![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
(These books go in the "Juvenile" section of your local library.
I typically read the ones for upper elementary aged folks.
Again, click titles for Amazon links,
if you want more information)
1. Stay!: Keeper's Story
I was born in the gutter and grew up in poverty, abandoned by my parents, stealing and begging in order to survive.
Wait, wait. I know what you are thinking. A book with a first person canine narrator = cheesy, ridiculous, why-the-heck-would-I-read-that?
Believe you me: this book is clever enough to make you forgive. Keeper is a stray dog, born in an alleyway, abandoned by his mother, and separated from his brother and sister. But he's an austere kind of stray, keeping his dignity and always reminding the reader of his tastes for fine food. He even writes poetry to capture his life's most essential moments. And his life is full of the adventure that every child hopes their pet would have had before being adopted into a loving family. Keeper lives with an alcoholic homeless man, gets into dog fights, and even takes a stab at doggie modeling. Okay, you got me. This book is pretty silly. But Lowry gives Keeper this exceedingly verbose, faux-Dickensian voice that kept me on my toes as a reader, kept me smiling and flipping the pages. This book may have slipped under the radar, but I think it could find a home with an animal loving child and a parent to read along.
2. Feathers (Newbery Honor Book)
His coming into the classroom that morning was the only new thing.
This is a strange year for me to be coming up with lists of favorite books, since I have read so many of these books from a syllabus, a strange, manufactured way of reading. I did read every book Jacqueline Woodson has written, in pretty much the same order in which they were written. And I liked most of them. Woodson is a good storyteller. But after about a dozen book came Feathers, and as I read, holding the gorgeously packaged book in my hands, I thought that this book was the first Woodson book that would have caught my attention outside of class. That this book was not just a good story, but a good book. A solid reading experience.
Frannie is a sixth grader in the 1970s - she and her classmates are black, the white kids go to school across the highway. Until a long haired boy who looks like Jesus walks into her classroom. But this school plot, where Frannie and her friends try to figure out what to do with one who looks so different, is just one of many threads that tie the book together. Frannie and her best friend are wondering about God. Frannie's family is one of those you want to pull out of the pages and hug - her parents loving but suffering from miscarriages, her older brother confident and capable but deaf and wanting to experience life more fully. Frannie is a thoughtful narrator to the stories that surround her, and through these stories she grows and finds her own definition of hope.
Oh, this one just gave me a nice warm, fuzzy feeling, you know?
3. The Underneath 
Again with the Ambitious January books. This was one of the first books I read in 2009 and I still remember it as poetic, enjoyable, and thought-provoking.
And yes, it's another book with animal narrators.
Yikes.
I will let my previous review speak for itself, but rest assured that this book is more than a cutesy adventure about kittens trying to survive in the wild. There is mythology, folklore, powerful nature and strong examination of the faults of humans. Your 8-year-old will like it, but you will like it more.
4. What Jamie Saw
When Jamie saw him throw the baby, saw Van throw the little baby, when Jamie saw Van throw his little sister, Nin, then they moved.
Spare, delicate prose. A tone that feels like dirty white snow, faded gray-blue skies. This is not a book for the faint of heart - the story begins when Jamie sees his baby sister almost killed by his mother's boyfriend. The tenuous family leaves, moving in with a friend of the family, and young Jamie is left grasping at the remaining threads of safety, comfort, and home.
I read this book for class months ago, but picked it up again to write a paper. With the first read, I thought, "Wow, what a painful story." The second read, I was in awe of Coman's skill, to tell such a terrible story through the mentality of a young child. An quick read, but intense, to realize that this is life for too many children in the world.
5. When You Reach Me
So Mom got the postcard today.
This was my first post-syllabus choice. It's getting a little hype in the children's lit world. Actually, I'm sitting in a classroom right now, waiting for a professor of mine to begin a presentation on the best youth books of the year, and I've spotted this cover on the table, ready to be lauded.
And I really do love when this kind of book gets attention, because there's nothing flashy about it. Miranda is a quiet narrator in a quiet story - she lives with her mother in 1970s Manhattan, her best friend suddenly won't speak to her, she hangs out with her new friends in a skeevy sandwich shop every day at lunchtime, reads and rereads and rereads again the same tattered copy of A Wrinkle In Time. But interwoven into a plain plot is an element of supernatural mystery - Miranda is finding letters in her apartment, written directly to her, including things that haven't happened yet. At this point, the book becomes, as my dear professor put it this afternoon, "seductively weird."
Really, an ideal read. Interesting premise, but not TOO interesting, of course. Likeable characters. Well-developed relationships. That hint of weirdness lurking under the text. A gorgeous little book.
Runners Up:
- Number the Stars
by Lois Lowry
- Robot Dreams
by Sarah Varon
- The Graveyard Book
by Neil Gaiman
- Locomotion
by Jacqueline Woodson
- The Silent Boy by Lois Lowry
I have no reason not to answer the door, so I answer the door.
Last January, I was feeling super ambitious about reading, about reading widely and reading a lot, about reading more substantial books and reading the kind of books say you are going to read but never get around to it. I'm finding many of these early reads - January, February - popping up on my favorites list, even though newer, flashier books should still be on my mind. This is one of those books. Even the scratchy, jacketless cover stays with me. Dave Eggers crosses fiction with nonfiction when he recreates the life of Valentino Achak Deng in this book - Valentino is a real person, who told his life story, the story of his family, his village destroyed by civil war and family lost, and his subsequent childhood spent as one of the Lost Boys of Sudan.
This is the kind of book that would completely heartbreaking if it weren't for Eggers. He creates, for Valentino, a voice that can tell a traumatic story with full emotion but without sentimentality. As Eggers spoke to Valentino and wrote his tale, Valentino is a young man, in his twenties, trying to navigate American life. A parallel plot to his bleak childhood is the even bleaker reality - that these Lost Boys have arrived in America, finally liberated from the refugee camps, but there is little infrastructure and assistance to make sure they can survive. The story is told in flashbacks as Valentino is subject to a violent scheme, perpetrated by dishonest Americans looking to rob him.
Believe me when I say I'm not doing this book justice. It sucked me in, big time. It will give you a second-hand look at what is really going on in these small African villages, as well as keep you reading to figure out what happens to the exceedingly likeable, seemingly doomed narrator.
2. Revolutionary Road
The final dying sounds of their dress rehearsal left the Laurel Players with nothing
to do but stand there, silent and helpless, blinking out over the footlights of an empty auditorium.
I read this book because I saw the movie preview and really wanted to see it with my mom. I have a fairly strict personal rule about reading the book before I see the movie. It's respectful, and I have the ability to judge two different forms of art on different standards. We didn't watch the movie until it came out on DVD. It was okay, I thought, but didn't touch the book.
Frank and April are living the 1950s dream. Frank has a good job. April stays at home with their two children. They have a nice house in a nice neighborhood. But of course, everything is secretly shitty. Frank hates his job and suffers from a constant longing for some kind of artistic, bohemian existence where he can "find himself." April can't figure out what will please her husband, and what will make her happy outside of the home. They are living in a constant state of hating each other and hating the world, so they decide to fix it.
... of course, it's not as easy as they think.
If you are a fan of Mad Men - which I really hope most of you are - the theme and setting will really resonate. The deconstruction of the American Dream, dealing with dissolutionment, exponentially increasing consumerism- these are all very relevant ideas which the creators of the television show were keen to recreate with Don and Betty Draper. However, it stands to mention that Richard Yates wrote this book in 1961. It reads as if it were written today. Some things really don't change, I guess. It also stands to mention that the ending nearly brought me to my knees. Yowza.
3. Autobiography of a Family Photo: A Novel
by Jacqueline Woodson
Yes, I was assigned a few "adult" books this semester. This was one of them. And while Ms. Woodson has a remarkable children's canon, which I've discussed before, this single book for adults still surfaces to my mind. And of course, it's not one of those books that's easy to explain. The narrator is nameless. The plot is episodic at best. It is the story of a girl's broken family - her mother had another baby, and the baby is white, so her father left. It is also a coming of age, coming into sexuality story that walks the line between disturbing and heartbreaking. I read it and thought The Bluest Eye, immediately, which is a high compliment in my book. It is artful and tragic and true.
And very hard to find! If your library has a copy, check it out before it gets pitched! It happens to a lot of good books, especially those that slip under the radar.
4. Cat's Cradle
by Kurt Vonnegut
I tell myself a lot of things that aren't true. That I don't like "Classics." That I don't like sci-fi. That I don't like books that are old, books by old white males, books about old white males.
Oh, there are exceptions. A lot of them. I really like Kurt Vonnegut, even though his books fits all of these criteria.
I think this year's theme for Best Adult Fic is "Books That Are Really Hard To Describe." This book is about a man name John, who is on a plane, going to a Caribbean island. He is going to research a newspaper story he is writing, a story about where people were when the atomic bomb was dropped. He is specifically curious about the creator of the atomic bomb himself, Felix Hoenikker, and by association, Hoenikker's ridiculous children. John has been chasing them around the country, but the reader's not sure why he's going to this island... and the story unwravels, backwards and forwards, while John narrates from the far future. Oh, and by the wayt, Far Future John is a member of an unfamiliar religion called Bokonon, which he explains as he tells his own story, looking back on his life and how the rules of Bokonon would explain and help the situations he was in.
Confusing, no?
And writing this, I think I've landed on one of the qualities that will make me forgive a book for being out of my league - it's hilarious. Bokonon is ridiculous. The dialogue between characters is impeccable. The characterizations will make you roll. He makes you think, he makes you laugh, he makes you forget you aren't supposed to like that kind of book. Oh, Vonnegut. I do like you.
5. Autumn Street
by Lois Lowry
It was a long time ago.
Somewhere over the course of my Lois Lowry course, I became "The Girl Who Is Very Concerned With AUDIENCE."
For those of you not in the writing/reading world, this is kind of a jab. We studiers of literature are not to consider audience! Much like we cannot talk about Authorial Intent! These are irrelevant, unscholarly pursuits.
I don't know if I agree with that stance or not, but I will say that my classroom label is fairly FALSE. I am interested in audience, but I am not CONCERNED with audience. But it could be worse. Other classmates of mine have been incorrectly labeled as "The Girl Who Will Gladly Ask Respected Authors About How Their Books Are Racist." Yikes.
Anyway. This classroom label stemmed from a single comment about this book, an early novel by Lois Lowry. As I read Autumn Street, the pages turning, the narrator's world shifting and shifting again, I looked at the spine label and saw a big fat J. I couldn't believe this. It was much, much too dark for juvenile, I thought, but the characters much, much too young for young adult. What was I reading? Who was this for?
Of course, my professor took this to mean I hated the book. I didn't. I thought it was gorgeously written, very intimate and personal. This is an autobiographical story about a child, moved into her grandparent's house with her pregnant mother when her father goes off to war. The house on Autumn Street is large, her grandparents wealthy, and the atmosphere stifling for a child. But there are respites - most notably, the cook, Tatie, and her son, Charles.
And then tragedy after tragedy befalls. Through the eyes of Liz, the very young narrator, the world shifts, the horizon moves. Much like Eggers, Lowry paints the pain with such detail that you "feel" rather than "feel for." There is little nostalgia, just a bevy of complicated adult characters and the little girl who is learning how to navigate their world without help.
I've decided this is an adult book with a child's sentiments. In another era, it would have been published as such. I almost wish it had so that more people might have read it. It is quite beautiful.
Runners Up
- The Last Summer (of You and Me)
by Ann Brashares
- Her Fearful Symmetry: A Novel
by Audrey Niffenegger
- American Wife
by Curtis Sittenfeld
- The Abstinence Teacher
by Tom Perrota
- Harvesting the Heart: A Novel
by Jodi Picoult
Just a little though.
These are two very hard papers, and I have very limited time to write them. Paper #1 is a 8-12 page biocritical study on three of Lois Lowry's most recent works. I have chosen Looking Back, Gathering Blue, and The Willoughbys. An unlikely bunch. This paper is hard because it is eight pages long, and because what the heck is a biocritical work, really? Paper #2 is a 5-6 page critical paper, applying three literary theories to a single work, and using three articles from journals about children's lit. I am writing on The Giver, because we had to pick a book from our childhood. This paper is hard because the assignment is vague, the topic hard to pin down, and the sources few (not too many journals about children's lit floating around), and the professor a tough grader
But this could be something I do for the rest of my life, this writing, something I will certainly be doing for the next year, here at school. I am getting started.
And I get to write hard papers about books I find interesting. Issues I find compelling. Theories that pique my interest! I'm taken back to this moment, in eleventh grade English class, when Mrs. Hanneman (I love you Mrs. H, but I will continue to tell this story over and over again) assessed my choice in free reading material as trash. I needed to read more classics - Dickens, Austen - and put down The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.
I didn't listen. I'm getting a Masters Degree in Children's Literature.
And another moment of circularity. When I was in twelfth grade, I filled out an application, wrote an essay (about a young adult novel), wrote another essay (about this kid that tried to flirt with me while I walked over to write the essay), and found myself on the line for a full ride to my chosen undergraduate institution. All I had to do was drive back up to Mount Pleasant in a month, submit myself to a teamwork exercise and an interview, and present a ten minute presentation on any academic topic of my choosing.
I had just read Feed by M.T. Anderson. I really, really liked it. It reminded me of The Giver, a favorite book from my childhood, and Brave New World, a classic I read without provocation in the eighth grade. I didn't know what these books were called at the time, I just knew they were cool and cool in a special way. And when my writing on The Giver, today, brings me back to this same idea - that dystopian novels are cool, I wonder how they work - I am glad I haven't changed too much in the last seven years, that I didn't have to become a new person.
That writing these Hard Papers feels like something I was meant to do, and that I'm excited to learn how to do them better.
So, a happy exam week to me :-)
25 Things I Like About My Life
an exercise to counter
this nasty headache I've woken up with.
i blame the combination of 30 degree weathe
and my memory foam pillow.
1. I am done with work AND papers on the same day, and then I get FOUR WHOLE DAYS of sweet, sweet nothing.
2. This video and song, of which I am inexplicably obsessed.
3.
High speed internet, that brings new Broadway musical soundtracks into my life in less than 90 seconds.
4. That vending machine... man, I love that vending machine.
5. My apartment lobby filled with packages, everyone doing their online shopping, getting ready for Christmas.
6. Homemade granola. Mmmmmm...
7. Being slightly geeked to write final papers. Such a strange, strange feeling...
8.
Fun Books With Gorgeous Book Covers, Volume I
9. Lance getting a raise. Or more like "Let's pay you for some work you were already doing." But our income is really more than I ever imagined at this point. I am really grateful for all that hard work.
10. My blue Christmas tree.
11. Excedrin. Love it. Require it.
12. Even though my apartment is constantly messy, I actually like cleaning. Especially as a procrastination tool.
13. Buying groceries every week, having cupboards full of food.
14.
Season five finale of Weeds. Shocked, jaw-dropped, and wishing this Celia subplot would have come two season back it looks like it will be hilarious
15.
Having Showtime for the first time in my life. New season starts in January!
16. Having a kitten to look forward to.
17. Sudafed. I like Sudafed.
18. RSVPing for a reading featuring
and featuring free wine and cheese and other such delights. this makes me REALLY like my life
19. Going to a party last night that was full of delicious Midwestern food and hospitality. And Catchphrase. Thanks, Sarah & Ben!
20.
Fun Books With Gorgeous Book Covers, Volume II
the inside jacket has this gorgeous pattern... pick this one up for a look
21.
Paper Mario!
22. New semester = new binders, notebooks, highlighters and pens.
23. The heady prospect of almost three weeks at home.
24. Not having any papers due on Monday. wow, this weekend feels nice.
25.
Anyway, someone else was looking for his pants with a belt draped artfully around his neck, and then his phone rang. A minute later, he was back in bed.
Snow day.
Of course snow days are only good for elementary schools an hour and a half west of town. You know, where they actually have snow, instead of some kind of wicked "wintry mix." I got up when my own alarm went off and watched it fall, handfuls of slush dropping heavily from the sky and landing in my cement courtyard. I put on the thick socks my mother knitted for someone else and then my rainboots. I wrapped a scarf around my neck and wore my white winter coat, even though it looks weird with that dress.
Someone else woke up and asked if I wanted a ride to the T. Someone else even ran downstairs to start the car before we got in. And helped me find my advanced reading copy of The Willoughbys. And shoved my normal shoes into my backpack for me, so I could put them on later.
It's only a half mile between me and my train stop. So there were only a half mile's worth of cars backed up, trying to travel the same corridor my train would soon travel, but failing. We rounded the corner to see a car accident - tires slipping in the wintry mix - and a cop car, parked horizontally atop the tracks my train should be traveling on.
So someone else drove me to school, an adventure that took about an hour. And someone else has no sense of Bostonian direction and is in desperate need of a GPS, so the going home adventure took about an hour and a half.
The rest of my day was long and strange, good and bad. I was doing some work. I found a vending machine in the basement that dispenses Starbucks bottled frappucinos, in chocolate and vanilla, for two dollars. I tried the DoubleShot yesterday - I was just tired, tired, tired - and found out that despite the price of 2.50, the machine insists on charging me a dollar. A DOLLAR. I was at work, doing some work, drinking my coffee, eating my snacks. Thinking about this Lois Lowry paper I'm going to have to write. Thinking about how I'm going to write two major papers, simultaneously.
Then work was over and some of my classmates drove into Cambridge to go to Lois Lowry's house.
Don't worry, you'll hear more about that later.
It was really, really cool.
But it gave me a headache. The whole thing, the whole long day gave me a headache. It starts in my shoulder, my neck, and then runs up the side of my head to my jaw and then my eye and one side of my nose hurts and gets all drippy and then the pain makes me a little nauseous and sometimes I cry.
I have yet to figure out how to conquer or prevent these headaches, that seem to appear only when I have long days, like these, even long GOOD days. Except with a lot of sleep and then a lot of Excedrin, which is obviously a counterintuitive prescription.
So I came home, eventually, and had this headache, but I made dinner anyway because I was hungry and so was someone else. It was good. It was a sandwich. Someone else went into the other room to practice his trumpet and I lay on the futon and watched Glee and tried not to cry because I was feeling so miserable and stressed and how is it that I can be so stressed even when my days are good? Even when I have nothing overtly BAD going on in my life? Why can't I do a long day without physically breaking down?
All questions that I still don't have answers to.
But I went to bed early and someone else did the dishes for me and woke up and it wasn't snowing and maybe there would be sun. And I had my Excedrin. And that vending machine is still on my side.
Those of you who have been around this here blog for awhile might know that I've been summing up my favorite yearly reads around the holiday time. Don't worry - I've already tabulated a few of the top contenders for 2009. But by the time I get around to posting this (ETA: December 15) year's favorites, allow me to draw your attention to favorites from years past. I have read all these books, so they are Jessica Approved - aka I made it to the end without hurling the book to the wall. There are a few lists I didn't include, so if you browse my archives, you can find more reviews.
The book titles are all links to Amazon. I am an Amazon affliate, so if you would like to kick back a few pennies to your favorite blogger so she can buy more books, just throw anything that looks good into your cart now and go back and sort it all out later.
2007 Top 20 (+4)
24. Heavy Metal And You
by Chris Krovatin (YA)
23. Hole in My Life
by Jack Gantos (YA memoir)22. Twisted
by Laurie Hale Anderson (YA)
21. Forever in Blue: The Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants)
by Ann Brashares (YA)
20. The Boy Book (Readers Circle)
by E. Lockhart (YA)
19. Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List
by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn (YA)
18. An Abundance of Katherines
by John Green (YA)
17. The Man of My Dreams: A Novel
by Curtis Sittenfeld (Adult)
16. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book 7)
by J.K. Rowling (Middle Grade)
15. Diary: A Novel
by Chuck Palahniuk (Adult)
14. Stargirl/Love, Stargirl Boxed Set
by Jerry Spinelli (YA)
13. Sold
by Patricia McCormick (YA)
12. Are We There Yet?
by David Levithan (YA)
11. Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac
by Gabrielle Zevin (YA)
10. Boy Toy
by Barry Lyga (YA)
9. Slam
by Nick Hornby (YA)
8. The Perks of Being a Wallflower
by Stephen Chbosky (YA)
7. The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Volume I: The Pox Party
by M.T. Anderson (YA)
6. Tyrell
by Coe Booth
5. Feed
by M.T. Anderson
4. Fourth Comings: A Jessica Darling Novel
by Megan McCafferty
3. I Am the Messenger
by Markus Zusak
2. Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The
by E. Lockhart
1. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
by Sherman Alexie
Favorite 2008 Reads
To read my reviews.... Start Here!
Best All-Around 2008 Reads
10. Love Is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time
by Rob Sheffield (Adult Memoir)
9. The Awakening
by Kate Chopin (Adult Fiction)
8. The Book Thief
by Markus Zusak (YA Fiction)
7. Fat Kid Rules the World
by K.L. Going (YA Fiction)
6. The Year of Magical Thinking
by Joan Didion (Adult Memoir)
5. Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith
by Jon Krakauer (Adult NonFiction)
4. Gingerbread
by Rachel Cohn (YA Fiction)
3. Better: A Surgeon's Notes on Performance
by Atul Gawande (Adult NonFiction)
2. Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia
by Elizabeth Gilbert (Adult Memoir)
1. Life As We Knew It
by Susan Beth Pfeffer (Young Adult Fiction)
Graphic Novels
1. Chiggers
by Hope Larsen (Middle Grade)
2. Blankets
by Craig Thompson (YA)
3. The Complete Persepolis
by Marjane Satrapi (YA/Adult)
4. Thoreau at Walden
by John Porcellino (Middle Grade/YA)
5. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic
by Alison Bechdel (Adult)
Adult Fiction
1.Then We Came to the End: A Novel
by Joshua Ferris
2. Rise and Shine: A Novel
by Anna Quindlen
3. Choke
by Chuck Palahniuk
4. In Cold Blood
by Truman Capote
5. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
by Junot Diaz
Middle Grade Fiction
1. Edward's Eyes
by Patricia MacLachlan
2. Chains
by Laurie Halse Anderson
3. Miss Spitfire: Reaching Helen Keller
by Sarah Miller
Page Turners
1. Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction
by David Sheff (Adult)
2.Monster
by Walter Dean Myers (YA)
3. An Inconvenient Book: Real Solutions to the World's Biggest Problems
by Glenn Beck (Adult NonFiction)
4. the dead and the gone
by Susan Beth Pfeffer (YA)
5. Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science
by Atul Gawande (Adult NonFiction)
6. Lessons from a Dead Girl
by Jo Knowles (YA)
7. Into the Wild
by Jon Krakauer (Adult/YA Nonfiction)
Poetry
1. I Heart You, You Haunt Me
by Lisa Schroeder (YA Fiction)
2. A Wreath for Emmett Till
by Marilyn Nelson (YA NonFiction)
3. Your Own, Sylvia: A Verse Portrait of Sylvia Plath
by Stephanie Hemphill (YA Fiction)
Memoirs
1. The Glass Castle: A Memoir
by Jeannette Walls
2. Escape
by Carolyn Jessop
3. Helping Me Help Myself: One Skeptic, Ten Self-Help Gurus, and a Year on the Brink of the Comfort Zone
by Beth Lisick
4. Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance
by Barack Obama
5. The Tender Bar: A Memoir
by J.R. Moehringer
Young Adult Fiction
1. Suite Scarlett
by Maureen Johnson
2. Chasing Tail Lights
by Patrick Jones
3. Lock and Key
by Sarah Dessen
4. You Know Where to Find Me
by Rachel Cohn
5. Paper Towns
by John Green
Adult NonFiction
1. The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich
by Timothy Ferriss
2.Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
by Donald Miller
3. Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith
by Anne Lamott
4. The Nine: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court
by Jeffrey Toobin
5. The Thing About Life Is That One Day You'll Be Dead
by David Shields
I like going to bed. I like being asleep. I like getting up and I like eating breakfast.
I eat two fried eggs and oatmeal.
I don't like getting ready to leave because it's annoying and there is critical thought and application of skills involved. What should I wear? How can I make my hair look like a normal person's hair? How much food will I need to bring with me in relation to the amount of time I will be away from the house? Where did I put my keys this time?
But I do like my little commute. Walking to the train station. Sitting in the same seat I always sit in. Walking to school.
I read while I walk and ride on the train.
And I like reading.
The rest of my days, though, plague me and I get unusually excited when it's time for bed again.
Ever read It's Kind of a Funny Story? By Ned Vizzini? Awesome book. Read it now before the movie comes out next year - and take a LOOK at that cast list, why dontcha? It's a comedy about a clinically depressed teenager named Craig I loved it. I want to read it again, nowish.
Anyway, I think I would like my life it was 100% scripted. Maybe it's something I subconsciously move toward - versions of my future life that put me in the position of control and offer measured results.
When I get to the point where, like Craig, peeing is my favorite part of the day?
Let me know I need some serious help.
Right now I'm just pleasantly anal retentive.
I think.
to buy a Dr. Seuss Christmas tree.
Like this cute chandelier from PBTeen, because my aesthetics have yet to evolve to full-fledged Pottery Barn yet.
...or this print from Logophilia to hang in my kitchen.
And of course, I have academic desires as well as homey apartment ones. Somehow, I really think my academic career requires one of these:
from the MargaretandWalter etsy shop. I don't remember why exactly I wanted one of these so badly, but I can't really figure out why not, either.
But I really do need a new set of highlighters
and I will settle for nothing less than th 12 dollar pack of Sharpie Accents. Sorry. I have almost bought myself a pack twice now, but am biding my time. I still have a few hanging in there (the rest I used all the way up to their dried out, squeaking death) but I miss the full set. My life REQUIRES a full set.
And my life requires some fancy new notebooks
Maybe a few Clairefontaines?
And even though I know would hate using such a tiny, tiny planner, I can't get my mind off these
Twelve little daily Moleskine planners, one for each month. Be still, my heart.
But I really did ask my parents for this one:
Because exercise is not fitting so neatly into my life right now, and this might be a nice supplement to all my walking. And it's fun. And I've heard it's even more fun than the first game!
And of course, there are book. A few from the Amazon wishlist would be nice
The Flavor Bible - Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg
A Book of Luminous Things - Czeslaw Milosz
Mastering the Art of French Cooking - Julia Child
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn - Betty Smith
But I'm really okay with that. Maybe it's a sorry attitude toward life, but this is what I signed up for. Eleven graduate credits and twenty hours of work. I'm turning my papers in on time, have 99% perfect attendance, and I've read 69 books.
And now, there are only three left on the syllabus.
It's almost over.
What will next semester be like?
How can I do it better?
Lance told me to go in and be a bitch. Demand justice. Refuse further payment. Get what I want.
He knows that's not my style - actually, it's the farthest thing imaginable from my style - but he recognizes that sometimes my style doesn't necessarily get me what I want. Which is why, in our household of two, he is in charge of all phonecalls to Comcast, and anything bought on Craigslist.
I didn't yell. I didn't have to. Isn't that nice about Apple? You don't have to raise a big stink to be treated well. My laptop will be fixed, soon, and further cost will be waived. Hallelujah.
You see, I miss my computer. It's not that urgent, phantom limb feeling; like being away from part of yourself, your electronic being floating around somewhere without you. I've had that before. This feeling is a little more subtle.
I miss my routines. My morning date with Open Office, where I wrote most days in the month of November. I wake up early, still, and find myself without anything to do. I go to school early. I make ridiculous 8:15 a.m. dates at the Apple Store. I'm a little listless. I miss the concreteness of knowing where my homework will be done - on the futon, or in my bed, at the table in the cafeteria of my school with a friend similarly plugged into her own laptop. My last paper was composed on five different machines.
I miss going to bed before Lance, turning on yet another Grey's Anatomy episode and letting George and Izzy put me to sleep (the old episodes, when Izzy was still interesting and George was still geeky-dreamy).
I miss my blogs. I don't do Google Reader. I just do bookmarks. And I miss those who I read, like friends I haven't talked to. (Okay, I probably miss them more than friends I haven't talked to, since I actually don't talk to my friends all that much)
And what's worse is that I keep forgetting it's gone. I go about my life, and only when I throw myself onto the futon after a long day do I remember "Oh, my computer is broken" and it hurts.
So I read a book instead.
When I was on my epic Thanksgiving Adventure, I had a lot of caffeine. Because I was doing a lot of driving, and driving requires caffeine (or at least from what I remembered, seeing as I don't drive in Boston). Also, hanging out with my sisters requires caffeine, if for no other reason than to just keep up with their very welcome, albeit constant demands. ("Let's drive to Manchester!" "My cookie dough is broken! Fix it!")
I expected some kind of backlash. As you might remember, all I usually drink is 1 can of Diet Something and get on with my life. But I had Rockstars. Canned doubleshots. Multiple cans of Diet Somethings. Felt no worse for the wear.
Once a week or so, I do go to Starbucks here, to get a single shot of something sweet. Mostly to combat a VERY tired morning, or to help with that Thursday, Why Can't It Be Friday slump.
This morning was one of those VERY tired mornings, and I woke knowing I had a lot on my plate. I was late to my appointment at the Apple Store, had to miss morning class, and have been in the school library ever since pushing out this paper that is SO. EPICALLY. BAD. Then I have a few hours of class to look forward to! And we didn't get home until 9 last night.
So I ordered a Double Tall Peppermint Mocha with Skim Milk and Whipped Cream. Delicious. My mood was sky high this morning, especially when the Geniuses called me at TEN A.M. to tell my computer was done, and they quoted me 80 bucks less than the other Geniuses. I was talking fast, talking loudly, typing and printing and checking the internet and listening to music! And being so happy about it all! In control.
And now, I'm hazy in the caffeine crash. I'm hot and cold and weird, my stomach feeling crazy, not sure what to do with the food it was so hungry for, and I feel distinctly like I need to detox. Like it was a mistake. Like I want nothing more than to fast forward time until I can sleep and start over again in the morning.
You let me down again, caffeine. You lift me up, then drop me on my ass, and I feel like an idiot. Again.
I'm probably different too, but in a same enough kind of way. I used to stay up after everyone went to sleep, and now I'm looking for a dark room, any dark room, to lie down in at 11:00 p.m. I'm the first one to bed.
I walked in the door and I don't even remember my apartment in Boston. This is where I belong. I suddenly hate my apartment, for being too small, too empty, for smelling weird and feeling so cold.
The only thing that draws me back to the East Coast is this schoolwork. Grad school stops for no holiday weekend. There are still books to read (seven), tedious papers to write (two), even more tedious pages of assignments (sixteen).
So I read four,
Nation by Terry Pratchett, which was long and interesting but completely devoid of any inspiration for the paperwriting that must ensue today,
Stay! Keeper's Story by Lois Lowry, which was probably one of my favorite Lowry books, strangely enough, being as it is a first person narrative of a dog's life,
Looking Back: A Book of Memories by Lois as well. I found it thoughtful and inspiring and, thankfully, short, and
Gathering Blue. No, it wasn't as good as The Giver, and the threads that join the two companion books seem tenuous.
I've also been drinking energy drinks, which is neither as fun nor as painful as I thought it would be. Eating too much. There are some things that should never be in my kitchen. Most of those things fall under the category of Sour Cream and Cheddar. Sitting. Feeling thankful that, even though I hate my apartment, I get out of the house and walk somewhere almost every day. And that, no matter how much this pains me on some days, there is no convenient place for me to buy canned and bottled beverages on my way to my every day activities.
I have been talking to my grandparents, helping my sister make cookies, unloading the dishwasher, going to the bar, waiting in line outside Target at 4:30 in the morning, taking a guided tour of the old prison, allowing Say Yes to the Dress toy with my emotions, using my sister's laptop, sleeping on the couch, and waking up with a sore neck kind of headache.
Four days is a long time but not long enough.
We have read a good number of Printz winner, Newbery Awards both old and new. We read books for young children published in 1944 (Nineteen Forty-Four! Books older than our parents!) and books for older teens with late 2009 pub dates (although those are somewhat annoying to find at the library).
I like it. I do, I do. It makes me happy, to be reading all these books that I would never read otherwise, and it's making me want to read more widely, just because now I know it's just as much fun as reading narrowly. If that makes sense.
Anywho, this week I spent a few hours reading this gem of a retro-read
This book didn't win any awards, in 1956 when it was published. It has very few redeeming features, no plot to speak of, and Jane is the precursor to every modern YA narrator whose sole personality trait is "low self esteem."
That being said, I am happy to read new things, and I was totally into this book. In an ironic kind of way. Like watching Stick It.
It did, however, bring some new perspective to my life.
- I am glad girls are now allowed to call up boys. Many a chapter of Jane's teen angst could be solved if she was allowed to do anything more than wait by the phone.
- I am glad Chinese food has been sufficiently Americanized that I am not de facto afraid of eating it. I've never sat and stressed about the precise contents of my moo goo gai pan because it never occurred to me that I should do anything other than eat it and say "mmmmmmm."
- I am glad doggy diets do not regularly consist of freshly delivered horse meat.
- I am glad YA books that use the phrase "horse meat" more than five times in a chapter are a thing of the past.
- I am glad that I have never felt a compulsion to order coffee when I wanted a chocolate coke float, to dress like the most popular girl in school to impress a boy, or to be anything other than my charming (or not so) self around guys. Maybe this is unusual, but it has saved me a lot of stress over the years.
- I am glad I get to read crazy books like this one and then go to class and listen to how my classmates will attempt to academicize it for 90 minutes. My life's entertainment these days.
All that good feeling aside, my MacBook broke this morning. The backlight mechanism has failed. So I can't see my screen. And the Geniuses say 180 bucks. Which I don't really have.
What I do have is 1/3 of a novel left to write in 8 days, including 2 days spent entirely in a vehicle, and three more weeks of class.
And a backup desktop, I guess.
And my boyfriend calls me back.
I'll let you know if I ever figure out what that is.
Anyway, I have some exciting news for you.
News #1: Phillip Hoose takes home the National Book Award!
If you guys missed my earlier post, I'll let you know that I am taking a course called The Writer's Achievement, in which we read the entire body of an author's work, and then have the unique privilege to have that author visit our very small class and chat with us. In this case, Mr. Hoose's editor at Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Melanie Kroupa, stopped by for a bit as well. Here is what I had to say about the experience.
Hoose's 2009 book, Claudette Colvin: Twice Towards Justice was nominated for an NBA the week before we were slated to read it for class, about two weeks before Mr. Hoose was slated to visit our class. As a class, we had a collective stake in his success, especially when he talked about the difficulties nonfiction written for youth faces in the critical, award-centered publishing world. We were all rooting for him. And he took the award home last night, accepting alongside Ms. Colvin herself. And he wore the same sweater he wore to class. Little insider info there.
It's really a unique book, very informative, interesting, and very personal. Both book and author definitely worthy of national praise and attention.
News #2: Jessica and Lance are getting a kitten!
But not until we go home for Christmas.
Because right now, it looks like this:
It's the orange one!
How we are going to get a kitten from Michigan to Massachusetts is another story. One that either Lance will deal with, in the car, by himself, or one that will cost 69 dollars and require me to sacrifice my carry-on space, and therefore another 15 bucks.
There's really a kind of long, funny story about how these kittens came to be, but I'm too sleepy to figure out how to translate it into the written word.
Remind me to tell it later.
But my new best friend, Michael Pollan, assures me that some level of emotional attachment to food is a good thing. It's probably not okay to kill your existential pain with bowls of ice cream and bags of Cheetos (the crunchy kind, please), but it's okay to think about food, to think about what particular food you might want to eat, to think about how that kind of food will affect your morning/day/sleep/waistline, et cetera. And it's okay to think about all that and say "whatever, I want some gd Twinkies." Every so often.
You'll have to read In Defense of Food to really logic that one out, but trust me, if Michael Pollan says it, I'm buying it.
Anywho. I have always felt strongly about the healing properties of well-placed snack. I have had a rough weekend. At a time I am usually doing my reading for tomorrow's classes, I am still writing my paper for tomorrow's classes. Which means the reading is not done. Which means the NaNo writing isn't getting done. Which means I am crying.
So I made myself a Magical Get Yourself Together Snack.
Part I:
Cheddar Jack Cheez-Its,
for deliciousness.
Part II:
Macintosh apple with PB & Nutella,
for micronutrients,
protein,
and blood sugar.
Part III:
Ice water,
for watery wonderfulness.
Part IV:
Emergen-C,
for health, immunity, and energy.
Although stay far, far away from this flavor.
It is so gross.
I have to plug my nose, tip back my throat
and pretend it's tequila.
Two hours later, my reading is still untouched, but my paper looks like it will be written by tomorrow. My hope is that it will be finished by 3:30 tomorrow, and won't be so convoluted she will make me rewrite because it's not Deconstructionist enough.
That is it.
Maybe I need to invent a Magically Optimistic Wonder Meal next.
I want to see my sisters. Wait. Let me correct that emphasis. I WANT TO SEE MY SISTERS! That's better. I also want to see my parents and my doggies and my friends and play The Sims 3.
Nevermind I will have my regular homework obligations to fulfill, as well as NaNoWriMo wordcounts.
It's going to be one heck of a weekend. Good thing I like road trips. I even like two 16 hour road trips in 5 days. We're leaving on Wednesday, coming back to Boston on Sunday. Back to class and work on Monday.
I also want to eat some torkey. Specifically, leftover torkey. Mmmmm hot browns. If you guys haven't had hot browns yet, you should probably give up on life. Or make some. I'll post the recipe sometime.
This entry was brought to you by the powers of procrastination. Deconstruction is hard. And by hard, I mean impossible. And by impossible, I mean, I should probably give up on life. And by that, I mean, I'm going home to eat hot browns and I'm not coming back.
Although I tried. I tried to go to work today, I really did. Unfortunately, when the school is closed, the school is literally locked and closed and don't try to get in, even if you left your NaNoWriMo novel on the harddrive of your work computer and really, you just wanted to get it back.
It occurs to me that this is what it would feel like if school were my only priority. I could read 100 pages of Octavian Nothing, write 1,000 words, shower, run to work and back (or something that had a point but would take just as long) and still have time to plan out some dinner, cook it, watch Glee, and knock back some homework.
Gee, wouldn't that be nice?
Some classmates in my program do just that. Others take two classes and work, and then look at me wide-eyed when they find out I'm taking three. Some are in the same boat as I am.
It's not a bad boat to be in. Although I see, on my single Day Off of the semester, some of the things I am giving up. Like magazine collages. Napping. Penning visually appealing blog posts about interesting topics. Some kitchen creativity. Compiling all my Read Along At Home Guides from 2006 to 2009 in one gigantic spreadsheet.
I'm curious how other people - especially those in my program - do the work-life balance. It's really the most compelling problem in my life right now, and has been for a few years.
How can I make it all fit?
Which will probably be the peak of my semester. Both emotionally and academically.
The winning paper was...
Small Stories and the Greater Whole:
Interpreting Plot in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
So we celebrated.
I went to Athan's European Bakery and bought a Caramello pastry. It was probably the best thing I've ever eaten.
And Lance got a haircut and pretended to play the saxophone.
And then I went to bed at 10:30 p.m. Just like I do every night.
On one hand, I usually can't wait until 2 pm on Friday. Two whole days (and an afternoon) to myself! Sleeping in! Wine drinking! Apartment cleaning! Grocery shopping! Lance! Lance! Lance!
These are the kind of things that turn my crank.
I do get to do those things. But when I'm not at the grocery or scrubbing the tiles of my bathroom, I'm probably holed up in my room, trying to read Derrida, trying to write a paper on the oldest book I read all year, trying not to cry because I suddenly have 8 hours to do all the work I thought I could do over the weekend.
Now I have a crazy little thing called NaNoWriMo in the mix. During the week, I dreamily imagine catching up on my wordcount, permitting a little weekday slacking in the name of classes and reading and general brain fatigue.
Saturday was the first day I haven't met my daily quota. And I missed it by a whopping 900 words.
And didn't get any schoolwork done save for reading The Hundred Dresses a hundred times and trying not to cry so loud that Lance couldn't hear himself playing the saxophone.
Sunday, I did the impossible. I did finish my paper. A B minus paper. I gave up on Derrida, but did run my eyes over all the reading. I thought about what a nice dinner I had with Ms. Anné Thompson and her mommy, and how fun it would be if she moved to Boston. I caught up on my missing words. I read some more on that book not on my syllabus and finished the one that was.
And I did acquire two things that my heart has been desiring. Desiring badly badly.
Exhibit #1:
The exact TV stand I was eying from IKEA. I don't even want to talk to you about The Furniture Wars around this apartment. Let's just say I'm dying to decorate and Lance is dying to do other things. Like eat food and buy gas and things. Anyway, somebody WHO LIVED TWO BLOCKS AWAY FROM US bought it last weekend, put it together, and decided it was too big. Posted it on Craigslist for 35 bucks.
And now it's mine.
Exhibit #2:
Three years ago, I bought a pair of jeans. I ripped a hole in the crotch earlier in the summer and had Betsy sew me a patch. I put them on and went to work. They were my favorite jeans - comfy and stretchy and made my butt look nice, and long enough - but they cost me 75 bucks. So I was hoping to squeeze another year or two. Get my money's worth.
Unfortunately, the other side of the crotch began to shred recently, and since I no longer travel by car, I can't keep spare pants in my trunk in case of emergencies. So I stopped wearing them. Which meant I needed to wear my other pair of jeans, the ones purchased in 2003 when my butt was a bit smaller than it is now. And before I developed a physical aversion to that phenomenon known as Muffin Top. As in, I would rather go pantsless than have the side of my hips be gouged (or touched, really) by denim.
Enter, Filene's Basement.
Where I did a silly thing. I bought a pair of jeans a size BIGGER than my favorite jeans, which were actually a size bigger than I would have liked to think I could wear. And they are LOOSE. Which makes me feel skinny, like my jeans are making me look fatter than I am, and like I need to figure out how to induce shrinkage/alter pants.
But they were 25 bucks.
Two problems solved for 60 USD.
Holla!
