Everything I Wish I Had Said During Today's Question of the Day

     I hate being at the beginning of the alphabet.  And I'm doubly cursed.  Not only do many people find it clever to refer to me as Alcoholics Anonymous (left that little gem out on the nickname question of the day), but I am always first for stuff.  I'm already an oldest child and the only girl...how much more FIRST can I be?  The question of the day situation only intensifies this hatred- I am always one of the first to be put on the spot.  And then I have to listen to like twenty other stories which are way cooler than mine and remind me of about a thousand alternate, wittier, funnier, and ultimately cooler responses.  

     Today was a prime example of one of these occasions.  Favorite book.  And I brought up Harry Potter and Lolita.  Not that they're not my favorites- they're mentioned in this blog, for Christ's sake.  But of all the books I've read and enjoyed, those two do not accurately represent my taste.  Not that they're not awesome.

     If I could go back in time and edit my response (which is why I got so eager when Davin mistakenly called on me a second time), I would have gone a few different routes:

1) I am illiterate.  (Though false, this would have garnered a few laughs.  Hopefully.  Well, Lemmy would've laughed.  He laughs at everything.)

2)  Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger.  Ever since I read Catcher in the Rye, Salinger became a catcher of my eye (ha, ha).  But in all seriousness, I love everything Salinger does.  He is like a god to me.  His writing style is refreshingly unique and so precise and unquestionable and humorous and raw- his characters so gloriously real and deep and relatable, I am entranced by everything that man does.  And F&Z, though a short story, is one I can read over and over again and never tire of.

3)  Reading Lolita in Tehran.   As soon as Davin mentioned that I wanted to jump up and down and be like I READ THAT TOO AND IT WAS AWESOME.  But I practiced self-restraint in order to tell you here: I READ THAT TOO AND IT WAS AWESOME.  I had to read it for a school project and it absolutely blew my mind.  The writing was so beautiful- mellifluous, really- and the plights of the characters so grounding and incomprehensible, the book made me appreciate the beauty of reading so much, as an escape, as a bandage, as a means of social change.

4)  Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris.  Hannibal Lecter is one twisted dude that I cannot get enough of.  Hannibal is arguably one of the most intricately crafted villains of all time.  His intellect paired with his general creepiness make him fascinating to read about.  Harris' mind is twisted...he goes there.  Silence of the Lambs is dark and gory, but it makes for a quick and great read.

5) Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. HA- APRIL FOOLS!

Just Do It.

Excuses Not to Read:
I'm tired.
I'm on Facebook.
Jersey Shore is on.
My roommate is skyping and I wouldn't be able to focus.
I read an article this morning for my class- wasn't that enough?
My head hurts.
I probably won't process anything I read anyways.
I need to call my mom.
I have an exam Thursday I should start studying for.
I need to catch up on The Office episodes.
I'm online shopping for summer clothes.
I'm illiterate.
I need to work on Davin's multimedia project.
I don't remember what's going on in the book I'm in the middle of and would have to reread the last chapter.
Jersey Shore is still on.
That weird guy from work keeps texting me and I need to be fully alert to fend of his creepiness.
My friend just posted new pictures of her spring break trip to Mexico on Facebook.
I don't have a bookmark.
I should probably shower.
I should go to the gym.
I might sneeze and my eyes will close and I'll miss an entire paragraph and have to reread it.
I have to blog for Davin's class.
I have to comment on blogs for Davin's class.
I have to e-mail my Philosophy professor and ask him who the Hell Thomas Hobbes is.
I have to pray we don't have a pop quiz on Thomas Hobbes in Philosophy tomorrow.
I wish it was Friday.
I miss my friends from home and I need to send out a mass text message telling them that.
I need to verbally obsess to my roommate about that guy who's been playing mind games with me since first semester.
I need to text my new friends from LA101H and tell them I had an awesome time Friday night :)
I need to learn all the lyrics to Rebecca Black's song "Friday."


but in the end
I read
and I'm glad I did it.

Commentary for the Week: The Picoult Phenomenon

     Marriage problems, mercy killings, suicide, statutory rape, broken hearts and bulimia.  What hasn't Jodi Picoult written about?  Her books are wildly popular and have attracted a huge following among...well, everyone basically.  

     I was never a huge fan of Jodi Picoult.  I tend to shy away from mainstream authors, or at least keep my obsessions with their books on the down low (just realized that my previous blog entries aren't helping me out with this point at all- for the moment, disregard the Harry Potter and Twilight entries). When I first read one of her books, it was an earlier one called Vanishing Acts about a girl who discovers in adulthood that she was kidnapped as a child.  The plotline was gripping, the characters were unique and likable, and Picoult's ability to weave multiple complex problems and have them all tied up in a bow by the end of the novel renders her distinct from many modern authors who can barely solve their single, simple central conflict adequately.

     From there I moved onto some of her other stuff: My Sister's Keeper, arguably her most popular book, about a girl who sues her parents for medical emancipation when asked to donate a kidney to her sister who is dying from leukemia.  Original idea? Uh, yeah.  Picoult's protagonists are people who tend to screw up, lie about it, but ultimately be good people who just harbor a take-no-prisoners outlook on things and are totally unafraid to sue everyone until justice is served. The problems in their lives aren't usually ones that are encountered on a daily basis (at least, I hope not) but their responses to their problems are believable and realistic.  Take The Tenth Circle, for instance.  The protagonist, Trixie, a 14 year-old girl who was raped by her older boyfriend, lies to doctors about being a virgin and essentially fabricates certain details of the rape when speaking to officials about it.

     Picoult has a way of changing your opinion on characters at whim: one minute, the reader is rooting for the protagonist, and the next questioning their credibility on everything they've said throughout the novel.  Her endings are always surprise twists: she tends to take the character one would assume to be the least involved in a crime and make them the central perpetrator.  

     So, next time you're hitting up the local Barnes & Noble, stroll by the "Mystery" shelf and leaf through a couple Picoult books.  I'm sure you'll find something that will capture your interest.  Picoult is a certified mind-blower (and a Harvard grad school graduate, if you're interested in credibility).  

Bear WIth Me, Here

     Okay, so, for this week's post I'm going to deviate from book recommendations and make a confession.
     Hi, my name is Amanda.  And I'm a tabloid-aholic.
     Yes, it's embarrassing.  Especially for someone who started reading J.D Salinger's short stories in the sixth grade  (not to brag but I have to restore my credibility somehow).  Especially for an English major, for someone who I'd like to think can differentiate between a novel that is a complete piece of trash and one that is inspiring, moving, or provocative.
     I don't read teary Nicholas Sparks books.  I don't cave on beach vacations and buy a Nora Roberts book, self-consciously explaining to everyone its my "beach read."  My family, in fact, will never forget the summer I attempted to struggle through War and Peace on our annual family vacation in Florida.  So why, I ask, why would I, who loves Nabokov and Hemingway and even can sink my teeth into a Dickens novel and enjoy it, why would I like tabloids?
     Tabloids are sick.  They indulge in humanity's voyeuristic tendencies- they are filled only with gossip and useless information about people who are way more culturally relevant than they should be, and pictures expanded or shrunken in order to fabricate commentary on how fat or skinny a certain star has become.
     There is no gratification found in a tabloid, or there shouldn't be.  One does not finish, put it down, sigh deeply, and suddenly feel much more pensive, as they would with a good novel.  Rather, you feel almost hungry for more- more gossip, more glossy pictures, more facts and tidbits about events that have absolutely no effect on my life.  At least- I feel that hunger.  And that is why I am a self-diagnosed tabloid-aholic.
     What can I say?  People are interesting to me.  Especially people who lead lives I couldn't even fathom leading.  I am genuinely interested in what these people think, how they feel, what they're saying and wearing.  I do not live in a fantasy world- I am perfectly aware that while Kim Kardashian is trotting around in her Christian Louboutins I am attempting to patch over the hole that has appeared in the toe of my knock-off UGG boots.  I just find these people so interesting!  It's infuriating, really- tabloids are wildly overpriced and not worth it at all.  You cannot keep them as you can a book- the information slips into irrelevance the next week, or even the next day.
    I don't really have an answer as to why I am so affected by these glossy gossip rags.  All I can say is that an escape is provided similar to the way it is in a book- for about 80 or so pages, I can indulge all I want in a Hollywood lifestyle.  And I don't have to deal with the paparazzi.