cheerleader (which is weird because I have a cousin Bethany that is a cheerleader as well; I guess it's just a Bethany-thing), so I didn't have anything around that would enjoy my entertainment until she got home. My dad and Heather, I think were still asleep at this point.
Hope came home eventually and I took forever in the shower, singing and what-not. My dad and I played music together downstairs for a few minutes (he plays the electric guitar and I play the drums), and then he had to leave to do a few errands. Hope and Heather had retired upstairs by this point, and I thought that they were taking a nap, but as it turned out, Heather was taking a nap and Hope was up in her room watching Wall-E. By the time I found out that she was not asleep, the movie was already over and I was jealous, because I actually liked Wall-E quite a bit when I saw it in the theater (It's probably my favorite love story now that I think about it).
Shortly after discovering this, Heather woke up and asked me if I wanted to come with her and Hope when they went to get their hair cut. Since my hair has grown out a little bit since I had last cut it, I joined them and got it trimmed by a lady at Great Clips.
We ordered some chicked at KFC on the way back, as we were in a hurry, and when I got home, Hope went upstairs to play this computer game on Heather's laptop. Then Patrick came over, and we were going to go see Yes Man (which was really good; I had had my doubts about it, but it was just as good if not better than Liar Liar). He gave me this really cool Valentines Day present, which turned out being a book on psychoanalysis, and so I was like, "Yay-hooray!". But I felt bad, because I got him a mix cd, which isn't nearly as cool.
Anywho, we went to the movie, and it was good, and then after hanging out for awhile longer, we dropped him back off at his house. We got back home and I spent a few hours more on the computer, working on my story before going to bed.
Other news: I might be going to the mountains today, and I am about to take a shower. That is all.

A Recurring Dream

I thought that I would just inform those of you that bother to read my blog about this recurring dream that I have had for a few years now.

The thing that stays constant in each dream is a red bridge. There's this cliff at the end of a flat meadow, and two roads running parallel to each other, perpendicular to the cliff. Once they reach the edge of the cliff, they become a red bridge that arches out above a smooth, peaceful ocean, and the two roads connect several feet from the edge of the cliff over the water. It looks similar to the picture below:

The bridge is paned in semi-transparent glass, so that when one is driving on it, one can look down and see the ocean. The bridge is not supported from beneath by beams or pillars of any sort.

In some of my dreams, I am simply driving over the bridge. In others, I am walking up the hill at night toward the cliff, traffic roaring on either side of me. Sometimes there is a castle-like edifice in between the two roads near the cliff, but most of the time, there is not.

Last night, I dreamt that my mother and I had driven up to the bridge using the left road. Before we got onto it, we turned right into a parking lot sort of place on the very edge of the cliff (the castle was not present), and parked. There were tons of families sitting on the hill, picnicking on checkered blankets with wicker baskets and what not. The sun was starting to set, and my mom and I grabbed a picnic blanket and basket from the trunk and set up our picnic near the very edge of the hill, a few feet from the nearest group of people. My mom was gazing out over the water, and I remember that we were waiting for someone to come and join our picnic, but whoever it was never came, and so my mother eventually was like, "Ok, we might as well start eating."

After the sun had completely set, and the sky was nearly black so that it was impossible to distinguish where the horizon was, the families began to gather up their picnicking supplies and head toward the parking lot. A smaller group of people (and this is the weird part), did not turn to follow their families into the parking lot, but simply walked to the very edge of the cliff and kept walking; they did not fall down into the water below, but stood out in contrast to the moon that had creeped up from beneath the horizon. My mother and I sat and watched this procession make its way across the sky, apparently determined to reach the moon, until their figures seemed to melt into their surroundings. It was then that I woke up.

On the Passing of A Unique Singer

On February 4, 2009, Lux Interior of the alternative punk band, the Cramps, passed away due to a heart condition. His loss will be a big blow to the rest of the band, (which includes his wife, "Poison Ivy") and all of his fans. He was only sixty years old.

Lux was born as Erick Purkhiser on October 21, 1946 in Ohio, where he spent most of his childhood. In 1972, while driving in Sacramento, California, Purkhiser (according to rumor) picked up a hitchhiker named Kristy Wallace who would eventually become his wife and change her name to Poison Ivy. While in California, they gathered some friends and formed the Cramps, which consists of three guitar players, a drummer, and a singer, Lux Interior.

By 1975, Lux and his band had traveled to New York. The band fit right in with the dominant punk culture there, and from there, the Cramps rose to fame.

According to Wikipedia, Lux chose his stage name because of an "old car commercial", while his wife simply "dreamt" of her's.

One of the more amazing things about the band is Lux's singing style. He has a deep, full voice and can waver between notes while still hitting them each time; it is all very purposeful, and fun to attempt to imitate while singing along to an album in the car. If you ever get a chance, pick up a Cramps album - my personal favorite is Bad Music For Bad People - and listen to the simple, likeable, rock genius.


Works Cited

"Lux Interior." Wikipedia. 15 February 2009. 20 February 2009 <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lux_Interior>.

"Lux Interior." Zimbio. 5 February 2009. 20 February 2009 <http://www.zimbio.com/Lux+Interior>.

Valentines Day

I have mixed feelings about this day, as I'm sure most people do. For a holiday that started as having nothing to do with romance (I think? I don't remember, but I think that's right), it has become blown out of proportion.
Sure, I suppose couples should have a nice little day to celebrate their couple-ness, BUT (and I'm speaking to those of you who are procrastinators like me), why create the need to buy, buy, buy MORE for that special someone (on the last day, when all the stores are the most crowded)? There's nothing wrong with buying someone gifts, but with all of these holidays in which you are required to give the gift of material goods, it seems like you eventually lose sight of the real meaning of the holiday.
Another example of this is Christmas. I have been conducting interviews of the people I know, and one of the questions inquires about the participant's favorite holiday and why it is their favorite holiday. Most people, of course, say Christmas, and about 25% of these people say that they like Christmas most because of the gifts. Though most love it for either family or religion related reasons, 25% is still a significant percentage (estimation). It seems that our society does not turn a blind eye to its material advantages.
And then, there's the added disadvantage if you happen to be single on Valentine's Day, when all of your friends are not. Who wants to be lonely on the day of love? And then, I even knew a woman who was dumped on Valentines Day. . .Ouch.
But then, of course, there's the oppurtunity for those who love to make it known, or whatever. And the chance for couples to get together and what-not, and all that good stuff.
But anyway, overall, Valentines Day seems unnecessary, because love should be exchanged on every other day as well, and not always in the form of chocolates and conversation hearts, but I suppose that it adds flavor to our culture, so it can continue its existence without any further objection from me.

Dreams

Perhaps I should create a new blog completely for this purpose, but I don't feel like it, so I shall start putting up regular posts describing my random dreams. Though I can barely make sense of them myself after awakening, they are still interesting to remember afterwards.

I had one the other night that was really weird; I dreamt that I was at my grandparents' house in Naples, Florida, with my dad, Heather (step-mom), and Hope (step-sister). They were my dad's parents, if that wasn't already obvious. We were all standing in the living room, and it was late at night because it always takes about fifteen hours to get to Naples from where we live, and everyone was talking about the sleeping arrangements, which was a difficult topic because my grandparents' house has limited room. So it was decided that I would sleep in the garage (which seemed reasonable to me in the dream).

My dad accompanied me out to the garage with my suitcase to help me set up a bed. It was really dark, and I could barely see his outline in front of me. I found a futon-like contraption against a wall, and was fishing my pj's from my suitcase when I noticed that my dad was rather still. Turning, I noticed that he seemed to be staring up into the rafters of the garage. He said something like, "D&mn, that's a big spider."

I have a spider phobia. The smaller ones don't scare me, necessarily, but they still disgust me, and so I was immediately terrified; I strained my eyes to see where he was looking, but all was black up in the rafters. I moved quickly past him and out through the lifting door that opened onto the driveway. I stood out on the driveway in the moonlight, looking into the garage, and my heart stopped. My dad was squinting up at a large, grayish-black, hairy spider the size of a small truck, that was just hanging upside down from the rafters. I told my dad that I wasn't going to sleep in the garage and that he should move out from under the spider, since if it just fell for some reason, my dad would be immediately squashed.

He came out from the garage, closing the lifting door, and we reentered the house through the front door. I told my grandparents of my predicament and asked if I could sleep on the couch instead, and they reluctantly agreed. It was as I was walking over to the couch that I remembered that I had left my suitcase (with my pj's) out in the garage. I did not want to go back out and risk waking the giant spider beast, and yet I didn't want to leave my stuff out there in case the spider woke up and decided to eat it or lay eggs in it or something spidery like that. I was contemplating what I should do when I awoke.

Today!!!

Today I finished reading To Kill A Mockingbird for the third time. I first read it and fell in love with it back in the sixth grade, and those who have not read it should.

Most of the time, this book is described as being centrally about a rape case, in which an African American man has only his word against the accusing white family (by the way, this book takes place in the thirties, back before the civil rights movements and what-not). However, though this is definitely an important part of the book, I would say that it is an inaccurate description of it. Told from the point of view of six=year=old Scout (Jean Louise Finch), whose voice changes as she ages, this book is about growing up, and the elements that impact her and her older brother (Jem)'s life.

In the very beginning of the book, it is summer, and Scout and Jem are in their backyard when they notice a kid their age in the yard adjacent. This child is Dill (Charles Harris), and he quickly fits in and becomes friends with Scout and Jem.

In Scout's neighborhood, near the school, there's a decadent house in which lives the mysterious entity Boo Radley (Arthur). The rumor in the neighborhood is that old Mr. Radley chained Boo inside the house after the latter had commited a few minor crimes with a gang from Old Sarum. Not many people in the neighborhood had ever seen Arthur Radley, though the gossipy Stephanie Crawford claimed that he came out at night to peep through people's windows. Once Scout and Jem inform Dill about the Radleys, the latter becomes morbidly fascinated with them, and the three children spend the rest of the summer attempting to persuade Boo Radley to come out of the house.

I won't give away more of the book, but as the two main characters (Jem and Scout) age, these two coinciding events (the trial and the presence of the Radleys) combine to create a surprising and heart-warming ending, and the author drives her point home with a recurring quote from Atticus, the father of Jem and Scout, who also happens to be Tom Robinson's (the African American man) lawyer: "You don't really know a man until you step into his shoes and walk around in them."

It's a beautiful book that deserves 8 stars out of 5. Read it now!

Twilight and Harry Potter?

Today I shall review Twilight and all of its sequels, (though I have only read up through Eclipse as of yet), for this is probably one of the most popular series of this time.



Twilight features an insecure teenage girl (a pattern is already emerging in my entries) who moves to Forks so that her mother can travel with her new husband. Bella lives with her dad in a place that she normally dreads visiting, and just when you start to think that the book is boring, vampires complicate the plot.



Bella falls in love with a boy at school named Edward, who is a vampire, though she does not know it at first. Fighting with his own love for Bella as well as a desire to drink her blood, the two become entwined in an odd relationship that has the added excitement of danger.



These books have been compared to the Harry Potter series in the past, and Steven King commented on this association by saying that he thought JK Rowling was a better writer overall, and I agree with this, to an extent. Meyer has done a good job of creating a best-selling romance that teens obsess over, and her writing is interesting and contains sophisticated vocabulary, but it somehow lacks the balance needed to execute a realistic-magical dichotomy. She tries to take something extraordinary, like a vampire, and make it conform to rules of normal life, like romance, and somehow, everything in the books seems too. . .awkward to appear realistic. Whereas, in Harry Potter, everything is just unreal enough to make the reader use their imagination, while it still seems real enough to keep a ten year old child hoping that they'll receive a letter enrolling them at Hogwarts.

Plus, the two writers, while both aim their work at teenagers, have different messages. One of the reasons for Meyer's literary popularity is her ability to create the perfect romance (or at least one that could keep her readers fantasizing). Rowling greatest accomplishment, in my opinion, was her ability to create the perfect friendship; Ron and Hermione both display loyalty to the extreme, and their fights and make-ups combine to make a complex relationship with Harry on several levels.

So overall, if you're looking for a good love story, pick up Twilight. If you want to read an adventure featuring great friends, get a Harry Potter book.

Movie review!!!

Today, as my first blog, I think that I shall make a review of a movie that I saw recently for the first time ever, Pretty in Pink.

Like just about every movie with Molly Ringwald, this film consisted of an insecure teenage girl who is in love with an either rich or popular boy at school, while the ideal boyfriend is always right by her side. It is hard for me to watch this movie and not feel some pity for the faithful friend, Ducky (played by the Ferris Bueller actor), who is obviously in love with her, and is ditched throughout the entire movie. The character that Ringwald falls in love with, Blaine, is rich, "attractive", and popular. However, he acts snobbishly throughout the movie, and condescending, in a preppy sort of way.

When Blaine stands Ringwald (Andy) up right before prom, she decides to go anyway, as she has already constructed a pretty dress from an ugly pink one that her unemployed father had purchased for the occasion. At the prom, she sees Ducky, and he forgives her for ditching him for Blaine and she forgives him for the few times that he expressed his frustration through hostile remarks; they hold hands and enter the prom together, and just when the movie seems like it will end perfectly, rich boy Blaine pops up and apologizes, stalking off in the direction of the door. There's a tense moment of silence before Ducky tells Andy to go after Blaine. She ditches him for the last time, and the movie is "resolved".

My question is, what about Ducky? Is this a love story or a tragedy of one-sided love? How can one assume that, just because he's a good enough friend to sacrifice his own feelings for his best friend's happiness, that his feelings have disappeared. During the last scene, he notices that some random girl is staring at him, and he decides to go dance with her, but this is not proper resolution.

However, this movie was a lot better than other Ringwald movies I have seen; the characters were much more complicated, and it was easier to see faults in even the good characters and redeeming characteristics in the bad characters. Overall, out of five stars, I would give this movie three.