I Guess You Guys Didn't Like It...

     I guess you-my dear devoted, loving readers- didn't enjoy my video.  I only got NINE pageviews.  I usually get at least twenty.  That hurt.  I thought for certain that you all would enjoy it, but alas twas not to be.  I'll never do it, EVER.  Never ever ever.  Not in a million years will I make you all another video.  Even when I thought I was hilarious. Hmph.  I must give the people what they want right?  That's democracy for you. 
     I hate politics so lets take a different turn in the conversation.
     I would like to hear from you.  Tell me what you think-not politics related-, I suggest you take this chance because usually I'm not open for it.  I don't even reply to comments.  Not that I don't LOVE getting comments.  I do, I really really do enjoy getting comments.  I usually just don't know what to say in reply.




I can't believe I didn't even get one comment on my video. Sigh.

Romeo and Juliet: VIDEO!

     Today I felt like a video.  A video about Romeo and Juliet.  Enjoy!

     1.  This is pretty rough, I have no idea how to edit.
     2.  I wouldn't want to edit it or redo it though because I think it's funny just the way it is.
     3.  I say stupid a lot since I'm speaking and not typing so I'm not using the first words that come to mind.
     4.  If you're wondering why I didn't vary my word choices it's because what I am saying in this video are my thoughts at the time of it.  No previous for thought as you can tell by how unprepared I am.
     5.  I'm sorry that this is so long, but it's my first.  I'll make the next one short.

Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt.

     I had no idea that this book existed until my English gave an excerpt of it as a last minute assignment the other day.  It's a memoir of the life of Frank McCourt, a boy born in the U.S. who moved to Ireland with his family after the death of a younger sibling.  While there he lived in serious poverty and under the command of an alcoholic father who disappeared days at a time and then eventually went away all together.
     He developed Typhoid fever- this was decades ago, I'm not entirely sure of the time line-and was put into a ward with another girl who was in for different reasons.  They were banned from speaking to each other because different disease victims weren't allowed to intermingle.  But really, what were they suppose to do when they're left to themselves all day?  I thing nuns are just evil.

     Mr. McCourt writes as if he's talking directly to you, not in a typical writing fashion.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 4 of the book, enjoy:

First Communion day is the happiest day of your life because of The Collection and James Cagney at the Lyric Cinema. The night before I was so excited I couldn't sleep till dawn. I'd still be sleeping if my grandmother hadn't come banging at the door.

Get up! Get up! Get that child outa the bed. Happiest day of his life an' him snorin' above in the bed.

I ran to the kitchen. Take off that shirt, she said. I took off the shirt and she pushed me into a tin tub of icy cold water. My mother scrubbed me, my grandmother scrubbed me. I was raw, I was red.

They dried me. They dressed me in my black velvet First Communion suit with the white frilly shirt, the short pants, the white stockings, the black patent leather shoes. Around my arm they tied a white satin bow and on my lapel they pinned the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a picture with blood dripping from it, flames erupting all around it and on top a nasty-looking crown of thorns.

Come here till I comb your hair, said Grandma. Look at that mop, it won't lie down. You didn't get that hair from my side of the family. That's that North of Ireland hair you got from your father. That's the kind of hair you see on Presbyterians. If your mother had married a proper decent Limerick man you wouldn't have this standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair.

She spat twice on my head.
Grandma, will you please stop spitting on my head.
If you have anything to say, shut up. A little spit won't kill you. Come on, we'll be late for the Mass.

We ran to the church. My mother panted along behind with Michael in her arms. We arrived at the church just in time to see the last of the boys leaving the altar rail where the priest stood with the chalice and the host, glaring at me. Then he placed on my tongue the wafer, the body and blood of Jesus. At last, at last.

It's on my tongue. I draw it back.
It stuck.
I had God glued to the roof of my mouth. I could hear the master's voice, Don't let that host touch your teeth for if you bite God in two you'll roast in hell for eternity. I tried to get God down with my tongue but the priest hissed at me, Stop that clucking and get back to your seat. God was good. He melted and I swallowed Him and now, at last, I was a member of the True Church, an official sinner.

When the Mass ended there they were at the door of the church, my mother with Michael in her arms, my grandmother. They each hugged me to their bosoms. They each told me it was the happiest day of my life. They each cried all over my head and after my grandmother's contribution that morning my head was a swamp.

Mam, can I go now and make The Collection?
She said, After you have a little breakfast.
No, said Grandma. You're not making no collection till you have a proper First Communion breakfast at my house. Come on.

We followed her. She banged pots and rattled pans and complained that the whole world expected her to be at their beck and call. I ate the egg, I ate the sausage, and when I reached for more sugar for my tea she slapped my hand away.

Go easy with that sugar. Is it a millionaire you think I am? An American? Is it bedecked in glitterin' jewelry you think I am? Smothered in fancy furs?

The food churned in my stomach. I gagged. I ran to her backyard and threw it all up. Out she came.

Look at what he did. Thrun up his First Communion breakfast. Thrun up the body and blood of Jesus. I have God in me backyard. What am I goin' to do? I'll take him to the Jesuits for they know the sins of the Pope himself.

She dragged me through the streets of Limerick. She told the neighbors and passing strangers about God in her backyard. She pushed me into the confession box.

May the Bridges I Burn Light the Way.

It's quote day here on Longstory Isle!  So here a few of my favorite quotes:

I've Been Busy.

     In case you're wondering (and I know you are because I'm just that interesting) why I've been quiet for the past few days it's because I have been rather busy.

1. I had a track meet Friday, so I was pretty busy all Friday evening helping at the start/finish line and running.  Well not really running.  I only run two events and one of them got canceled because of all the rain.  I hate rain.  So so much.  And so I only ran one race, which happened to be the very last one.  but hey!  We got second in the 4x4! (Which is the race I ran with three other teammates)  The boys and girls team also got FIRST OVER ALL!!!

2.  I went a friends house on Saturday and I didn't bring my laptop.

3.  I went to see The Lorax and spent eighty-one dollars at the bookstore. :3  I love the bookstore.  I swear, if they hadn't replaced the coffee place with a yogurt place I could live there.  The eighty-one dollars I spent isn't as bad as the one hundred and fifty I spent once before that. Be proud of me, I restrained myself.

How Much Do You Spend On Your Animals?

     Frankly, I don't care how much you spend on your animal.  That question just had something to do with the prompt I had to write for the Westest.  I had to write about how much people spend on their animals and explain why I think they do it.
     To say the least, I pointed out how ridiculous that prompt was multiple times in the essay while simultaneously writing about the actually prompt.  You see, I answered it, but I insulted it at the same time.  It takes a true genius to do that. ;3

My English Class.

   In my English class my teacher is preparing us for the God awful Writing Assessment- part of the big state test.  That means that we have to write A LOT of 5x5 essay's and not only in English class.  They assign you a prompt, which is usually stupid, and you have to write a five paragraph and five sentences in each.
      I won't do it.  Write about the school dress code you say?  Describe an animal you say?  Write about your best friend you say?  Write about nanananananananananana you say?  NO.  And then we're suppose to make those charts that "help" organize your essay because apparently EVERYONE does it.  It apparently IS SO HELPFUL that I can't even understand the amount of help it's providing.
     WRONG.  I won't do it.  If I have to write a 5x5 I'll write about whatever I damn well please.  I'm the one writing it, not you.  The Writing Assessment already has idiot prompts, I don't need to write anymore that I have to.  The charts, we don't even are allowed to use a chart while taking it.  I can't even do the blasted chart to describe an animal.  So, I just use the chart to point out the faults of the chart and then I write an essay about whatever I feel like it.  Today I was suppose to write one about motivation, I wrote about some guy who's going to die instead.  Cheery right? 

    For the love of Cheeses, please let this be over with soon.

Chickens.

     I'm not a very big fan of chickens, but if there is any chicken I admire it's the one from the Nun's Priest's Tale in the Canterbury Tales.  He outsmarted a fox! Do you know how hard that is to do?  Foxes are pretty foxy after all.  This chicken though, is the foxiest chicken I've ever read about.  He is one cool cat.  He's the cool bean.  Fonzier than the Fonz! Give it up for Chauntecleer! 
      This bird could challenge Ol' Blue Eyes for a Grammy with his amazing voice.  But don't ever listen to his favorite wife, Pertelote, for she is sure to almost get you killed.  Telling you to ignore all forewarning of a drastic event.
     Take care now, and remember, may the bridges you burn light the way.

P.S. I sincerely hope that you know who Ol' Blue Eyes.  If you don't, I'm not sure you're fit to live.

IT by Stephen King.

     Have you ever read a Stephen King novel?  Pretty scary.  I actually couldn't finish IT because it freaked me out so much.  You see, I've seen the movie.  The  movie is actually why I greatly, deeply, and irrevocably don't like being near a clown.  Or street drains.  I hate street drains.  When I was little I used to go on walks with my Grandmother.  She lived in a really nice neighborhood with sidewalks (sidewalks aren't common where I live) and street drains just like the ones in the movie.  I always made sure I walked above the street drain and never in the road in front of it.  I can just imagine the vile fanged clowns voice calling my name... *shuddershudder*

Motivation.

     I'm lacking the motivation to finish The Canterbury Tales.  Some of the stories are works of art, but then you have the other ones... The REALLY boring stories.... My God, I don't know if I can keep doing it.  I promised you all that I would finish it, so I haven't given up on it yet.  Dear God though, it's draining the life out of me with the boring stories.  The good ones are very good, but they're shorter than the boring ones.  Holy Mother of Cheeses, I'm bored.

Happiness.

   I would like to thank everyone who read and replied to my last post.  I appreciate the advise, thank you!

     Now on to the wonderful wonderful news I have!

     Sharon Lathan, the author of the Darcy Saga has made me the happiest girl ALIVE.  She sent me nine-NINE-autographed items.  Two autographed bookmarks and SEVEN signed bookplates.  SO HAPPY. She also sent two business like cards and two Darcy Saga bookmarks.  SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY.

     Rachel Caine, the author of the Morganville Vampires Series has also sent me a signed bookplate and a Ghost Town bookmark.

     You have absolutely no idea how happy I was when I got them in the mail.  These are two of my FAVORITE authors and I'm just so happy that they give their reader's who don't have the opportunity to go see them in person to receive signed items through the mail.  I LOVE getting mail.

     Curious as to how you can receive similar items?  Check out these sites to learn more:
http://sharonlathanauthor.com/contact/book-plates-book-marks

http://www.rachelcaine.com/Rachel_Caine_-_Writer/About_Me.html

Please note that I'm not sure if the Rachel Caine site is still doing the signed bookmarks.  You'll have to look around a bit in order to find it I believe.
I'm fairly certain that Sharon Lathan is still doing the via mail signing.

To Make Up For Missing Several Days.

     To make up for missing several days of posts and halfassing one yesterday I'll post what I have from Scars on the Heart.  It's not much still since I haven't had much time to work on it, but you all seemed to enjoy it last time so I'll share with you the updated version.


Ignore the spelling and grammatical errors.

Better yet, correct them in a comment!

She was exotic, her and her brothers to the students of Cappa High in Mountain View, Washington.  All eyes landed on them as they made their way through the lunch room.  The two boys- Casper and Jasper- walking on either side of Geneviere.  To the others they’re the new kids, the rare batch of triplets who are unbelievably close.

            In reality though, they’re first cousins born on the same day, the same year, and in the same hospital.  To each other they felt like fibers of the same thread.  So as usual, the two boys claimed their lovely cousin as sister and she in return claimed them as brothers.

            To the twin boys it was new.  Though they had traveled the world helping people, they had always been enrolled at the same schools in their hometown.  They were here for only one reason though- to make sure Geneviere adjusted well to the semi-normal everyday life she would be returning to.

            Geneviere was a shy but worldly 5’5½” tall young woman.  She had steel blue eyes that always appeared to be shouldering something but you never know what.  Her hair was kept at shoulder length and it always lied on the balance between dishwater blonde and light brown with slight red highlights.  She had a scar that ran across her cheekbone in a diagonal manner, which always drew the first notice of attention from anyone.  She wore a menagerie of bracelets collected from across the world on her wrists.  The bracelets changed daily, but the one constant was a heart shaped locket around her neck.  On one side lies a cross, the other a skeleton key.

            To Geneviere this was just another school, another town, another place in time that will blend in with so many others.  From a young age she started traveling the world due to a heartbreaking event.  Her parents divorced when she was six and in the settlement her mother, Sarah McClain, got full custody over her more responsible and less erratic father, Thomas Johnson.

            Geneviere has carried around a feeling of unwantedness when regards of her father’s feelings towards her.  Ever since Jackson’s death a lot has changed in her immediate family.  Her mother set off immediately after the divorce to California where she buried her grief in work and men.

            Thomas left the family ranch in Gatesville, Texas and moved up north to the large property he owned in Mountain View, Washington.  Thomas was still figure at the family’s global business, but he did not participate actively.  Unlike his ex-wife, he drew into himself and refrained from making any important decisions.

            On reflection though, Geneviere realizes that Thomas probably wasn’t in the best state of mind during the custody hearing.  It had only been a year since Jackson’s death and he was Dad’s little cowboy.  That had been a rough year.  Sarah and Thomas needed someone to blame for the tragic death of their son, Geneviere’s twin brother, Jackson.  The two parents couldn’t find it in themselves to blame Geneviere or the boys for Jackson’s death.  They blamed themselves and that in turn ruined their marriage because they couldn’t move past their own anger and self blame.

            No one ever stopped to think about how much Geneviere blamed herself…

            “Gen?”  The sound of Casper calling her name drew her back to the present.

            “Huh?..” 

            “Where do you want to sit?  With those kids we met in third or by ourselves?”  Both of the boys were watching her closely for any signs of distress.  It had been a long time since Geneviere tried to make friends.

            “Did they invite us to sit with them?  I don’t want to assume…”

            “They just did Gen, it’ll be alright.  You’ll be alright, we’re right here with you, but come April we won’t be and we want to make sure you make friends who will look out for you.”  Jasper said carefully.

            Geneviere gave an exasperated sigh; they were always worrying about her.  For Christ’s sake, she’s been through the Amazon supplying aid to those in need.  She’s forged through Ethiopia healing the wounded and feeding the starving, abandoned children.  For the life of her though, she can’t handle average kids her own age.

            “Yeah, let’s go make friends.”  She tried and failed to sound excited.

            “Well, that was interesting.”  Casper claimed as they climbed the front porch of Thomas’ home.  The house was of decent size, fit for a family not a lonely middle aged man.  Geneviere had always been weary of visiting her Father.  It had always been a solemn occasion for the both of them.  Thomas never had anything to offer Geneviere and she never asked for anything.  Her whole life she had always had enough money to get whatever she desired, but just like the rest of her family no one had ever felt the need to live beyond their means.

            “Everyone was very nice.”  Geneviere amended.  But just how many of them were sincere in their intent?  Geneviere thought to herself.

            “I know what you’re thinking, Gen.  Stop it, you don’t have to trust them right off the bat.  People can be nice without wanting anything from it.  You’re nice all the time and never ask for anything in return.”  Jasper stated stubbornly.

            “That’s because we were brought up differently than kids now-a-days.  For the first eight years of our life we were taught by Greaty.  He brought us up as if were from the 1920’s rather than the 1990’s.  Thank God for that, if I were like some of these kids today I’d pray for someone to shoot me.”

            “Yeah, I’m pretty glad that I got the chance to learn things teenagers these days don’t have the opportunity.”  Said Casper, shooting Jasper a dirty look, trying to communicate to him that Geneviere doesn’t need this on her conscience.  Jasper, realizing what his twin was trying to say tried to lighten the mood,

            “Like how we can speak all languages of amor.”  As Jasper reached the end of the hallway he gave a seductive turn, winked, and said, “Avez-vous besoin de moi?”  Much to their effort, Geneviere and Casper couldn’t help but laugh.

            “Je suis un homme désolé, mais personne ne veut cela.”  Casper said with a laugh.  Geneviere rolled her eyes and pushed her way past Jasper who was blocking the entrance to the main room.  As she laid down her stuff beside the couch she ask,

            “Do you guys want anything to eat?  I peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a side of milk is sounding pretty good to me right now.”  Neither of the boys pointed out that that was only because she ceased to eat anything during lunch.

            “Sure, I’ll pour the milk, Jae can spread the jelly and then you can spread the peanut butter.  It’ll be an assembly line!”  Casper said with way to much enthusiasm.  Geneviere and Jasper chuckled at him and followed him into the kitchen.  Casper and Geneviere went straight to the cupboard holding the glasses and plates as Jasper walked over to the fridge to get out the peanut butter, jelly, and milk.

            Casually as Jasper started spreading the grape jelly on the first slice of wheat bread he spoke, “You did well today Gen, just keep your head up.  I know that Casper and I can be a bit too optimistic for you, but when someone is as pessimistic as you are it takes two people to balance it out!”  He finished with a smile, trying not to offend her.

            “I’m not that pessimistic.  I’m sure I’ll do fine here; I’m just out of my element.  It’s been a while since I’ve gone to a normal school.  Not to mention a normal school full of people who I don’t know.  When I lived with you guys I was homebound, but I still had friends in the community who I’ve known my whole life.  Here, I’m an outsider with no one on my side of the line.”

Casper butted in, “And since when haven’t you been an outsider?  Gen you’ve traveled the world, Hell, you lived with the Afar for two months one summer.”  

“That was different; I knew that was only for a few months.  I wasn’t going to stay there for two years.  On top of that, I don’t even want to be here.  If I had it my way I’d be living by myself.  Actually, I probably wouldn’t even have a place to call home.  I’d be so busy going from one country to the next.  I want to help the people who everyone forgets about.  I can’t do that here.  Mom just didn’t care, and that was for the best.”  Geneviere claimed indignantly.  The boys just grumbled in return. 

They knew how Geneviere truly felt, and it wasn’t what she just said.  Underneath that hard exterior was a broken girl who only wanted someone to show it to her that they cared.  That’s why the twins flew up here with her.  They love her and she needs that.  She needs to know that there is someone else’s bed she can crawl into at night when she had a bad dream.  Someone who would sing her to sleep when her thoughts wouldn’t let her. 

Geneviere walked back into the living room with the boys in tow and sat down in front of the sofa, leaning her back against it.  Casper picked up the remote as he went to sit on her left and flipped on the television as Jasper was making himself comfortable on Geneviere’s right.

“Friends is on, we could watch that.”  Suggested Jasper.

“Orrrr, we could go get the old VHS tapes of Mama’s Family.”  Geneviere countered, batting her eyelashes at Casper who was in charge of the remote this evening.  He stared at them both for a few seconds and then went to channel 259 to watch Walker Texas Ranger.  “Typical man.” Geneviere muttered, though she really did enjoy the show.

            After the hour had ended Geneviere went up stairs to her room to unload her very full backpack.  As she sat it on her desk next to her laptop she took a look around the room.  It’s been a while since I’ve been here hasn’t it?  She thought to herself.  The last time I came to see Dad was when I was 15.  That was two years ago now.  I probably would have come up last summer as usual if it weren’t for the fact that they needed me at the ranch after Richard died.  She shook herself out of that thought quickly.  It’s so hard to remain positive when you’re always remembering the negative.

            She laid a hand on the light purple walls remember how she used to get in trouble with Jackson for writing on the walls with crayons before he died.  Eventually they learned not to color where their parents would see.  The first thing she did when she arrived at the house last week was to check and see if the drawing of their family was still in her closet.  She had feared that Thomas had painted over it in preparation of her visit.  Thankfully he did no such thing.

            Her blue curtains fluttered lightly as she opened the window to let the room breathe a bit.  Her dresser was on the wall perpendicular to the window so Geneveire didn’t have to move far to remove most of jewlery.  Leaving only the many cloth bracelets on her left wrist.  Walking over to her closet she placed her two cell phones on the desk.  Luckily no one had called her business line while she was in school.  It’s odd actually having to worry about someone calling my work line during regular business hours.  I’m screwed if someone does.  Unlike Mom, Dad cares if I get in trouble, but it’s not like I can just ignore it if I’m called.  Someone needs help and I’ll be damned if I can’t do something!

            Geneviere hung up her jacket in the closet and stopped dead when she saw the drawing.  She stood there staring at the happy faces of her parents and the smiling stick figures of them all.  Mostly though, she stared at the fake Jackson and thought of his smile and how that if she smiled more she would see it again in the mirror.  It felt like an eternity until Jasper opened her door and asked for help with his Trig homework.  She walked out of the room after him with solemn thoughts, That was when we were happy, that was when we weren’t broken…

            “You’re so exasperating!  Just put this number here and that one there and boom! You’ve got it!”  Geneviere exclaimed at her brother.

            “But why do they go there?  Why do these number work here and not there?  Why can’t I work on both sides of the equation and not just one?”  Jasper insisted.

            “Look Jae, you’re over thinking it.  I know you think you have to understand the why’s behind everything, but frankly, you can get through life pretty well without knowing them all.  I don’t know the answer to your questions.  I do, however, know how to solve the problem and if you want me to keep helping through them I suggest you shut up, listen, and stop over thinking it.”  She snapped.  Geneveire realized that she was being to aggressive about it by the hurt look that went quickly across Jae’ face.  She sighed.  “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.  Well start from the beginning and work our way back down, okay?” 

            After another hour and a half of math work they were finally finished.  It had been a long day for them all.  Geneveire went back upstairs while the twin boys went into the living room to watch television.  When Geneveire walked into her room she turned on her iHome and played The Fray at a soft volume.  She layed down on her floor and staired at the ceiling.

            Everything is so different now.  I never came to visit Dad because of the memories from this place. Home.  That’s what this place is suppose to be to me now.  I don’t have home, I haven’t had one for a while.  After Jackson died Mom and Dad just abandoned Texas, avoided it in all conversations like an STD.  Mom got custody of me in the divorce, not like it was hard to do since Dad didn’t even fight for me.  He just layed down and took it.

            California had been uncomfortable for me.  Mom was always in and out, Dad would call and check up on me.  I never told him the truth though, the truth would have killed him.  He didn’t fight, but he did care.  I hope.  I never told him about how Mom had drank that whole next year away after Jackson’s death.  Or about the string of me that came through the door.  It was unstable, but then again, so am I.

            I was always alone, even when Mom was home.  She tried to take care of me, but she couldn’t handle it.  Not at first or even as the years went by.  A part of her died that day along with Jackson.  Only a part though, it wasn’t like half of her had been taken away.  Stolen from the years he should have had.  I cried every night, his death constantly on play in my mind.  I became reclusive in school making up friends that I didn’t really have.  The only one who new at the time was Greaty.

            The divorce had left things sour between my Great Grandfather and parents.  He loved my father, and even my mother, but he just hated to see them give up so easily on their marriage.  He fought with them, tried to get them to go to counseling but they wouldn’t listen.  The fighting grew worse.  I remember the night they took the first step to the divorce office.  It was dead silent, like the calm before the storm.  I heard a glass shatter and then the screaming came.  They screamed for hours on end.  I remember walking down stairs, neither of them noticing,-they always thought I’d be asleep by now, never knowing that sleep came rarely to me anymore- I picked up our landline and dialed Uncle Richard as I raced back up the stairs.

            “Shallow Creek Ranch, Richard Johnson speaking.”  My Uncle was always polite when he answered the phone, even when it was 2:39 in the morning.  Up until this point I hadn’t thought about to say to him when he did answer.  I realized that I was at a loss of words.  I’d been silent for a year about the fighting.  Everyone thought that we were adjusting well enough to the loss of my twin brother.  I couldn’t handle it.  The thought of breaking the façade.  I hung up the telephone and muffled my sobs with a pillow.

            An hour later and they were still at it.  “I’m six years old, I shouldn’t have to deal with this!”  I flung myself off the bed, grabbed my Powerpuff girls backpack and stuffed it full of the things that meant the most to me.  The picture of us at the town festival two years ago holding a cone of pumpkin icecream, Jackson’s longhorn stuffed animal, my favorite clothes, and my favorite shirt that belongPowerpuff girls backpack and stuffed it full of the things that meant the most to me.  The picture of us at the town festival two years ago holding a cone of pumpkin ice cream, Jackson’s longhorn stuffed animal, my favorite clothes, and my favorite shirt that belonged to Jackson.          

****This is not based on real life events.****

FanFiction is Weird.

     Have you ever read FanFiction?  It's really sometimes.  And inappropriate.  I don't even want to start to talk about all the weird things that go through some fans minds.  Weird.  Just weird and disturbing.  They'll take your favorite couple, break them up, and then place them with someone oh so wrong for them.  Weird.
     They'll also do some really weird stuff and write things into a sexual manner.  I don't appreciate those very much.  My favorite type of FanFiction is when they change The-Point-of-View (POV) to a different character.  I like those, especially when they're my favorite character and I feel like they got the characters presence of mind right.  LOVE.  :3

I was reading Howl's Moving Castle FF earlier and it was on my mind.

Howl's Moving Castle FOR THE WIN!!!

**I am aware of how unorganized this is and how just plain silly it sounds, but I'm tired.  It's been a long weekend.  Be glad you got something.  It's terrible, but it's something.

KONY 2012

Enough said.

A Follow-Up!

    So I finished Howl's Moving Castle last night and I must say that if you think the book will be anything like the novel you are terribly terribly terribly  mistaken. It's as if they took names from the book and made a movie using those names.  I'm not saying that it isn't an amazing movie.  Because it is. It is definitely worth watching, though there are a few plot holes both in the movie and the book.  But it is so worth it.  So so worth it.  I loved it, so so so much.  In fact, I feel like reading it again tonight.  I never want to read a book twice in a row unless it's Pride and Prejudice.  I can read that cover to cover over and over again and never be bored.  God I love Pride and Prejudice.
     But I digress, Howl's Moving Castle is a beautiful masterpiece no matter which form it you take.  The movie is beautiful and the book is as beautiful as piece of art work.

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

     This has got to be one of the most amazing animated movies of all time right up there with Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke.  What few people actually know is that unlike those other two movies this one is actually based off of a novel.  Shocked right?  That's what I felt when a friend of mine had told me.  If you go to Amazon you can get a peek inside of the book!  I did it, and I fell in love.  Did you also know that there's a sequel?  And a companion novel?  Well, there are.  They were written several years following the first one though and they aren't quiet as good, but still part of Howl's Moving Castle which is all I need to want to read it.
   

"In the land of Ingary, such things as spells, invisible cloaks, and seven-league boots were everyday things. The Witch of the Waste was another matter.
After fifty years of quiet, it was rumored that the Witch was about to terrorize the country again. So when a moving black castle, blowing dark smoke from its four thin turrets, appeared on the horizon, everyone thought it was the Witch. The castle, however, belonged to Wizard Howl, who, it was said, liked to suck the souls of young girls.
The Hatter sisters--Sophie, Lettie, and Martha--and all the other girls were warned not to venture into the streets alone. But that was only the beginning.
In this giant jigsaw puzzle of a fantasy, people and things are never quite what they seem. Destinies are intertwined, identities exchanged, lovers confused. The Witch has placed a spell on Howl. Does the clue to breaking it lie in a famous poem? And what will happen to Sophie Hatter when she enters Howl's castle?
Diana Wynne Jones's entrancing fantasy is filled with surprises at every turn, but when the final stormy duel between the Witch and the Wizard is finished, all the pieces fall magically into place."

http://www.amazon.com/Howls-Moving-Castle-Diana-Wynne/dp/006441034X

     Interested?  I hope so.

Something Fun.

     I don't really have anything for you guys today,
 so here's something fun for all the Pride and Prejudice lovers.