Sleep-overs, Book vs. Movie, and the Definition of "Classic"

It's been repeatedly brought to my attention lately that I am "deprived". "Culture deprived", it might be called, because it's all about the movies and TV shows I haven't seen and/or don't desire to see. I only just saw an episode of "I Love Lucy" last year upon Jessi's insistance, followed by "Gilligan's Island". Yeah, I wasn't impressed with either. I'm not much into watching or reading things because it seems to be the thing to do.

At the latest "singles'" evening get-together, Jessi and I got to talking with one of the fairly new guys about this topic. They both gaped at me with a mixture of shock and mild disgust when I said I hadn't seen or even heard of this show or that. At one point, the guy said, "What about Star Wars?"

Ha! I know about Star Wars because I'm American. I "get" the references. However, I think I've seen about 30 minutes in total from all the movies. (I don't even know how many movies there are.)

"Never seen 'em," I proudly informed him.

His head sank onto his arms, folded on the table.

"Actually," I continued with a smirk, "my dad's a Star Trek fan."

He groaned, and his head sank even lower.

As a kid, the worst form of punishment one could give me was to take away my reading privileges. Especially when I was two chapters from the end of the book or someone had either died or was just about to. I rarely got grounded from TV or computer, and if I was, it didn't bother me too much, because Sims could wait. It was when Mom told me I wasn't allowed to read another sentence until my chores were done that I fell into the depths of despair. Such a concept leaves most of my peers flabbergasted, and the remaining, the kindred spirits, settle down to discuss their favorite books, so it's not like my feelings are hurt.

Don't take this to mean I only read great literature and all the old classics. I did just finish A Wrinkle in Time and the sequels (personal favorites), but now I'm reading Gail Carson Levine's Two Princesses of Bamarre, which has "Ages 8-12" on the back.

Last night, I went over to Jessi's, because she was going to be all alone with her eccentric dog and wanted company. She was determined that I was going to watch this movie called "Quest for Camelot", which evidently every '90's kid should see, but of which I'd never heard.

First off, it took me about half the movie to adjust to the old style of animation. Second, it was on VHS and the sound quality was whacky, so I couldn't enjoy the music numbers because I didn't have a clue what was being sung. Third, Cary Elwes (Westley from "Princess Bride") played the main guy, who was blind, had awesome Jedi moves (See? Star Wars), and had a silver-winged falcon for a best friend. Fourth, the main girl made a huge show of being adventurous and independent, but leave her alone for two minutes and she was so incompetent that she almost ruined everything. Fifth, I was again reminded of how of much those old kids' movies were actually cheap comedy to keep the kiddies interested and didn't add anything to the storytelling. Looking back at all my old favorites ten years later, I have to wonder why I loved them so much. This is why I can't write children's stories.

Jessi did warn me in advance that the movie wasn't spectacular, but she built it up as this epic thing I simply couldn't miss. Ha!

But it was fun anyway. Nothing like dorky, harmless entertainment to laugh about while we eat pizza and tackle the dog. We followed up with "Race to Witch Mountain", though I fell asleep half-way through. Some nights we have deep discussions while trying to dicipher things like "Inception", and other nights we snack and avoid boredome only by commenting on all the silliness, having put aside all expectations of being blown away by epic storytelling and visual effects. It's all good. I still think A Wrinkle in Time is a must read for everyone, no matter how much they like or hate reading, and for Percy Jackson, The Lord of the Rings, and all the Chronicles of Narnia, the books are better than the movies. As far as Princess Bride, however, I prefer the movie.

Flying, Short Stories, Kid's Books, and a little more on Dreams

Ever since my last post about dreams, that subject seems to have come up a lot more than usual. Probably part of the reason is because I did write about dreams, which means Mom and Dad got the e-mails of my blog and read the post like the loving, caring parents they are. (Oh, and I had yet another wedding dream. I'm starting to think talking about them makes them occur.) Somehow, on the way home from church on Wednesday, we were talking about dreams. In particular, flying.

I don't remember ever having a dream about flying. The closest I've ever come is falling, and that happens a lot. Usually from a treehouse, though sometimes I'll be stumbling downstairs (I've lost my breath twice doing that in real life, and it was one of the scariest experiences to me) or be leaning too far over something and tumble off. Dad and Heather said they both have had flying dreams, and went on to describe them.

Heather said it was the coolest thing, because it literally felt like flying. From the way she described it, I was jealous. Why don't I ever get those sort of dreams?

Dad said flying always took a lot of mental effort, and on occasion a cardboard box. When I asked him to elaborate, he explained that it was less like soaring and more like floating, and he really had to concentrate on it, with varying results.

I think I read somewhere that flying dreams are some of the most common. Don't quote me, though. We know how great my memory is. That notion seemed a little odd to me because, like I said, I've never had any such dreams that I can recall, and I haven't heard many other people say that they have (and there are days when the whole family has spent the previous night experiencing strange dreams, and we discuss them [except Wes who, apparently, doesn't dream]). But maybe it's just me. Actually, it probably is just me. I wonder what that says about my subconscious compared to my dad's and sister's?

I suppose the topic of flying was more fascinating to me because I have a character in a little short story I'm working on ("short" being a tentative term) who's a dragon who can't fly. Yes, a dragon. I tried writing "normal" fiction, and I just can't seem to manage it. And I like dragons.

In any case, the idea of a dragon who can't fly might be in part inspired by the Wyvern (or "wyverary") A-through-L in The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, which I read recently and greatly enjoyed.Of course, in A-through-L's case, his wings were chained to his sides because the law states, "Aeronautic locomotion is permitted only by means of Leopard or licensed Ragwort Stalk." In the case of the unfortunately nameless dragon in my so-called "short" story...well, I'm still undecided as to why he can't fly. Probably something as boring as malnutrition and having been in captivity all his life, unable to properly use his wings. I had the vague idea before reading The Girl Who...etc, but I'm just now fleshing it out. That's the one problem with all this reading nonsense: I have an idea for a story, continue my bookwormish life and discover a story with a similar idea, and then worry that I'm unconsciously copying that story, even though  I'm consciously trying not to.

I found it characteristically strange that I have this dreadful fear of heights and yet I love the notion of flying. Under ones own power, that is. Must be all this finally-reading-of-classic-children's-fiction, Peter Pan included. "I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and away we'll go." How do unimaginative people live. You know, like, really live.

"Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven't left me any time at all just to-to live!"

"To live, child! What do you mean? As if you weren't living all the time!"

"Oh, of course I'd be BREATHING all the time I was going those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living- doing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That's what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn't living!" (Pollyanna, by Eleanor H. Porter, my most current read)

For the Love of Books

"The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read." - Mark Twain

After a surprisingly relaxed trip (including playing on a teeter-totter at one of the rest stops and getting 47 vehicles to honk at us [mostly semi trucks but at the end we were so desperate to get to 50 we held up a "HONK" sign to every car that passed]) we arrived at Grandma's. It's been a quiet visit so far. A little sightseeing today and some shopping, but not much else.

Usually a visit to Grandma's would include one day spent at my friend's house. However, she just left for college. Sometimes, I really hate growing up. I've said that before, right?

Anyway. I brought three books with me. After I finished the Ranger's Apprentice I was reading, I picked up The Secret Garden. This is my third time reading it (I think). It's one of my all-time favorite books, and partly for this reason: it's the book that got me reading for real.

It was while Dad was away with his training and we were staying with Grandma. Mom got me a few books from Wal-Mart, The Secret Garden being one of them. At the time, I was a very slow reader, though I did sort of enjoy it. Secret Garden took me less time than most books of its size previously had. I fell in love with it.

Somehow we girls (being my youngest sister and her buddy, who joined us on our trip) got on this subject. For my sister, that magical book was Because of Winn Dixie. For our friend, it was Charlotte's Web. They were the simple books full of adventure and wonder that finally pried open the door to our imaginations and showed us what was possible.

"No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not equally - and often far more - worth reading at the age of fifty and beyond." - C. S. Lewis

I read something recently that described coming to the end of a good book was to bookworms like getting a high. Wherever this was, whoever said it, they called it a literary high. That's a pretty apt description.

I pretty much always have a book with me. The times are rare when I'm not in the middle of one (though I can't manage more than one at one time, unless one is something like Jane Eyre or The Silmarillion). Goodreads is one of my favorite sites because it is solely devoted to books; the love of books, tracking the books I'm reading, book authors, and helping me find new books.

When we were getting ready to leave on our trip down south, I stuck my bag in the car and Heather said, "What could you possibly be bringing that would take so much room?" (or something to that effect, and referring to myself and our sister.) I replied, "Uh...books!" She rolled her eyes. ("Well-read people are less likely to be evil." -  Lemony Snicket)

Yeah, this is the girl who is content to take a year to read one book. I kid you not. Needless to say, she doesn't "get" my book passion. I don't really "get" people like that.

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one." - George R. R. Martin

I've mentioned before that I'm just now working my way through a lot of the old classics, especially childrens' classics. I tend to enjoy them more than most modern books I pick up (especially modern teenage paranormal romances). With a few exceptions, I don't much appreciate the average modern children's book. Too blatantly educational for my tastes. When I have kids, they're getting Whinnie the Pooh.  It's been proven over and over that reading helps a person's learning ability and intelligence (as well as music and being multi-lingual, which are other things I'd like to teach my kids [and yes, I, too, feel a little strange talking like that]). In my opinion, writing books all about the characters counting pennies or reading clocks is a bit redundant and takes away part of the fun of the readin experience.

But that's all I have to say on that subject. That's all I have to say right now, actually. Is it obvious I'm a bit distracted?

One last thing: "I can't imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once." - C. S. Lewis

(Goodreads is also a great place to find quotes.)

New Year, same old habits

Oh.

Hi.

Yeah. I feel like a total bum.

I can't even think about recapping. The very notion is painful. So I won't!

Well, not really. Maybe a little. What else do I usually have to blog about?

Our New Year celebrations were great. Up until midnight, ringing in the new year with sparkling grape juice and fireworks echoing through the city. Paper routes made it feel like any other day, but then we skipped Sunday school and only had a morning service at church and spent the rest of the day with friends. (Sasha hated that, because she was in her kennel for 9 hours.) There, we mostly played games and laughed until we cried and ate a bunch of junk food. Yay!

Other than that....

School is back in. I'm battling it out with math. Something about algebra simply does not click in my brain. Neither does the notion that it's all life applicable. Right. But I must suffer on. Get through June. Get through June. Then it's all over!

My personal challenge for the year (well, one of them) is to write two complete books. Technically, the challenge started in November, because that's when I started the book I'm currently working on. I'm guesstimating that's about 150,000 words, give or take. I have 9,500 now. That's about 550 a day from here to November. (I think. I can't trust my math.) The problem is looking at it as 550 a day, not 150,000 in 12 months. And then there's the part where I have a hard time finishing projects.

Um.... We got more snow (finally!), I'm now attending adult church on Sundays (still in Youth Group on Wednesdays), my youngest sister had a birthday, my puppy hasn't changed, I have five books on my "Currently Reading" list, and I got a new box of tea.

Yup. That's about it.

Summing it up like that makes me feel so under accomplished.

I'm still trying to figure out what I can do to motivate myself to blog more than once every week (or bi/tri-weekly, as the case has recently been). People say telling your friends about it is good motivation. I linked a few of my posts on facebook a while ago, but that didn't seem to work. What to do, what to do?

This literally was just a "checking in" post because chores are calling.

Technological Achievements, Psychological Adjustments, and a Rambling Recap of My Week

I'm feeling particularly technologically savvy today! I finally figured out how to put music on my Nook, all by myself! (Unless you count the various google searches for tips, but I'm not counting that.) Laugh if you will, but it was a feat for me. Nook doesn't read wma (Window's Media Player), which is what all of my music is set to. I could either download some unknown program to convert the music to mp3 format, or I could download iTunes and then magically convert my music through that. (I couldn't just take the CD's and rip them to iTunes because I lost them....)

I tried downloading iTunes months ago, but my computer insisted the process would take at least...58 hours, was it? Yeah. But this time it settled for 15 minutes or so. Silly, fickle machine.

Then I had to change the preferences in iTunes (which I am not all familiar with) and import music from Window's Media. Plug in the Nook, drag the music to the specific file, and viola!

Applaud me or laugh at me, I don't care. That took serious brain power on my part. (And many, many google searches.)

However, with only one CD on my Nook, I'm up to 88% used memory. So until I figure out how much space I have left and how much space a few more CD's would require, I'm stuck listening to the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack over and over (not that I'm complaining, though I long ago memorized it).

So that's the adventure for the day. I know, real exciting.

I think I really do need to do a recap, because last week was an eventful week! I'll try to keep it brief, because I do have a little thought to share after (the thought being in part related to an event of last week).

Well, for one, I've kept busy reading. Friday the 9th I picked up Taliesin (tally-eh-sin), the first book in Stephen Lawhead's Pendragon Cycle (and pronounce Pendragon how you will...). I'm now two-thirds of the way through the third and last book, Arthur. A couple years ago I picked up another of Lawhead's books but didn't get past the first chapter. I'd been eyeing this series for years and finally read them. They're fantastic! Another epic series that I'll be sad to finish. Yes, I've laughed, I've cried, it's moved me, Bob. Thus far, my favorite take on the legends of Arthur. However, I think I read too much too quickly because soon after starting Arthur my brain felt a bit overloaded and I slowed down. Where Merlin took about a day and a half, it's taken me since Wednesday to get this far in Arthur.

Right. Brief.

Well, Wes got a "real" job last week, so until some poor fool takes his paper routes, we're doing them. Even on Sundays. Oh, so horrible. (It may only take 25 minutes, but it's a long 25 minutes.)

Okay. Sunday was the annual Pig Roast picnic. Another adventure. I was nearly killed, but I don't want to relive that experience.

Tuesday was the second week of Institute, Thursday the first day of co-op (around 20 families!). I still haven't really started my own school....

Friday Allenna and I spent the day with Ms. Amy and her boys (all but Zack). We went down (up? over? somewhere) to Houghton Lake, where a lady in our church owns a cabin. She needed Ms. Amy to put some chlorine in her hot tub.

Well, first we ate some giant pieces of steak while they ran their routes, and then grabbed sweet goodies at Wal-Mart to get us through the two-hour drive. When we arrived at the cabin, we pulled out the kayaks and started up the hot tub.

I've said for a while that I'm not really one for any type of craft that moves on water (I'm not really one for large bodies of water in general), but when I tried kayaking a while ago I really enjoyed it, and I was eager to do it again. The lake was calm and the day wasn't too cold. I'm surprised my arms didn't hurt more Saturday with how long I was out there. Allenna joined me for a bit, but mostly she spent her time between searching for stones and shells in the foot-numbingly cold water and the hot tub with the boys.

We were there for probably three hours. We grabbed some pizza (loaded with meat!) and headed home. A beautiful day.

Saturday Mom took us kids and Jessi and Vanna to the Renaissance Festival. Allenna wore my costume dress and I pulled together a decent gypsy costume out of mine and Mom's wardrobes, but none of the others dressed up.

It was a clear, sunny day, neither hot nor cold, and crazy busy at the Faire. It's pretty much all shops (shoppes?) there. No attractions, unless you count the people that come. We saw Vikings (at least I think they were supposed to be Vikings), pirates, the Queen and her court (how many feathers can you fit on one hat?), giant hounds and little dogs in kilts or fairy costumes, ogres, trolls, fairies, a person in a toga, knights, musketeers, a Revolutionary-period reenactment group that some people from our church are a part of, wizards, elves, gypsies, squires, monks.... It's more like an all out historical and fantasy festival, not just Renaissance. But if you want to spend the day people watching, that's the place to go. If you want to spend $70 on a simple skirt you could make for $3, that's definitely the place to go. And while you're there you'll likely trip over someone's sword or get a puff of cigar smoke in your eyes or be graced by a smile from the queen (especially if you have a camera). Maybe one day I'll be able to go dressed totally authentically, but I don't know when that will be.

Yeah, that wasn't brief. Sorry.

Okay! Deep thought of the day. Well, it was from a few days ago, actually. It stemmed from a conversation with Ms. Amy while on our way to the lake. We were talking about the hot air balloon fest going on last weekend and I made the comment that I didn't think anything could get me up in one of those. I mean, come on; when I'm on the ferris wheel I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper like a baby, and that thing's solid.

Ms. Amy agreed that she had a fear of heights, but she said if she ever had the chance of going up in a hot air balloon, she's take it, because who'd want to miss a chance like that for the sake of some fear? She went on to say how she's been forcing herself to get past her fear so it doesn't keep her from having fun.

It got me thinking. I didn't used to be this fearful. I used to ride the high and fast roller coasters with the best of them (being my dad). I loved the thrills. And then one year I got dizzy while trundling up to the top of a roller coaster, and I stopped riding them.

I feel pathetic when I can hardly stand on the second floor balcony of the Lincoln, NE capital building without shaking, and how I almost cried at the thought of riding the elevator to the 15th floor. Don't even get me started on my hysterics display on the high ropes course at the zoo.

I don't appreciate getting lightheaded and dizzy and frozen with fear, but I think a lot of it is in my head. (That or some part of my subconscious is insisting that I need more attention.) Just like my distaste for high bridges and deep water and canoes and kayaks. For the sake of having fun, I once looked past that and went out on the lake in a kayak, and I had fun.

Come next June, ready or not, I'm going to get on a plane and head to Peru. That's got everything I don't like: heights, that stomach-dropping sensation when you say good-bye to the group, and being in something not firmly planted on the ground. I'm thinking I need to take Ms. Amy's advice and start forcing myself to face my fears so I'm not blubbering hysterically when I don't have the choice of stepping off the ride. I want to enjoy myself, and I can't if something so menial as a psychological disorder called unreasonable fear is holding me back. All it takes is some prayer, some deep breathing, and then forgetting about it.

This isn't really how I intended to write this post. I had planned to make some off-hand remark about forcing myself to get over my fears. Ah, well. None of my posts ever go as planned. Sorry if I totally bored you with my self-reprimand there.

Hey! In other news, I'm back to work with Book 2. There's another fear I have to face: the fear of actually looking at the mess I made with the first draft. It's rather embarrassing, but more so when I consider that mess was made back in 2008! Yikes!

Someone slap me.

Once I finally get past this disaster, maybe I'll be able to really write. I'm starting to think my fear of making another mess like Book 2 is what's holding me back when it comes to my creativity.

Whoa! Look at the time! Well, I have to run. Bible study calls!

What I Do: Reading and Writing

Today on facebook, Grandma asked Heather what our family was doing for the holiday. To start, Mom and Dad left around 1 this morning, bound for a week-long trip to Mexico. Aside from that, the day was laid out like any normal Monday, with the absence of Bible study tonight. Heather mused about how we would all spend our days. She for one would be at a friend's house, but the rest of us would probably carry on like nothing was different. She gave examples for what the other two would do, and when she got to me, she paused, shrugged, and said, "You'll blog?"

She makes it seem like I do that often. As if.

As a matter of fact, I spent the better part of my day reading. I even started to write something like a review on the book for my post today, but decided against it. I don't want to bore you. But I still will mention it. (It was the only real reason I had for blogging today.)

The book was Around the World in 80 Days. I'd never read it before. Sadly, growing up, I missed all of the classics except Black Stallion, Secret Garden, and Peter Rabbit. (Well, maybe a few more, but not many.) I'm just now enjoying Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, and Pride and Prejudice. Sad, isn't it?

Anyway, 80 Days appeared on our hutch a few days ago. I think it's for the middle school literary class/book club at co-op this year (and why we high school students don't get a book club, I can't discern). There it sat, unnoticed and neglected, until, out of curiosity, I picked it up.

There are days when pretty much all I do is read. I'm not one of those steady readers who can be satisfied with a chapter or two every few days. Like other parts of my life, I read in chunks. I'll devour a book in a day or two, repeat a couple of times, then be satisfied for a month or more. Maybe during that time I'll peruse an old favorite or try to work through a new one without significant progress until I am again hungry for a good story.

The last month or so was one of those lull periods. I just haven't been in the mood for reading. I've been trying to get through Sense and Sensibility for a few months now because I started it during a lull and skipped over it to read some new books during one of my quick-read phases, and haven't been in the mood to pick it back up since then.

I'll stop boring you with my reading habits now. So today was one of those days where I simply read. I started around noon, took a few breaks for laundry and supper, and finished around 6.

One of the things I love about reading is when I come to the end of a good book. I feel happy and fulfilled at the same time as feeling a bit sad, and sometimes a lull follows so I can savor the feeling of enjoying such a great story.

I didn't expect it, but Around the World in 80 Days was one of those stories. I read stories first for the characters and then for the plot. 80 Days had fantastic characters leading an exciting, slightly far-fetched, and adventurous plot, which makes it all the better. I've seen the movie version with Jackie Chan, but it so didn't do the story justice. I was even on the edge of my seat at the end. (Well, "edge of the seat" for me means curled up tight in the corner of the couch, giggling like an idiot with excitement.) When it was all said and done, I felt extremely gratified at having been able to share in such a wonderful adventure.

The first time I can remember feeling like that at the end of a book was actually when I finished the Chronicles of Narnia series (which I didn't ever read until around the release of the first movie in theaters). Then, I was terribly sad. Maybe part of it had to do with the fact that Narnia was gone. (Well, you know, in a sense.) Maybe it was because, though I couldn't quite grasp all of the deeper parts of the stories, I did sense them, and I felt a little lost knowing they were over. I don't know. But I literally felt like moping when I finished The Last Battle. True story.

I love that feeling. And yes, I actually was going somewhere with this.

There are times when I've considered giving up writing. Especially in the last year or a little more, I have seriously though about setting it aside. But I never can do it. Part of it is because writing is a part of me. I can't suppress it, I can't ignore it. No matter what I do, deep down I will always keep on writing. I will always feel the urge to write down that bright idea or that character sketch or that quote.

In many ways, I write for the same reason I read. I do it for the rush of excitement, the turmoil, the breathless moments when I don't know what will happen next, the pure joy I feel when it all comes to a close.

But I also keep on writing for a dream. A dream that one day, one of my stories will touch even one reader in the same way that my favorite books have touched me. I write because I want to pass on that mingling of fulfillment and sorrow when the story comes to a close.

I want to impact people. God gave me the gift of writing like He gave me the desire to impact those I come in contact with. If the contact is through the written word, then I will know I've accomplished something. So I keep writing, because it's what I know to do. And I keep reading so I remember the breathlessness.